Good Advice: This is Not a Test

Welcome, Carnival of Breastfeeding Readers!

After preparing for a natural delivery, I had a cesarean due to my baby’s breech position. By the time of my surgery, I had accepted it (mostly), but I became more determined than ever to breastfeed. I felt that the baby’s position wasn’t under my control, but breastfeeding was a choice I could make. And it’s natural, so it should be easy, right?

During my pregnancy, I met many people who tried and failed to breastfeed. I chalked it up to lack of support, but I had a doula, lactation consultants, and two breastfeeding reference books. After my childbirth classes (both of which covered breastfeeding) and reading, I felt educated. I knew that pain could usually be corrected by adjusting the latch or positioning. I notified the lactation consultants of my cesarean date to ensure that I would be seen as soon as possible on the first day. I was prepared, just as I had been for the birth. I had my books, My Brest Friend pillow, nursing bras, nursing pads, nipple cream, cute nursing pajamas, the schedule for the hospital's breastfeeding support group, the contact information for the local La Leche League meeting, and even a sign for the hospital bassinet that read,"No Bottles, Please, I'm Learning to Breastfeed". Not only was I prepared, I was confident.

The cesarean went smoothly and a lactation consultant came to see me right after recovery as planned. An LC visited us at least once a day for the 4 days we were in the hospital. Ian was a great eater, but I had a lot of pain. I wasn't too concerned, I figured that I had the resources to work it out. Between my doula, my childbirth educator and the lactation consultants, I received only good advice, but nothing quite seemed to work. At 6 weeks, I was still just white-knuckling it, hoping the pain would end before the next feeding. I really dreaded feeding him because the pain had switched from just sore nipples to shooting internal breast pain. I was frustrated that with all the help and knowledge, we just couldn't get it right. Ian clamped down hard and fast and I just couldn't get him on far enough. I glared at the television as I re-watched “Follow Me Mum” where Rebecca Glover says,” Breastfeeding should be 100% pleasant and comfortable”. I went to the see the LC several times, but I felt guilty for not "succeeding". I didn't think she could help me anymore and I didn't want her to feel like she had failed. All the breastfeeding resources claimed breastfeeding was easier than bottlefeeding, I started to think that was a lie. I started to wonder why I putting myself through all the pain, but I didn't want to quit, or more accurately, I didn't want to fail. Something had to change or I knew I wouldn't make it.

After 6 weeks of pain and frustration, it was my mother’s suggestion to give him a bottle once a day that saved my breastfeeding.

I have to give my mother credit for supporting me. I was a formula baby. My mother gave birth to me, her first child, in an American military hospital in Germany by cesarean. She was completely out during the procedure. One of the last things she heard was,” Should we do a spinal or general?”

The answer came back,” Knock her out. The shipment didn’t come in”.

I’ve seen pictures and she was really out of it after my birth. Needless to say, there was no lactation consultant at that hospital. The nurses said to her, “Cesarean? You’ll bottle feed.” So she did.

I lived with my parents for most of my pregnancy and until almost three months after the birth. I couldn’t have asked for a more supportive mother. She didn’t always understand my choices at first, like having a doula, but she was open-minded and came to see the value. I’m not sure she understood my insistence on breastfeeding, especially since she never did it, but she didn’t try to talk me out of it. She talked me out of my perfectionism instead (at least on this issue).

Supplementing is often presented as a slippery slope to bottlefeeding, but if you are committed to breastfeeding and supplement sparingly, it can get you through the rough patches. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. Breastfeeding and childbirth shouldn't be viewed in terms off success and failure because doing so takes your focus off of your baby and puts it onto yourself. When I realized this and started allowing myself one bottle break a day, my attitude towards the learning process improved. I had a mental and physical break from the pain. Some days I would just rest, other days, I experimented with my breast pump to build up a frozen supply. I thought it was a matter of coordination and it would work itself out if I could hang in long enough. Taking that little break, gave me hope that I would see the other side.

A week into my "bottle break" day-by-day plan, my LC called to check on me. I felt guilty, but I told her I was still having pain. She pressed me for details and after I described my pain she suggested it might be Raynaud’s. My symptoms didn’t match completely, so she told me to come in to see her. In the meantime, she suggested using a heating pad to see if it made a difference in the pain. If we determined that it was Raynaud's, there was medication I could take. Fortunately, I did have improvement with the heating pad and decided not to take the medication. By 10 weeks there was dramatic improvement and I was able to give up the heating pad. By 12 weeks, I was pain-free. I ditched the nipple ointment and the daily bottle.

Today my son is 6 months old and we are still breastfeeding. In fact, I've breastfed in four countries and can honestly say that breastfeeding IS easier, especially during travel, once you get the hang of it. I do give my son a bottle occassionally (about once a month), but his primary source of nutrition is me. Based on my experience, here is the advice I would give to new mothers:

1. Get help early and often. Be descriptive about your pain/problems and keep going for help, until your problem is resolved.
2. If you need to take a bottle break, don’t feel guilty. Try to wait until 6 weeks to allow breastfeeding to get established and avoid nipple confusion. If you do it sparingly, it will help you through the rough period and increase your chances of reaching the rewards stage.

Check out the other bloggers in the Motherwear Carnival of Breastfeeding: Good Advice/Bad Advice:

*Tanya, at Motherwear gives you resources to find good breastfeeding advice.
*Breastfeeding 1-2-3: "How to get good medical advice on breastfeeding."
*Black Breastfeeding Blog: "The best breastfeeding advice I ever got."
*The Baby Gravy Train: "Best breastfeeding advice."
*Mocha Milk: "Welcome to the March Carnival of Breastfeeding!"
*Breastfeeding Mums: "Good Advice/Bad Advice."
*Stacie at the Twinkies writes,"If Only I Had Known..."
Andi at Mama Knows Breast writes about establishing your milk supply.
Jennifer at The Lactivist talks about Exclusively Pumping
Steph at Random Wonderings on "A Lot Learned from Bad Advice"

Great Expectations and First Impressions: The Beginning of Love

Welcome Motherwear Readers to the February Blogging Carnival on Baby Love

With penetrating blue eyes and indie rock hairstyle, my kid was born cool. That was my first impression,"This kid is cool." As a cesarean baby, he had very little warning that he would be removed from the comfort and security of my womb,but his eyes were open when the doctors took him out. Maybe I am reading into things, I know newborns can't see very well, but he looked around to survey the area before he started to cry. He was awake. Calm and curious and awake, just as I expected my little Tai Chi master to be. The biggest movements I felt during my pregnancy occurred during yoga savansa when the teacher played Aum chant music. It felt like he was doing Tai Chi. A kid excited by Aum? Very cool. I got a quick glance at him in the OR, but I didn’t hold him until I was back in my room. I quickly discovered that I had been confusing his lack of room to move with an even temperment!

It wasn’t love at first sight, it was wonder. Total amazement. He seemed like a beautiful little alien. He was perfect and yet, he didn’t seem real. Somehow I thought I would recognize him since he’d been my constant companion, but I didn’t. I recognized my husband’s nose and mouth. I recognized my sister’s knit brow and skeptical expression, a look that has come to be known in our family as “The Katie”. I saw my father’s chin and the face and eyes of all my siblings, but the total package was new and strange and perfect.

Without the benefit of labor to get me out of my head, I was still trying to make sense of it all intellectually, to reconcile my expectations with reality.
I thought I would meet my son after a long, unmedicated labor. In my fantasy, I imagined I’d be pushed to the limits of my womanly strength and just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I’d emerge triumphantly on the other side, victorious, with a baby. I would cry with joy and relief as I clutched him to my breast, where he would start nursing a la Madonna and Child. Instead, we checked into the hospital at 6am and he was out of me by 8:10am. It was so easy* it felt almost like cheating. So easy that when I looked at him, I marvelled at his perfection, but I couldn’t make the connection that he came from me.

For the first few days, I just held him close letting the reality of him soak into my skin. I just kept saying to my husband,”I can’t believe it, can you?” How could we, in all our failings, with all our shortcomings, have made someone so wonderful? Were we even deserving of him? Every sound he made was fascinating. He threw his head around trying to see and kicked his still-bent frog legs trying to stand. Amazing. With his head on my shoulder (as he demanded to be held upright even in his sleep), I listened to the sound of his breathing. I stared at him trying to memorize the details of his face. Before he was born, I thought all babies looked the same. Afterwards, I knew there was no way I could ever confuse him with another baby.

Finally, on the third day of my hospital stay, that feeling of euphoria came over me and I knew he was mine. Of course, he was mine. He was the one I’d been waiting for all of my life. It was as if I’d always known him and always loved him. He is my sidekick, my muse, my only perfect creation, a physical manifestation of love, my connection to eternity and all the other cliches. I get it, now. And wait, two people felt this way about me? Mind-blowing.

Loving him helps me love myself. I want to be a better person for him and at the same time, I know that I am already enough. I love everything about him and when I see myself reflected in him, I love those parts of me. I love my son because he exists. He doesn’t have to do anything or be anything. I love him. Whether he is screaming his head off and stomping his foot like Rumplestiltskin or giving me a look and a smile as if he’s sharing a hilarious secret with me, I love him. Watching my husband with him fills me with joy and confidence. I love my husband for loving him. Ian is counting on us to teach him to be a good man, a good world citizen, to reach his dreams, to learn from pain, to be the best that he can be. We must do our best.

Happy First Valentine’s Day, Ian. I hope you feel loved every day of your life.

Check out the other bloggers at:

Tanya at Motherwear on "How My Body Loved My Baby When My Mind Could Not"

Angela at Breastfeeding 1-2-3, who contributes 10 strategies for "Helping Your Child Welcome a New Baby into the Family;"

Sinead at Breastfeeding Mums, who writes "Love is All Around Me;"

Andi at Mama Knows Breast, who reviews the book, "Babyproofing Your Marriage;"

Jen at The Lactivist, who writes about how baby love makes you do crazy things.

Melissa at Booby Juice, who contributes "In Love with My Babies,"

Colleen at My Baby and More, who writes about "Baby Lust...er...Love." Enjoy!






*Except for the recovery, but I recovered quickly. My unmedicated VBAC 2.5 years later proved to be much easier.