There is a lot of shame thrown around when it comes to choosing how to feed your baby. If you do not breastfeed your baby, then you are considered almost less than a mother. The pressure placed on mother's by family members, society, and other mother's could break a new mom's shoulders. We already have so many struggles in the first weeks of motherhood; postpartum care, postpartum depression, sleep deprivation, mom guilt that we are not good enough for our children, and to add to this seemingly overwhelming list there is breastfeeding. I nearly crumpled around these crushing responsibilities and expectations as I am sure many other mother's do. Today I am going to discuss my mom guilt revolving around the pressures and struggles of breastfeeding. At the end of this post, I hope you will understand that you are not alone in your guilt, but that the most important thing is that your baby is fed, whether that be through pumping, formula, or breastfeeding.
The Beginning
Breastfeeding was one of many parts of motherhood I dreamed about. I had been so excited to nourish and feed my child from my body. I was excited for the bonding experience that so many women had spoken about. When I thought about breastfeeding, I pictured a calm, quiet room, with the lights off and myself smiling down at my daughter as she ate easily from my breast. Although many women paint this beautiful picture of breastfeeding, it is anything but, especially in the beginning.
When the nurse placed my daughter on my chest for the first time and asked me to bring her to my nipple, I thought she would just latch on. I knew from the courses and the books that there was more to it than that. I knew about making sure the baby latched on properly was not an easy feat but I did not think it would be that hard. The fact of it was that neither my daughter nor I knew what we were doing. Although we had spent nine months sharing a body, we did not know yet how to work together as a team. The method of trying to place my daughter on my nipple with her mouth wide open was so foreign to me I nearly cried. I cannot count the amount of times I had to break my baby's latch because of the pain from wrong positioning.
Even after my session with the lactation consultant on the second day, my daughter and I struggled. She cried most of that day. I had thought it was because she was hungry, and I could not get her to latch properly. I blamed myself for already failing her on only the second day of her existence outside my womb. She was at my breast for two hours before a nurse came in and told me that there was no way she was feeding for that long (wish someone told me that two hours earlier). I had no milk yet, only colostrum which only required my daughter to eat 20 minutes from each breast. My daughter had been using me as a pacifier and I was left with raw, cracked, and extremely painful nipples.
I remember telling my night nurse that I was still having a hard time getting my daughter to latch and she said to me, "Well you are taking her home tomorrow whether you are ready or not." Thank you for that. It was most helpful.
My daughter and I did not fall into sync with one another until the second day home. We had finally gotten into a routine and I had figured out how to get her to latch. But there were many struggles that would soon follow after our latching problem had been solved.
Fast Flow and Faster Tears
Once my daughter and I solved the latching problem, a new issue emerged. My milk flow was so fast that my daughter would choke on it. I had tried everything to slow the flow down: feeding in a reclined position, relieving the pressure or milk in the shower before feedings, pumping beforehand, breast shields (the damn things would never stay on!), it was incredibly frustrating. I never knew milk flow was even a thing! My daughter could simply not keep up, she would spit up frequently, scream when I tried to feed her, and I wanted to join her.
We did not introduce my daughter to a bottle until she was two months old, as is recommended by lactation consultants. The relief was immense. My wife was able to share in the responsibilities of feeding my daughter at night so we were able to begin taking shifts, but it was no surprise that my daughter quickly began to prefer the bottle. It was easier, she did not have to wait for my milk to let down, and she was no longer trying to keep up with my fast flow. She began to flat out refuse to feed from my breast and again I felt as though I had failed her.
I fought hard to continue breastfeeding her to the point where we began to become frustrated with one another. I remember the deep rooted pain of being rejected. My daughter was rejecting me; I felt like I was losing our connection. I tried to keep going, but in the end I knew I needed to let it go. My already fragile mental health was on the brink of collapse; I could not endure the guilt I was forcing upon myself.
At two months old, I gave up on breastfeeding my daughter and began my journey of exclusively pumping.
The Pumping Tales
Ah, pumping. What a long journey that was. I pumped exclusively until my daughter was six months old. From being hooked up to a machine and not being able to move (until I bought a portable pump), to still waking up in the middle of the night to pump even though my daughter was still sleeping, to trying to find places in public to pump in private or risk clogged milk ducts, to worrying about not producing enough milk to feed my daughter . Of course many of these are breastfeeding problems as well. Still I trudged on, dead set on feeding my daughter breastmilk because I had already gave up on breastfeeding and there was still a lot of guilt that came with that decision. I refused to give up until that is my body was forced to stop.
When it all Came to an End
If you have been reading my posts since the beginning, you may remember all the illnesses I was plagued with in my daughter's first year. In one month I got COVID, bronchitis, strep, and pneumonia. Through all of these illnesses I continued to pump, despite my body desperately needing hydration to function and recover. But it was all too much for me to handle. By the end of that month I went from producing 30-35 ounces of milk a day to 8 and no matter how hard I tried, how many times I pumped to stimulate flow, or lactation supplements I took, my body did not recover.
I was crushed. My heart ached. My daughter had already begun to lose her connection with me because of my time quarantining and inability to pick her up because of my broken ribs that were a result of my violent coughing. Without my milk I thought I would never get that connection back. I was succumbed by guilt and the outside voices did not provide any help.
I cannot tell you how many people judged me when they found out I was no longer breastfeeding. I got many, "You should breastfeed for at least a year. You are doing your baby a disservice."
Respectfully, be quiet.
People love to jump to conclusions but they do not know your reasoning for not breastfeeding and really it is none of their business. I know people who cannot breastfeed because of the medication they are on, or because they could not produce enough, or because it was too much on their mental health, or maybe because they just didn't want to. No one owes anyone an explanation, your reason is your own. I wanted to continue breastfeeding but it did not work out that way and in the end my daughter and I were better for it. Turns out her crankiness and gas pains had been a result of my breastmilk. A couple days after being on formula, my daughter was so much happier. She smiled more, no more screaming from gas pains. Even the daycare workers had noticed a significant change in her demeanor and even though it took many months for my daughter and I to reconnect, our relationship is stronger than ever before.
Conclusion
There are so many aspects of motherhood that are surrounded in guilt and shame. We do not need to add to the pain and difficulty of being a parent by worrying about whether we follow the suffocating expectations other's place on us. What works for some of us will not work for all of us; as long as your baby is happy and fed that is all that matters. Remember to do what is best for you and your family and practice self care. I knew for my mental health I needed to move on from my breastfeeding adventure and I was a better and happier mother to my daughter because of it.
Thanks for reading!
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