Breastfeeding

Everyone seems to be unanimous these days that breastfeeding is one of the best things you can do for your baby. The message is everywhere - parenting books, websites, classes, hospitals, even on containers of baby formula. That's why I felt like such a failure, at least at first.

I was totally on board with breastfeeding Ben. I read the books, went to a class. I bought a breast pump before he was born. I started nursing him in the hospital, and got used to nurses and doctors barging in on me topless. A lactation consultant came to visit me at the hospital and gave me really helpful latching tips and techniques that made it less painful and more effective. Everything seemed to be going great.

Then we took Ben to his first doctor's appointment, 3 days after his birth. He had lost a lot of weight - almost 10% of his birth weight. I still hadn't experienced the engorgement and discomfort I had read about when milk "comes in" after the baby is born. The doctor suggested I see a lactation consultant. So I found one, made an appointment, and went in with Ben. She gave me a few more tips, but said that things looked good. She weighed him before and after a feeding, and said he was getting a good amount of milk. I was told to feed him every two hours around the clock to make sure my milk supply was increasing and that he was eating enough. So we did that for a week. It worked! His next weigh in was great, gaining weight just fine.

But something was bothering me. Ben never stopped his feedings on his own. I would nurse him for 20 minutes on each side, and he wouldn't un-latch. My breasts would feel emptier, and he was definitely getting milk, but he never pushed away full. At first, I thought it was just newborn sleepiness. He would doze off, I would try to keep him awake, and eventually just give up and let him sleep. I emailed the LC about it, and she didn't seem concerned. I asked the ladies and the leader of my mom's group about it, and they didn't have any answers. So I just kept doing was I was doing.

I was breastfeeding obsessed. Feeding him 8 or 10 times a day, for 45 minutes each time, I had HOURS of time sitting and looking at the internet. I read every breastfeeding site out there

At about the 6 week mark, I started getting worried. I was between 1 and 2-month doctors visits, so I weighed Ben at the Sequoia Wellness Center. He was still gaining a few ounces a week. I called the LC one more time, and asked if there was anything I could be doing wrong. This time, she was concerned. Based on his birthweight, he wasn't gaining nearly as fast as he should. She said he wasn't un-latching, because he was still hungry. She asked how we had been dealing with him being upset over the hunger. The thing was, he wasn't upset! He would suck and suck and suck until I took him off, and then he would usually just take a nap. But my poor baby had been hungry pretty much his whole life? I was horrified. The LC actually asked ME what I wanted to do about the situation, and I mentioned formula. I was expecting her to balk, as most lactation experts seem to be vehemently anti-formula. But she said that topping him off with a little formula after each feeding would be fine.

Buying that first canister of formula was a huge step. Everything says that "exclusive" breastfeeding is best. Clearly I had failed in some way.  Maybe I should have fed him more frequently to increase supply. Maybe I shouldn't have given him a pacifier. Whatever the reason, I was not making enough milk for my baby, and that made me a bad mother. I felt so incredibly guilty.

I was nervous. Ben had had a few bottles of breast milk by this point, but only a few. And in my obsessive internet research, I had read stories of babies that reject various types of formula, or have allergies. Neil went to the store immediately and bought a few small bottles of pre-mixed formula. We gave one to Ben, and... he was happy as a clam. Sucked it down, no problem. We even switched to a different brand, due to our pediatrician's recommendation. No sweat, just as yummy.

Since I didn't really know how much he was getting from me, I started pumping rather than nursing. Then we could totally measure his intake, and know how much he was eating and from which source. The difference in Ben's attitude was remarkable. He was happier, more relaxed. He slept so much better. His appetite, when presented with an unlimited supply, was amazing for such a little baby. I breathed a huge sigh of relief.

I obsessed a little more over the next few weeks, meticulously counting and calculating how much of his intake was breastmilk (about 75%). Since I was still contributing a good majority of his nutrition, I felt better. I actually really liked pumping. For a very analytical person like me, being able to measure gave me great piece of mind. And it freed me from being Ben's slave. I would pump whenever it was convenient for ME. Then one of us (not just me!) could feed Ben whenever it was convenient for him. So long as Neil was around to keep an eye on Ben while I pumped 5-6 times a day, it was a win-win situation.

For a long time, I pumped during the day, but still nursed Ben at night. Then, for a stretch while he was 2-3 months old, he started sleeping through the night. Hallelujah! But unfortunately, that meant I suddenly dropped one feeding. For a while, I would wake up in the middle of the night and pump, to try to keep up my supply. But after a week or two of that, I rationalized that a mother who wasn't pumping wouldn't get up in the middle of the night if the baby was sleeping. She would sleep til he woke up. So I figured it would be ok for me to do that as well.

By the 3-month mark, it was time for me to go back to work. So my pump came with me. And by this point, Ben really didn't want to nurse anymore. I would occasionally try in the mornings and evenings. Sometimes, if he was really relaxed and sleepy, he would nurse for a while until he fell asleep. But more often, he would tug, squirm, claw, and kick at me. Nursing was hard. Bottles were easier. So I officially became an "exclusive pumper."

So after 20 weeks of pumping (and over 500 pumping sessions), here we are. I have been counting down to this magic 6-month mark, which was my goal. I have to say, it's getting old. I spend 2.5 hours every day packing the bag, pumping, cleaning parts, storing milk. It's the first thing I do in the morning, and the last thing I do before bed. By now, I have the process streamlined for maximum efficiency - I defy anyone to come up with a way to make this faster or easier. But I'm ready to be done. I'm ready to wear normal bras. Ready to stop hauling this pump everywhere I go. Ready to not have two pumping interruptions in my workday. Ready to be back in control of my own body.

Yesterday was Ben's 6 month birthday, and the first day that I have gone more than 24 hours without pumping. It was... anticlimactic, to be honest. I am so ready to be done with the hassle, but at the same time, slowly weaning over the last few weeks has been heartbreaking. To have spent months obsessing over breastfeeding and milk supply, I felt horrible to stop pumping before being totally empty. Getting the milk come used to be a sign of success, and a great relief. But now, I turn off the pump mid-way through. All that precious milk! I felt wasteful and... guilty, I guess is the right word. Like this is something I'm supposed to be doing to provide for my baby, and I'm choosing not to.

But Ben is a healthy, happy boy. He eats like a champ, breastmilk or formula. And it's time for me to close this chapter of my life and move on. I hope that what I've done for him so far will pay off in the long run.