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| Photo taken by Elle Photography, http://www.danielleastrab.com, 2014. |
If you find yourself in any of the mommy circles I am a part of- and perhaps even if you don’t- you know that this past week has been World Breastfeeding Week, a week dedicated to supporting and advocating for breastfeeding women’s rights around the globe. In honor of WBW, and National Breastfeeding Month which runs the entire month of August, here is our breast(milk)feeding story.
I can’t remember when I decided that I was going to be a breastfeeding mama, but it was long before I met RevEv and became pregnant with the Pixie and the Bug. I loved images of women nursing their infants- you all know the images I’m talking about, where mother and child are looking adoringly into one another’s eyes, perhaps holding hands. I knew the slogan “Breast is Best” and was familiar with all of the benefits of breastfeeding for both child and mother. I was in awe of the female body’s ability to continue to support and nourish the life of a child after it had been nurtured in the waters of a womb and then birthed into the outside world.
Even after I found out that I was expecting twins I was steadfast in my decision to breastfeed. I trusted that my body would be able to produce enough milk to fill not one, but two bellies. I figured I would simply (ha!) need to do some power-pumping sessions in order to help boost my supply in the beginning and everything would flow smoothly. I scoffed at the bottles my husband looked at adding to our baby registry- we weren’t going to need those! and added two Boppy’s to the list.
I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Pixie and Bug were born in a hospital that prides itself on being “Baby Friendly” (ie: they promote breastfeeding) but our experience there was anything but. I had told my doctor numerous times about my plans to exclusively breastfeed (EBF), and upon being admitted to pre-op for our C-section made sure the nurses knew and paperwork indicated that I was planning to EBF, and that the girls were to have no formula, no sugar water, and no artificial nipples. I wanted to do skin-to-skin as soon as possible, and requested to see a lactation consultant right away. I had done my homework, I knew we had several strikes against us, but I was determined to make this work.
Pixie was taken to the NICU because of her low birth weight, and Bug was sent to the newborn nursery, something our hospital birthing instructor said no longer happened because the hospital was “Baby Friendly”. While I was in recovery RevEv stopped by to fill me in on the girls (God bless him, he got quite a workout that day!), where he said, ever so gently, “Just so you know, they gave them both bottles.” What!? I wanted to scream, but I held my tongue. It was alright, it was just one bottle, we could get back on track. They brought Bug to me just as I was being wheeled out of recovery and into our temporary room. I was given a breastpump, quickly shown where the buttons for speed and suction were located, and then left to figure out how to feed my sleepy baby. I finally got to see Pixie up in the NICU almost twelve hours after she had been born; she was so tiny, I was afraid to even attempt to latch her onto my breast. When the hospital lactation consultant stopped by to see me the next day she said that Bug had a tongue tie, that I had flat nipples, and that late pre-term infants were just sleepy nursers and there was nothing I could do about it. The nurses pressured me to give Bug formula rather than feed on demand. I tried to send the little bit of colostrum I had been able to express up to the NICU for Pixie and the nurse told me “no”. We were sent home with bottles and bottles of formula, a rental pump, and my milk hadn’t come in yet.
I tried so hard to make nursing work. I was trying to nurse, and pump, and give bottles round the clock. I kept thinking that if only I tried harder, this would work. I felt like my body had failed me and my babies by not producing enough milk, and there were many days when all three of us cried and cried and cried. Finally I called Mahala, the lactation center a few towns over. It was our saving grace.
A lactation consultant and LC-in-training came to our house that evening to help us. Both girls had latching issues, and I had a low milk supply. She asked me what my goals were, and we came up with a plan to try and get the girls breastfeeding like I wanted them to. I would nurse on demand, then finish with formula or expressed breastmilk, and then pump. Which was pretty much what I had already been doing, but it was affirming to be told that I had been doing the right thing. We tried a SNS (supplemental nursing system) but I could tell right away that that wasn’t going to work for us, and the LC fully supported my decision to not use it. We had several follow up visits both at home and in their office, and I began attending the monthly support group that was offered. A different LC noticed that Bug had some tension in her shoulders and suggested we see a chiropractor. The adjustments helped her to relax her jaw, open her mouth wider, and improved her latch immensely. Bug was 6 months old- 6 months!- by the time she was finally able to latch and have it not hurt me. Through nursing, pumping, and a cocktail of herbal galactogogues and medication I was able to increase my supply, although I never came anywhere close to providing enough milk to EBF either daughter.
We finally found a rhythm and relationship that worked for us. I got to the point where I pumped five times a day, giving the girls formula and expressed breastmilk in bottles, and then comfort nursed the girls on demand throughout the day and night. Even though I was not EBFing as I had wanted, I was thankful that we had stuck with it, that I was able to comfort them in a way that no one else could. I have wonderful memories of tandem nursing the girls, memories made all the more precious because of how hard I had to fight in order to make them.
At nine months Bug nipped me with her brand new teeth. I scolded her, and she never nursed again. I went through a modified cycle of grief. First I cried for days at what we had lost. Then, I was angry- at her. How could she just decide to stop after all we had been through!? We had finally made it, and she was just going to quit!?!?! I tried bargaining, I tried tricking her... three LC’s in the room using every trick and the book and none of us could get her to latch. All we succeeded in doing was upsetting her to the point of hysteria. Which is when I had to take a step back. The breastfeeding dyad between mother and child is a relationship, and I firmly believe in the importance of consent in any type of relationship. My daughter was clearly telling me NO, and I was not respecting her wishes. Being able to respect her NO helped me to find some peace in her sudden weaning. I was still nursing Pixie, who loved ‘milkies’, and I was still pumping, so both girls were still receiving the benefits of my milk. I became okay with Bug not nursing and we moved on.
Now the girls are almost 15 months old, and it is time for another change. It is time for me to give back the rental pump that has helped me to feed my girls. A lot of women hate pumping. I did too, in the beginning. But then there was a shift, and I came to value my pumping time. I was proud of the milk that I produced, and as I have weaned down my pumping sessions to just *gulp* one a day my heart has been a little sad to see the milk in the fridge dwindle. Pixie is still going strong, in fact, she’s teething right now so her favorite place to be is in my arms, drinking ‘milkies’. I’m hoping she and I can make it to two years, but if we don’t, I trust that I’ll find comfort in the memories of our time spent together in this way.
