My Breastfeeding Journey

Like many mums-to-be I’m sure, I had my whole breastfeeding journey planned. I read the books, took a private breastfeeding class, read countless articles listing things other women wish they had been told before embarking on their journey, joined a breastfeeding Facebook group local to me so I knew what support there was and read daily the obstacles the women in this group were facing so that I knew the sorts of “issues” I could face and what solutions/words of advice were offered. I was confident that I was as prepared as I could be. All I needed now, I thought, was my little girl so I could put all this knowledge into practice.

What I hadn’t accounted for though was my daughter and whether she actually wanted to breastfeed. It sounds so naïve now that I could read a book and a few articles and hey presto I’m a breastfeeding expert.

What hadn’t been highlighted to me was the fact that my baby might not want to breastfeed. I had been led to believe that the moment a baby is born they will do the “breast crawl”, sniff out the scent of your milk and latch on perfectly first time. Sadly nothing could have been further from the truth.

Whilst I had done the research, spent time and money in making sure I was in the best position to feed my daughter, I did it all without so much as a second’s thought as to what she would want.

I had read the books and articles. She hadn’t.

I had it all planned out in my mind’s eye. And d’you know what? She couldn’t care less.

She was going to do what she was going to do. She didn’t care about the dream I had of being cuddled up with her in the lovely glider chair I’d bought for the relentless midnight/middle-of-the-night feeds I had mentally prepared myself for. She just didn’t care. And why would she?  

Not accounting for my daughter’s ideas was my first and biggest mistake, and I made it approximately 27 seconds after she was born as I was desperately trying to get this screaming, wriggling bundle to latch on. So much for the peaceful, beautiful, serene moment I had pictured so vividly in my head.

Instead it was a menagerie of hands trying to guide my nipple to my daughter’s mouth. No easy feat when she’s flailing her arms and legs around and thrashing her head from side-to-side. Eventually, I’m not sure after how long, we abandoned the mission. Being so tiny when she was born she needed to be taken to the Special Care Baby Unit (SCBU) for observation and routine blood/sugar tests, temperature etc….

My dream of exclusively breastfeeding my baby came crashing down around my ears when I learned almost immediately that Sienna needed to have a feeding tube so that she could be formula fed every hour. She didn’t have enough fat stores in her body to support her being awake to feed by herself. So she was left to sleep pretty much as much as she wanted in the first few days. I didn’t need to worry about her missing out on feeds because the wonderful nurses in SCBU were topping her feeding tube up every hour.

In the meantime, I was expressing – at first by hand and then with an electric pump – I honestly felt like I could put Jersey Dairy out of business! Eventually the formula being given to Sienna via the tube was reduced so that my milk could be introduced. It felt amazing that I was giving my little girl all the goodness of my milk. Not quite how I imagined I would be feeding her, but she was getting the goodness nonetheless.

I am pleased to say that Sienna only needed the feeding tube for a week and on 28 April the nurses were able to remove it. Now we could get down to business. Mission Breastfeed was back on.

I would learn very quickly that Sienna’s low birth weight meant that her jaw muscles weren't strong enough to draw my nipple out, so breastfeeding was not an option. Or so I thought. Then I was introduced to nipple shields. I won’t try and describe what they are; here’s a picture of one.

             

You place one over your breast and the baby latches onto the already protruding “nipple” without any real effort. As they begin to suckle the suction draws your own nipple out and into the vacuum and your milk filters out through the small holes at the tip of the shield.

Again, this is far cry from how I thought I would feed my baby. But after all the books and articles I had read (!) I knew that the benefits Sienna would get from having my milk would far outweigh any feeling of disappointment I might be feeling at the artificial set up we needed.

What quickly became clear was that using a nipple shield in public was out of the question. Imagine this:

So I have a screaming baby laying across my lap. I have to “free” one nipple it’s ready to have the shield – which I found I needed to lick first so that it actually stuck to my skin – stuck to it. Often times I would need to re-position the shield because in my haste to get Sienna feeding as quickly as possible, my nipple would not line up with the shield’s nipple. Oh, by the way, remember the screaming baby I had laying across my lap? So she’s still screaming, only now it’s louder because I haven’t seen to her demand as soon as she would like and so her arms and legs are thrashing around, inevitably knocking the shield – remember the shield that has taken me at least two attempts to secure? – off. And so it’s back to square one. Eventually we’re set and she’s nestled nicely under my arm (I found that the rugby hold worked best for us), feeding.

Now imagine going through all of that in Costa! I’m all for mums breastfeeding their children in public but the rigmarole I was going through each time Sienna needed feeding was not sustainable in public. Which meant that I either had to be at home each time she wanted to feed, or if I didn’t want to be a prisoner in my own home, she would need to be fed by a bottle (with either my expressed milk, or formula).

By the time Sienna had the strength in her jaw to feed without the shield, she wasn’t interested in having to do the work in order to get the milk because the shield gave instant results with relatively little work. And so it came to pass that I was not able to fulfil my dream of breastfeeding my baby girl.

Was I upset about it at the time? Yes.

7 months later am I still upset about it? Yes.

But the upset is outweighed by the fact that a fed baby is better than a breastfed baby if breastfeeding really isn’t working.

Words of advice for expectant mums who would like to breastfeed? Do the research, sure. But also be aware that not every baby will take to breastfeeding and that’s no reflection on you as a mum. You’ve probably heard the saying “breast is best”. That’s simply not true. When all’s said and done, and at the end of the day, fed is best.

Don’t persevere with breastfeeding if you or baby aren’t happy with how it’s going. Don’t be guilt-tripped into sticking with it if you or baby aren’t happy with how it’s going. And whatever you do, don’t feel any less of a great mum if you can’t/don’t want to breastfeed.

One of the best pieces of advice I received while Sienna was in SCBU was this:

With everything you do with your baby, make sure the answer to these three questions is “yes”:

Is mum happy?

Is baby happy?

Is it safe?

If you can answer yes to all three, you’re good to go.