Crying over spilled milk

As a stubborn person, I’ve always believed that if I set my mind to something - I can (and will) accomplish it. I’ve pushed myself to do things that seemed impossible at first, like running a marathon or giving up sweets for Lent.

Breastfeeding was different. 

I had heard it all before – breastfeeding is a full-time job, it’s the hardest thing you will ever do. I was prepared for this, I love a challenge. What I didn't hear, and wasn’t ready for, was the possibility that I may not be able to exclusively breastfeed my child – no matter how hard I tried.

Would knowing this have made a difference from the onset? I honestly don’t know. Like I said before, I’m stubborn. But I hope that my story can provide some respite to other mamas out there struggling with breastfeeding. I ultimately found comfort knowing I was not alone.  

Without re-counting the detailed chronological account of my complicated relationship with breastfeeding, I’ve identified the major hurdles along the way:

The Latch. 

Breastfeeding is not intuitive. Perhaps leaving the Birth Center mere hours after Parker's birth (yes, hours) was where things first went wrong. Without hands-on support from other women who have walked this path before me, I found myself unable to conjure up the innate mother goddess instinct that allows you to breastfeed with ease.  

Pulling out the resource materials from the breastfeeding course I took before giving birth, I poured over each image in an attempt to re-create the illusive latch. I was sure I needed more arms, but lacking this miracle I would have to settle for some outside help. What followed was a series of sessions with a lactation consultant, visits from a postpartum doula, hands-on tutorials with my midwife and the nurses at the Birth Center. I was constantly scouring the internet for breastfeeding tips and shed many, many, exhausted tears. I tried using nipple shields that were too small and painful. I tried every position under the sun - cradle, cross-body cradle, football, side-lying, laid-back. I stood up, I sat down, I laid down, I used a pillow, I used all the pillows, I used no pillows. Finally, after many stressful self-determined "training sessions" and coaching from other women, we had success. Something clicked. She was drinking! I could hear her swallowing! 

Supply & Demand.

Once we finally had the mechanics down, I found myself facing another hurdle. My milk supply was not keeping pace with my newborn’s appetite. We were at the pediatrician’s office almost daily to get weight checks. Even with around-the-clock cluster feeding sessions for days at a time (and I really do mean around the clock) and copious amounts of Mother’s Milk tea, she took weeks to re-gain her birth weight and was always hungry. She was hovering around the 5th percentile on the weight charts.  

After several of these weight-check visits, I found myself sitting in the pediatrician’s office balling my eyes out. I knew I couldn’t starve my baby because I was too stubborn to give up my dream of exclusively breastfeeding my child. From everything I read on mom blogs and breastfeeding sites, supplementing was the ultimate worst thing I could do. Supplementing would interrupt the natural law of supply and demand. Several tissues later, I took a deep breath and decided enough was enough - we needed to feed this baby. 

It was like night and day. Parker was an entirely different infant when she was full. I cringed that we were bottle feeding her formula (which I saw as synonymous with poison) and was worried about introducing “nipple confusion”. I kept repeating to myself fed is best. I reminded myself that both my husband and I were formula-fed babies. We turned out just fine (at least in our own, not so humble, opinions). I was still committed to the idea that supplementing was a temporary band-aid. I was just running a little behind due to my setback with the latch but I could still catch up. 

Crying over spilled milk, literally

For 6 full months I attempted to “catch up.” Despite the exhaustion and anxiety inherent in being a first-time mom, I dedicated myself fully to the task at hand. I pumped every time she received a bottle. I made lactation cookies and took fenugreek supplements. I went back to a vegan diet when we determined she had a milk allergy. My whole body broke out in hives (likely stress induced) but that wasn’t going to stop me. We both ended up with thrush, making breastfeeding painful and prematurely weaning what little supply I had built up at that point. While treating the thrush I started exclusively pumping. I

broke down and purchased expensive wireless pumps that would allow me to pump more frequently and pretty much anywhere. I tried power pumping and started hand expressing after pumping sessions. I was compulsively reading everything I could find on the subject and willing to try pretty much anything. 

I was so proud of these 4 oz after pumping only 1oz at a time

We practically lived at the pediatrician’s office. Parker continued to fluctuate between the 5th-10th percentile on the weight charts, even while we were supplementing with formula. It turns out - she just runs small. She was perfectly healthy and at 6 months was 99th percentile in height while only 7th percentile in weight. (Go figure!)

An Identify Crisis. 

The road was long and bumpy, but at 11 months I am still breastfeeding my baby twice a day. I surprised myself when I decided to keep going after the 6 month mark. We breastfeed in the mornings and evening right before bed. She receives two bottles of formula throughout the day, and eats solids like a champ. I no longer view the formula as “toxic" or “evil" - but appreciate it as a break. Someone else can help feed her - hurray! I also no longer regard supplementing as my ultimate failure as a mom; I’ve made peace with where I am and ultimately proud of the strength, commitment, and perseverance I exhibited throughout this whole process.

Bedtime breastfeeding & snuggle session at 10-months

Getting to this point of acceptance was not easy, nor did it come overnight. I’ve been writing and re-writing this piece for a few weeks now because it’s painful remembering what it was like to walk through this experience - the doubt, the anxiety, the exhaustion, the constant comparison to other moms who made it look easy. I just want to give my past self a hug, a box of tissues, and let her know it’s all going to be OK. It is this past version of myself that I keep coming back to the page to write my story for. It is for any other mother who may be in the same position I was only a handful of months ago — trying every tip and trick under the sun to get her milk supply up and still having to supplement at the end of the day.

Ultimately, logic was not what brought me to this inner peace. I did read, and really appreciated, the chapter “Breast is best? Breast is better? Breast is about the same?” in Emily Oster’s excellent book - Cribsheet: A Data-Driven Guide to Better, More Relaxed Parenting, from Birth to Preschool. It laid out what we actually know (and what we really don’t know) about the benefits of breastfeeding. This book should be required reading for any new parent and I wished I had read it prior to giving birth. Bottom line - I was not dooming my child to a life of being over-weight and having a lower IQ by supplementing with formula. 

At the end of the day, I had to untangle exclusive breastfeeding from my vision of myself as a good, loving mother. I had to determine for myself what was working for Parker and myself, and what wasn’t. I came to the conclusion around her 8-month mark that I truly enjoyed the snuggling and intentional mother-daughter time while breastfeeding in the morning and evenings. I didn’t enjoy pumping at work and always fretting about how many ounces I needed to send to daycare the next day. I gradually dropped one pumping session at a time until I was down to just the two feedings. I let the daycare staff and my husband pick up the other feeds depending on the day. They didn’t care if it was a bottle of breastmilk or formula, and Parker didn’t seem to mind either. This lifted a huge burden off my shoulders - I knew she was getting enough food, she was healthy, growing, and happy, and I was a lot less stressed.

The Silver Lining

Now that my baby is past the newborn phase and very quickly approaching “toddlerhood", I can look back and see my breastfeeding journey from a more generous and compassionate perspective. I can also see that this experience has softened me. It has made me more empathetic and less quick to judge myself and other mothers. 

Today I celebrate my first Mother’s Day. I find myself with a newfound appreciation and respect for my own mother, my mother-in-law, and all the beautiful women out there who show up every day to give their best-selves to their children. I draw inspiration and strength from these courageous, generous, loving women. I am proud to be a mother and no longer find myself crying over spilled milk.