So this blog post has been something I have been avoiding…
something I didn’t think I would be able to write, but knew I had to. When I
would consider writing it, I would paralyze with fear thinking you all would
think I was a fraud or hypocrite. Then,
something interesting happened, I had a phone call with a great friend that quickly
put life into prospective. I realized by
not sharing this story I was being selfish, I would have truly been a fraud. So
here goes nothing…
Where do I begin…?
I remember when I first found out I was pregnant, ohh the
flooding of advice you receive. The great stories and the ugly stories….The solicited
and un-solicited comments that you just can’t even imagine people would really
say out loud…let alone to a first time mom.
Thankfully I felt pretty grounded and confident in my journey to
motherhood and had a great support system that enabled me to let the bad things
go and embrace the good. I was sure of
two things 1) I was going to do everything in my power to bring this baby boy
into the world healthy and safe 2) I was going to breastfeed as long as I could
for sure for the first year, hopefully two years.
By the grace of God I had a fairly easy
pregnancy and enjoyed an amazing birth that I did not deserve, it was gift that
only He can provide. I got #1 done. My 8lb baby boy was delivered and laid on my chest immediately,
he we was perfect in every way and latched on and began nursing just like
nature intended. IT WAS MAGIC or at
least it felt that way. I was overwhelmed
with the fact that he just did it, like the books say he will, but I had been convinced by lots of moms it would be hard; I was convinced we would
have to work at it; I was in disbelief that it could be that easy.
For the first 24 hours while we were in the hospital I was
obsessed with charting, when he ate, how long he ate, how he was latched on, if
he was doing it right…. I begged the nurses to bring in a lactation consultant
because – there was no way, me, a first time mom could possibly be doing this
right... Now please, please do not take offense to me saying this. I KNOW that
breastfeeding can be a challenge, I KNOW this is NOT the case for everyone,
that is why I was convinced I was doing it wrong. The nurse kept telling me I was fine and to
look at the wet and soiled diapers that we perfect. Finally I gave in, reluctantly, and left the
hospital without seeing a lactation consultant, but confident that they must be right.
Months passed and my little one was a speed eater, he was on
a schedule, and we were doing it! He
would drain a boob like it was his job …. Ok I guess it kind of was his
job. I was able to lend advice to other
moms and felt so blessed and lucky that our breastfeeding journey was so
natural. Of course I had moments of “wait…did
he get enough?”…”why is his poop neon green?”….”ughhh when do I get my freedom
back… ? is he seriously hungry AGAIN!”….it was so wonderful and so demanding
all at the same time. I remember thinking;
we got this, 1 year – easy, 2 years, pretty likely. I had pictured what it would be like to nurse
him when I was pregnant with my second.
I pictured what weaning would look like.
I thought of donating my extra milk supply to a milk bank.
But then… at 6 months many of these thoughts started to disappear. My confidence disappeared as quickly as it had come. I had been back working 3 days a week and pumping every 3
hours while at work. I was dedicated and
determined to supply my little one 100% breast milk until he was fully
weaned. There was NO WAY I was giving
him chemical laden poison (aka formula).
Yup that is totally how I felt and it is what kept me motivated to hook
up the pump with my chair pressed against the only door that had a lock (but I didn't trust it) in my office. I hated feeling like a
Jersey Dairy cow and hated that I had to tell my male dominated field of
co-workers and clients that I needed a “mom break” when we were in meetings or
out surveying. However, I LOVED giving
my son the best milk he could have, the perfect start for his life, I was proud
to bring in bags of breast milk to day care, and snuffed at the cans of formula
that lined the shelves for other kids. I
was not humble…. I needed a lesson in humility and I got it.
From about 6 months on, my son’s demand far surpassed my
supply. My freezer stock was being used
to supplement what I was pumping at work. I could not keep up… he wanted more
and more… and I was producing less and less.
I tried everything: supplements, more water, waking up at 4 am and
pumping while he was still sleeping, increased calorie intake, more
breastfeeding, pumping after every nursing, pumping until my nipples were sore…. Thankfully we introduced solids at 6 months
(that is for another post), and we limped along until he was about 9 months
old. At 9 months, I did not have 1 drop
of pumped milk to send him to day care, I was beside myself.
Crushed, confused, mad, sad, frustrated, hurt, lonely… how
could this be happening to me? And there
inly the problem… I thought this was about ME…. I attached all this emotion to
something I obviously did not have control over. Something that was starting to
hurt my son. I felt I had this image to
uphold. Here I was the one that always
preached about breastfeeding, natural parenting, REAL food, not eating/drinking
processed crap. Now I was going to have
to give my kid, the one thing I NEVER wanted to give him and admit to people
that I did it. I cried and sobbed into my ever supportive husbands arms, as much as he
did not understand, he tried, he tried to understand what it was like for a mom
to feel inadequate to provide their son the nutrition he needs. He tried to tell me it was ok and that so
many moms give their children formula that they are just fine. I would argue with him that “I am not other
moms and those kids are not fine!”…. ohhh how low of a point that was. It is so hard for me to tell you this story,
to admit that this strong, tenacious, educated, natural farm girl, mama is soo
very weak. Thank you for giving me
grace, thank you for understanding that even when someone seems to have it all
together… they too carry a cross… we all carry our own cross…
So at 9 months… my son had his first bottle of formula and
he loved it, he sucked it down as if it were the greatest thing he ever tasted
and wanted more. My poor baby had been hungry and my pride got in the way of what was
best for him.
Moving forward I still pumped, I
still pushed myself to produce as much milk as possible, but he needed at least
1, sometimes 2 bottles a day of formula.
I researched and researched the best brand and settle on this one (
http://amzn.to/1fsAcGT). Looking back, I probably should have made my own, but I will
wait for another post to dive into that. For a store bought formula, I am happy
with my choice. I was in such denial of
the situation I would try to hide giving my son formula (yep… hello crazy!)…
A couple more months passed and I
notice my supply was continuing to reduce, my son started to refuse to nurse
and would even avoid laying down on my lap in anticipation that I was going to
have him nurse. It was
heartbreaking!! It was so far from natural I couldn’t
comprehend what was happening. I would
get well meant advice to just keep trying (which I did), take a day and just
nurse as much as possible (tried…), but nothing was working. He was weaning himself before my eyes and he
was only 11 months old. He was done nursing and there was nothing I
could do to make him continue.
As I write this post, it has been
3 days since he truly nursed, I have gotten him to suckle a little in the early
morning while we snuggle in bed together, but once he realizes what he is doing…
he quickly sits up and plays with my face laughing and chit chatting. He is
done… and I am not.
This was not how it was supposed to
end, this was not my plan…but I have no choice, you can’t force a baby to latch
on, when they decide it is over, you are at their mercy. Ohh how humbled I have been.
My mom has said since my son was just
days old “this boy is either hot or cold, on or off, he knows what he wants”. Boy did she call it. Once he decided he was done, he was done… he
does not miss it, he does not put his hand down my shirt, he does not ask for
it… it as if he never was that perfect breastfeeding baby I used to describe. He is now even started to give up on formula
and just eat solids, it all happens too fast!
So what is the moral of this
story, why did I feel I had to write it? I am here to say, I was the biggest
advocate of breastfeeding and did all I could to nurse my son until he was at
least a year, but I couldn’t…. I have come to grips that I didn’t fail… I didn’t
give up… sometimes babies just make up their mind and there is nothing we can
do. If I had to do it all over again I
would, no regrets, it has all be a humbling, eye opening, sympathy creating experience. If this had not happened to me I don’t know
if I would be as good of a mother, friend, blogger, wife… as hard
as this was for me emotionally… I am better for it.
I might be judged by others…. But I vow to never judge
myself for making a good, informed, decision for me and my family!