Yes, you read the title right.
Most people in my life know how much I’ve struggled with breastfeeding since having Charlie. I haven’t kept it much of a secret, and fortunately I’ve been surrounded by friends, family, and care providers who have been very encouraging and supportive. Even so, it’s nice to feel like you have other people you can talk to about the hurdles and the pitfalls, so from the very beginning I have been looking for a really inclusive and non-judgmental breastfeeding community to talk to about what’s been going on. It’s like finding a friggin’ unicorn.
If you’ve been following me on Twitter, you know how adamant I am about normalizing breastfeeding. As a matter of fact, I’m sure if you only knew me online, you’d probably assume I’m one of those really gung-ho (maybe even borderline militant) exclusively breastfeeding moms who will tell you that nothing in the world exists that would excuse you from forgoing the boob for the bottle.
Far from it. In fact, Charlie rarely feeds at the breast these days. Most of the time, he’s getting a bottle. And it’s usually full of formula.
For those of you eager to strap me to a wheel and throw rotten vegetables at me, please be patient until the end of this post wherein you will be provided with the moldy produce of your choice, should you still feel this urge.
I began my breastfeeding journey immediately after Charlie’s hospital birth, where people were on hand 24-7 to assist me with getting my baby onto my breast. Charlie had trouble latching from the get-go, mainly because I have an anatomy that’s not very friendly for feeding purposes. Having people around at the hospital to help was great, but once we got home we were only able to achieve a latch maybe ten percent of the time. The rest was all uncomfortable boob-squishing and nipple-cramming and bawling (both him and me). Determined to get through things, though, I pressed on, despite the fact that the latches we did get were few and far between. When I couldn’t get a latch, I syringe-fed him from whatever I pumped. After a couple of days of this, when my pumping wasn’t getting me very far and Charlie was getting fussier and fussier, we went in to the pediatrician for his first weigh-in since the hospital.
He’d lost a few ounces, going from 7 lb. 2 oz. in the hospital to 6 lb. 12 oz. by day two. Not terribly uncommon, so our pediatrician told us to keep on truckin’ and monitor his diapers to ensure he was getting enough. I kept to our routine, encouraging him to latch as often as I could and pumping what I could get for the rest. By day five, though, I knew something was wrong.
My milk had definitely come in, but Charlie was really struggling. He’d latch and feed for half an hour on each side, but then he still seemed ravenous afterward. I’d pump in between feedings to try to increase my supply and only get a trickle of milk. And Charlie’s output had really diminished. He went a full day without pooping and uric acid crystals started to show up in his diapers. I was officially freaked out.
We went back to the pediatrician the next day. At six days, Charlie’s weight was 6 lb. 5 oz. He’d lost nearly a pound, and he was getting very dehydrated. The pediatrician referred us to an IBCLC at the local hospital, and we went in that afternoon for an appointment with her.
After weighing Charlie again at her office, the lactation consultant observed an unsuccessful latch and then talked to us about our options. Given Charlie’s sharp drop in weight and his dehydration, she felt supplementing with formula was a necessity until I could establish a better milk supply.
I cried. A lot.
I’ve had a love/hate relationship with my breasts for fifteen years. I started developing early and ended up with much larger breasts than my tiny frame could handle. As a result, I opted for a bilateral breast reduction in the spring of 2005. My surgery was botched and I ended up with a lot of complications because of it. I always knew that breastfeeding could be an issue for me, but I had been determined to try and optimistic about my prospects.
This new development was a huge blow to me. The IBCLC told me that because I’d had such drastic surgery she couldn’t guarantee how much my milk supply would increase, if at all. She gave me a list of things to try–galactogogues, power pumping, supplements, and some prescriptions to ask my midwife about–and then outlined different methods for supplementing. The SNS system she suggested didn’t work out because of Charlie’s inability to latch properly, and we ended up bottle feeding him as much breast milk as I could pump and then supplementing the rest of his diet with formula. As devastated as I was to have to supplement, I was completely relieved to see him content for the first time in days. The fussiness disappeared, his diapers returned to normal, and he became the happy baby we all hope we end up with.
That was nearly seven weeks ago. Since then, I’ve been faithfully taking a fenugreek supplement, drinking Mother’s Milk tea, eating tons of oatmeal, doing warm compresses and the massage/stroke/shake technique, and pumping regularly six to eight times a day. I’m still lucky if I can pump an ounce at each session. With Charlie taking in 4-5 oz. at each feeding now, that’s nowhere near enough to sustain him, and with donor milk costing an average of $60 per day, formula was the only other option we had. We do still breastfeed whenever I can get him to latch, but that’s pretty rare, even with a nipple shield. We just do the best we can, and since he’s happy and healthy I basically just call it a win and try not to be too disappointed in myself.
When I first started looking for an online community to talk to about my struggle, I began by searching through the responses moms had given other women in similar circumstances. I wasn’t remotely prepared for what I saw: moms telling other moms they weren’t trying hard enough, that they were making excuses or being lazy, that they were poisoning their babies with formula.
Poisoning. Christ alive, really? We’re resorting to sensationalist language like that?
I do consider myself a lactivist. I fight for moms’ breastfeeding rights and do what I can to spread the good word. I’m the first to agree that breast milk is the best possible nutrition for a baby. I was fortunate enough to grow up around breastfeeding–my mom fed me and my youngest two siblings at the breast exclusively–and I am a huge advocate for normalizing it and making it prevalent in society. But you won’t ever–ever–catch me telling another woman that she didn’t love her kid enough to really try, or that she’s putting the equivalent of d-CON down her baby’s throat. Fuck that attitude.
And it’s not just online, where these women apparently feel like it’s totally appropriate to say things they’d never tell another mom in person. I’ve also experienced this judgmental behavior in real life, as well.
Breastfeeding advocates like to stress that, whatever your fears may be, you are making enough milk. Without exception. No, really, you are. Just trust them. Anyone can breastfeed successfully. No excuses allowed.
The last time I was around a group of EBF moms, one of them mentioned that formula companies just looooove to prey on this fear, jumping on the “myth” of low supply.
“Actually,” I interjected, “I supplement because my supply is too low.”
Instant judgy-faces.
“Who told you that?”
“An IBCLC. I had breast surgery and can’t make more than a few ounces a day.”
Once I explained that part, they softened immediately. I was in that small percentage of women they’d give a pass to, since my legitimately low supply was caused by a previous operation and thus beyond my control. I’ve learned to mention the surgery right away, before the sanctimommies get a chance to react to my proclamation that I really can’t make enough milk for my baby.
During another event, I heard a mom lamenting about how Similac is evilly marketing to breastfeeding moms by introducing their new Similac for Supplementation formula. There was no difference between that formula and their original formula, she confidently stated. It was just created to lure moms away from breastfeeding and to sell more product. I’d been feeding Charlie Similac for Supplementation for weeks, and their original formula gave him horrible stomach troubles. Turns out the supplementation formula is specifically designed to be gentle on the tummies of babies who are used to getting exclusively breast milk. I decided not to correct her, feeling like I should probably avoid an argument with a mom I’d just met and whose other opinions I mostly respected so far. You gotta pick your battles.
I’m really not sure why breastfeeding and supplementation has to be so damn divisive. Yes, breast milk is the best thing you can give your baby, and yes, most moms make plenty of it. But for some moms, the journey isn’t so easy, and until you know what she’s been through and what her family’s situation is like, you really have no right to say diddly squat. And aside from that, if we attack these moms who are struggling through, don’t you think we might be doing more harm than good? Who wants to come to a breastfeeding community for advice when they’re afraid they’re going to get harangued by a mob of militant moms every time they open their mouths?
Bottom line: we need to encourage exclusive breastfeeding without making other moms feel like failures when they struggle with it, or–as in my case–plain ol’ can’t do it. We’re not doing the movement any favors by getting shitty about it.
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(If you do want a breastfeeding pub where you’ll feel supported instead of judged, I can’t recommend The Leaky Boob enough. I’ve found so many helpful articles there, all without being made to feel like I’m the World’s Crappiest Mom.)