The Journey of Feeding my Son
This is a post about my breasts. A very long post about my breasts. If the idea of this makes you uncomfortable, you should probably skip this one. But it’s an important story for me and it’s one I need to write out.
When Elijah was born, he was immediately placed on my chest, this tiny creature that I had created. That I somehow already knew, inside and out. It was, without question, the greatest moment of my life.
After our families got a few minutes (literally like 2) to take a peek at the baby, we had 2 hours of uninterrupted skin-to-skin time. That is something our hospital is proud of since it has been shown to improve breastfeeding rates and all kinds of other physiological benefits that are kind of voodoo science to me. But I had my baby and I was more than happy to snuggle.
After a few minutes, the nurse helped me move the baby to my breast to initiate breastfeeding and once there he did nothing. He did not open his mouth. He did not root. He showed no interest in eating. We tickled his cheeks, we (read: the nurse) squeezed the living hell out of my boob to entice him with colostrum…and nothing. And so we just took a breath and let him rest. He and I had both had a rather eventful hour and we were told to relax, it would happen. And so against my nature, I relaxed. I trusted that my son could lead the way. I was told over and over, he is a baby, this is what he is programmed to do.
We tried again a few times throughout those first two hours, always with the same result. At the end of the 2 hours the nurse took Eli and weighed him, measured him, threw on a pair of gloves and popped a finger in his mouth to see if she could elicit a suck reflex. And once again, nothing. It was as though he just had no idea how to eat even though babies were supposed to be born with the reflexes and drive to do that. Again, I was told to relax, that we had 24 hours to work it out, and so I did.
Throughout the night, the baby would wake up and cry, I would put him to my breast and occasionally he’d open his mouth, but nothing ever came of it. No latching, no sucking. Nothing.
We finally saw a lactation consultant at around 22 hours of life. 22 hours where my child had not eaten anything at all. I was no longer relaxed. I was stressed. And tired. And worried. The lactation consultant was worried. She threw around labels, trying to find a cause. She thought maybe he had a tight jaw. Or torticollis. Or it was the epidural. The more she talked the more I felt like I had done something wrong. I had gotten that stupid epidural. I had relaxed like the nurses had told me and now my child couldn’t breastfeed. Now his first meal on this earth would be formula.
I put on a happy face while inside I crumbled. I didn’t have very many strong parenting ideas, but breastfeeding was one of them. I wanted to breastfeed. I wanted to bond with my child. I wanted to provide him that perfect nutrition. I wanted to be the person he had to go to whenever he was upset or distressed or otherwise just needed comfort. I was his home for 9 months, I wanted to be his sustenance for at least 12 more.
I tried to keep my worries quiet, but we went home that evening with a rented pump and directions on how to pump, tube/finger feed and an appointment with the LC in 2 days.
At that appointment, to our great excitement, Eli latched on and ate off both sides. He still had to have supplemented formula because my supply was already completely inadequate, but he breastfed. The next day he latched on 2 more times. We were elated. And then he never did it again.
He would nurse with a nipple shield, but it was agony. My nipple would get pulled through the little holes at the end and trapped there. He would slip off and just nurse off the very tip. And he would fall asleep every time. The feedings became a 90 minute affair. 45 minutes of nursing, 15 minutes of screaming despite 45 minutes of eating and scales showing he had ingested >2 ounces, and finally giving a bottle to top him off and 30 minutes of pumping/cleaning up. And then 90 minutes later, it all started over again. We did this for 5 weeks. We both cried at least 8 times a day. I loved that baby so fiercely, but I came to resent him because feeding him made me feel like a failure. I couldn’t do the most natural thing in the world- the thing that women were literally designed to do. I could not sustain my child with breastfeeding.
We took a week off at 5 weeks because we both needed it. I pumped, he ate out of the bottle and we cried less. We tried again at 6 weeks and at the recommendation of a lactation consultant I tried to do a “nursing vacation” where you basically just lay around with the baby and let him eat all the time. He would only nurse with the shield and after 2 hours he became hysterical, despite free reign of my breasts.
That night I made a decision. We were done. After 6 weeks of my child rejecting my breasts, 6 weeks of tears at every feeding, 6 weeks of struggle and sadness, we quit. And for a time, I felt relieved. I hated pumping, but since breastfeeding was clearly not going to happen, this was my redemption. I could still get him breast milk.
My son is nearly 5 months old. I no longer dread the pump, but I am every bit as sad about what happened as I was the day we gave up, perhaps even more so. I hear my friends with babies talk about breastfeeding and how the love to do it and all the wonderful things I had dreamed of and I feel completely inadequate. I resent them for their success, which isn’t fair. But it’s true. My sister is preparing to have a baby and while I wish her all the luck in the world and hope that her daughter takes to breastfeeding without difficulty, I know that it will be nearly impossible for me to see. That it will remind me of what we couldn’t, what we can’t do.
All the lactation consultants we saw (4? 5? in total), told me to keep going. That babies just “get it” between 4-8 weeks and if they don’t you can get them to breastfeed as late as 6 months or beyond. We tried again last week because I can’t seem to let it go and it was the worst disaster to date. Even with the shield, my child screamed and screamed, choked, and screamed some more.
It’s funny because I have always defended mothers who bottle feed for any reason because I believe that it is a mother’s choice and that feeding a baby is all that matters/ed. I do not and have not judged mothers for not trying or not sticking with breastfeeding, but when I’m out in public, bottle feeding my son, I want to yell to everyone watching that it’s breast milk. That I’m still giving him breast milk, as though anyone cares or as though if I was giving him formula (which I sometimes do) it would be a big deal (it isn’t). My inner hypocrisy is somewhat appalling.
I judge myself. I blame myself for not pushing harder. For not doing the “breast crawl” at birth and instead, letting family in those first few minutes. For switching to bottles when I knew that it could risk the minimal success we had with breastfeeding. For giving up too soon. For not just toughing out all the 90 minute feedings and nipple shield nonsense. I could’ve kept going. I chose not to and while in my heart of hearts I know it was the right call, somewhere in my gut, I have deep layers of guilt.
I still pump and it’s not a road I recommend to anyone, but at this point, it’s as much a part of my life as the baby is. It’s gotten much easier to manage, I can pump around his nap schedule and though I do supplement with formula (4ish oz a day), I have been able to grow my supply to be far closer to adequate. And while I can tell you that I’m doing it so my son gets breast milk, the truth is that I’m doing it because I need to feel successful at something. I couldn’t control the breastfeeding situation, but I can control this. And as a bonus, my son gets breast milk.
I guess what I have learned, now that I’m finally putting the words down, is that feeding my child was and is the most important thing. I wanted to breastfeed him, I still do, but when the choice is between us maybe someday getting the hang of it and being miserable in the meantime, or enjoying my son and giving up this dream, there simply isn’t a choice at all. He is healthy, he is happy and that is all that matters.
I will probably always wish things worked out differently, I will definitely always wish that our first weeks weren’t filled with so much strife. But I will be proud that I was able to prioritize my son over my goals and climb out of that experience to make us both happier.
18 Responses to “The Journey of Feeding my Son”
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I'm Katie, a 29 year old, wife, mom, former teacher-turned healthcare professional, who just happened to have brain surgery in November of 2007. This blog chronicles my daily life, from mundane to crazy. Sit down, get comfortable and stay for a while.
Please! Do not feel guilty AT ALL!!!! When my sister had her son, she tried like crazy to breast feed and she never got breast milk at all, therefore she had to feed him formula from the get go! I think you’re doing a GREAT job with Eli! You shouldn’t worry about people judging you when you’re out in public!
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I’m sorry this has been so hard for you and Eli. I admire your determination though and I think you are becoming a wonderful mother.
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I wish I could say something that would relieve the stress/guilt/etc around this situation for you. I think you made a wise choice and I don’t think you should beat yourself up over wishing you had done things differently. My guess is things still would have turned out similarly. The biggest thing I’ve learned by having a 2nd child is that babies really are all very different. We had so many issues with our 1st & I was constantly in tears over how things were going & “what if” I had done something differently. I was a mess. Now, 6 years later, I finally realize that it wasn’t about me & what I was doing or not doing, it was issues my son had that not all babies had. I had to stop breastfeeding too (though I had to go to special formula) & I had to give myself the freedom to not allow guilt to wreck things even more. I still wish things had gone differently on so many levels, but my son is healthy & so smart & I wouldn’t change anything about him now.
Anyway, sorry to write a novel & I think I didn’t even say everything I set out to. But the only important thing is: you are strong & doing an awesome job & that’s all that matters!
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You so should be proud of yourself. Please let go of the guilt. I’m so impressed that you could increase your supply by pumping. I was never a successful pumper, which meant (because I worked full time) that I quit breastfeeding at 8 months rather than go for a full year or longer. I had some guilt, but my son is now 17 and healthy and smart and great. Those breastfeeding struggles were so hard and so important to me, but my ultimate goal was a healthy, happy kid. And I was successful at that–as your are. Way more important to enjoy the time you have with your son.
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I think the fact that you’ve even attempted to pump as long as you have, makes you a complete breastfeeding success.
I don’t know if it’ll help the guilt, but 2 quotes from my favorite pediatrician, both of which made me feel WAY better about formula-feeding:
1. “They found baby bottles in the ruins of ancient Egypt. Women have been supplementing for a LONG time. We don’t worry about it.”
2. “Go to any preschool classroom, you won’t know which kids were breastfed and which were formula fed. It all evens out in the end.”
I look back at how I struggled with breastfeeding Catie, and now I think about it and I’m angry at myself for being so distraught and emotional about it. All that wasted energy. Because in the long run? You have Eli. How or what he eats doesn’t really matter.
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Don’t believe everyone who is breastfeeding loves it, thinks it’s amazing, all that jazz (even if that’s what they tell you). I was not a fan of breastfeeding even though I did it. We used the horrid shield until about 4 months and then continued nursing until 13 months, but I was not a fan until about 8 months in and then I sort of thought it was all right. The baby got fed, we stayed something approaching financially solvent, and I was largely miserable. Hugs and good job feeding the little guy in a way that works for you both. I know the guilt is hard to handle, but you can let it go! Really! Babies are people with opinions and preferences all their own, and sometimes they get their own way.
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When I think of the difficult newbornhood period, it isn’t the lack of sleep that pops out at me (which is surprising since I’m a gal who covets her sleep) but it is the various stumbles with breastfeeding, the hurtful (and sometimes inaccurate) comments of lactation consultants, and the public perception of the times I bottle-fed. (Like you say – I wanted to scream IT IS BREAST MILK IN THE BOTTLE!)
There is such an expectation of what is considered “right” that it hurts us deeply if it doesn’t smoothly occur. Worse – the LCs who are supposed to help frequently play the blame-game, so in fact increase stress level, thus decreasing the chance of success.
For my second child, I stood up to the LC who came into my hospital room unsolicited. I didn’t let her comments about my “inadequate milk” faze me. But I still have the emotional scars from my first child.
You are doing fabulously for Eli. He is being fed. He is being snuggled. He is being loved.
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You’re doing what is right for you, your baby, and your body, and THAT is what’s important! I’m exclusively breastfeeding, plus pumping 3x per day since I just went back to work. I have to be honest – BFing has been pretty easy for us once his suck/rooting reflex kicked in (he was born at 35w), but I don’t love it. I do it because it’s what is best for my child, but it’s not some amazing bonding experience. I don’t hate it either, but you shouldn’t feel badly at all. Even those of us that breastfeed don’t always find it to be all amazing and lovely like it is portrayed to be.
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I had a terrible time breastfeeding. I remember, in those early, hyper-hormonal days after giving birth, crying hysterically in my bedroom after passing a blood-clot through my tattered nipple. My husband tried to calm me by telling me we had formula in the kitchen and we could feed the baby that way, but rather than helping, the idea of it made things worse.
We eventually got a little better and I was able to nurse my first to 6 months, my second to about 7.
And still, nearly a decade later, I feel guilty that it wasn’t long enough, even though at the time it was such a relief to be finished.
And then there is the other guilt, that maybe if I’d let go of the breast-feeding sooner, they would have eaten more and thrived better from a bottle.
There is so much self-doubt in mothering. I hope you are able to overcome yours. You are doing the very best for your child.
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It sounds like you a need a hug! You didn’t do anything wrong, so you should stop beating yourself up about all of the “what-ifs” and regrets about things in those first few weeks. The important thing is that Eli is healthy and that you’re doing your best as a mom to feed him. It’s sad that you didn’t get your dream of breastfeeding fulfilled this time around, but don’t compare yourself to other moms or you’re going to feel miserable. You’re an awesome mother and the fact that this has stressed you out so much shows that you only want to do the best…and THAT’S what makes a good mother, not breastfeeding!
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Katie, my breastfeeding story reads remarkably similarly to yours. My daughter is 4 now, so I can tell you, just from the perspective of time, that there will, indeed, be a time in your life where you can reconcile the guilt with the reality that the choices you made to keep yourself sane and your baby happy were more important than what was in his bottle. 4 years later, I never even give it a second thought unless I read something like this, and then I think “damn, that specific thing in that specific period sucked so bad, but I’m glad it worked out how it did and I wish I wouldn’t have been so hard on myself.”
I know that telling you not to feel bad about it doesn’t help because you’re grieving the loss of a dream and that is so hard. But take heart in the fact that this is such a short period of his life, and you did the very best you could, and your decision ultimately resulted in a better quality of life for both of you.
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With my first two, we had serious struggles with nursing that it stopped all together before they reached 6 weeks of age and by then, I couldn’t pump easier. Years later, when #3 came along I found great success with nursing and am going strong with #4. I hope you do get to experience it in the future should you have another child, but do not beat yourself up for it, just know that you are providing that little man with all of the love that he needs!
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It is hard! I’m still nursing my twins at 9 months, and it’s much, much easier, now, but the early weeks were filled with doubt, loathing, the evil formula waiting in the pantry, the hated nipple shield, washing pump parts, etc, not to mention self-consciousness about nursing in public or in front of my in-laws (or my father). To this day, when some in-law asks about where their evening bottles are, or says formula when referring to what they drink, I want to wring their necks. I haven’t worked this hard at breastfeeding for this long for them to still be adjusting to it. When I gave bottles in public, or else be strapped to a couch for an hour feeding each child, I, too, wanted to scream, “It’s breastmilk!!!” I hate my pump,too, but it lets me work and feed my babies. I’d rather be snuggled up at home with them, nursing, but that longing didn’t kick in until I went back to work.
And as easy as breastfeeding is NOW, I’m counting down the weeks until I can ditch the pump, and start weaning so they’re not constantly reliant on me to provide sustenance. 10 weeks till they’re 1. 10 weeks to go.
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Katie, this is beautifully written and so similar to my breastfeeding experience with my first son. The guilt and regret was horrible, but not as horrible as the struggle we went through the first six weeks before I “gave up” and went to exclusively pumping. He’s now six, and looking back what I regret most is letting the struggle and the guilt make his early months less happy than they could have been. The guilt kicked in again when I quit pumping at 9 months due to my supply dropping off. With my second son I was able to let things go a lot more and his newborn days were so much more relaxed. I know it sounds trite but it’s true what everyone says that when the get to kindergarten (or even preschool) no one will even think about how they were fed as babies. My sons are 6 and 3 now and their feeding as infants is totally irrelevant to their lives, but posts like these still stir up feelings of guilt that I didn’t try harder. We all need to learn to let go and realize we’re doing the best we can for our children and that is enough.
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You are pretty fierce to have put up with all that crying from Eli in the first place. My son is just a few weeks younger and though we can mostly breastfeed, he goes through phases where he’ll refuse the breast and it tears me up. I can’t handle him getting red faced and miserable for long and rush to a pumped bottle. I think it’s only reasonable that you are still yearning for that breastfeeding connection and wanting Eli to nurse from you. But from the earlier comments it should be clear that you are not alone and that you are awesomely courageous. Thanks for your honesty in sharing your journey!
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Hi fellow Katie-
I have to post in response to this. I think what you are doing is amazing…I tired breastfeeding for 3 weeks, sobbed every time and basically spent 23 hours of the day feeding since the baby was the slowest eater ever! Tried to pump, dried up my milk supply in one day. My 9 month old baby has been on formula since 4 weeks old and I too struggle with the guilt. I don’t think there is anything anyone can say to make that go away, only that somewhere deep down inside of me I know that it was the best decision to make me and my baby happy.
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Oh, my goodness, I feel for you, I really do. Motherhood is just rife with guilt, isn’t it. I feel guilty when I let my kid have McDonalds fried and a milkshake for lunch (which happened three time in her life so far, but still, guilt.) Anyway, if it’s any consolation, I really believe that the way a child feeds is really all about the child himself and nothing to do with what was done in the first hours / days / weeks of life.
My kid happens to be a champion breastfeeder (she’s 27 months and showing no signs of stopping, which is another problem entirely). This, despite the fact that I didn’t get to hold her after she was born; that she spent the first five days of life in a NICU and I was only allowed to visit for 2 hours a day; that she was bottle fed for the first five days; that she was given a paci early on (though subsequently rejected it in favour of BOOOOOOOOBS).
In short, we did everything wrong to initiate breastfeeding and it still worked. But not because of me, or anything I did, but because that’s how she was wired.
On the other hand, despite my best efforts, my child did not utter any consonant sounds till she was almost one. She didn’t start talking till nearly two, and she didn’t ever crawl. She was’t wired to do that, and nothing I could have done would have changed that about her.
Your boy is wired not to breastfeed, which is not to say he’s imperfect, of course he’s perfectly perfect and wonderful and sweet and smart and amazing. He just wasn’t made to drink milk the way you imagined he would. There’s nothing to feel guilty about. In the long run, these things that seem so vital and critical in infancy take on less significance as your child grows. I truly believe that removing as much guilt as possible, creating a easy, smooth relationship that is free from resentment is so much more important. If that means continuing to pump, do that. If it means transitioning to formula, do that. Do what works for you guys. Do what seems easy and smooth and stress free.
Good luck to you, and know that you’re doing what’s best for your boy, and the special way that he happened to be made.
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Awww. Thank you for sharing. May your path have joy.
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