It's also a big day for me. A HUGE emotional one.
Six months ago I tried to breastfeed. It was a huge catastrophic failure that plunged me even further into depression and caused me to question my worth as a woman and a mother. The months of bed rest that preceded Ethan's birth day bruised my spirit, but this on top of the crazy hormone soup my brain was swimming in just shattered me.
I kept trying. Each cycle left all three of us brimming with tears and frustration. I wanted it to work so badly for all the reasons that anyone could mention. The bond, the benefits, fulfilling the most basic job as a mother and what nature just does, right?
Looking back, I see a slew of adversity. It's easy to itemize the factors now, but each contributor was a painful realization. I had a bad lactation consultant in the hospital who came too late and missed the ties. She identified the tongue tie, but said the latch was fine. (It wasn't.) She completely missed the severe lip tie that caused the top lip to completely roll under when sucking. It prevented the ability to make a seal around the nipple so it was impossible to eat properly. Ties also can cause a baby to be fatigued and not eat as much as a result. It's far more exhausting to eat; just a lot more effort needs to be expended to get the milk out.
During the early period, I kept trying to nurse and eventually gave up. It was too painful. Ethan wouldn't tolerate it and had lost too much weight. Poor baby was starving. We gave him formula. We had to. My supply was meager, and this was the start of my low supply issue.
I tried so hard to build supply. It did increase and eventually plateaued at between 18 - 20 oz a day. I think the all time high was 24 oz. I had to supplement with formula, but breast milk comprised 60 to 75% of Ethan's intake.
I pumped on a strict schedule. I pumped around the clock. My life revolved around the pump. Exclusive pumping is no joke. Neither is breastfeeding or any combination of the two. It's a second job, and any mother will tell you that. Grant helped by doing all the middle of the night feedings. Let that sink in for a second. We would get up at the same time for the most part. Ethan's food schedule coincided with my pumping schedule. That's how it is supposed to go.
I took supplements. All of them: brewer's yeast, fenugreek, blessed thistle, fennel, goat's rue, postnatal vitamins, mother's milk tea, mother love tea. I ate lactation cookies. I ate. I tried to eat enough. I power pumped. I learned about compressions and manual expression.
I wanted to give up. It seemed hopeless. I was lucky and had lots of support from friends and my sister. Especially my sister. She would text me encouragement at all hours and build me back up on days that I felt like I just…couldn't.
We got the lip and tongue tie addressed. That was hard. There's maintenance after that for a short while to assist with the healing process. Nobody wants to hear their baby cry. Ethan had to learn how to eat properly and build up the proper muscles.
I had a lactation consultant do two in-home consultations. She was recommended to me by a La Leche League leader. She was the one who noticed the severe lip tie and provided us with options for pediatric dentists. We had success with breastfeeding finally. And I know I say it all the time, but Ethan is such an easy baby. He doesn't care whether he gets breast milk or formula, breast or bottle. He rooted and latched, even after 6 weeks of being solely on the bottle. He transferred 4.5 oz several week after his surgery. We were finally able to have a breastfeeding relationship.
He usually needed a bottle afterward, and that was fine. It was comforting for both of us. There were many early mornings or inconsolable evenings where side laying nursing calmed him immediately to sleep. I loved that cuddle time. I was happy to have this success despite never being able to provide a full meal. This was such a big deal for me.
At some point, I stopped obsessing and accepted the situation for what it was. I stopped doing daily roll-ups of pump yield. I still pumped at intervals, but wasn't OCD about exactly WHEN it needed to occur. I started sleeping a bit longer through the night and savoring a stretch of 4.5 - 5 hours straight. This is exhausting work. Pumping is a huge commitment and still was the majority of what I did. It was impractical to try to pump and breastfeed especially after going back to work. I was so tired to the point that my bones ached. I had a short temper. My brain already wasn't working right with the hormones still imbalanced. Pregnancy is no joke.
My goal was six months. I never thought I'd make it, but here it is. I started weaning two weeks ago. It was very emotional. Hormonal. I cried at home. I cried at my desk at work. I cried in the bathroom at work. I cried in the pump room while pumping. There were a lot of tears. I cried at therapy. I wanted so badly to be medicated. Why is it so hard? Does it have to be this hard? And it wasn't just weaning. It was everything about the changes to my mind and body related to prenatal and postpartum events leading to an inability to cope with things. It tested and strained relationships. I needed more help than I have ever needed in my entire life. Of course, taking on breastfeeding didn't help any of this, but it was something I felt that I needed to do.
There were so many sacrifices on top of the 500+ hours spent pumping. This doesn't include the time spent breastfeeding or attempting to. It was expensive in every way imaginable. It's still hard to talk about.
I'm pumping only twice a day. I don't miss pumping. I am sleeping more than I have in months, and this predates the birth. Pregnant women have to pee every few hours and this includes the overnight ones where you're supposed to stay in your bed asleep. I'm starting to feel more like myself.
I thought that I might get myself something to commemorate this milestone, but I don't need or want anything. You know what I DO have? A healthy chub-chub of a baby who is in the 90th percentile for height and weight.
Not too shabby.
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