The Heartbreaking World of Breastfeeding

Often times when I’m posting here it’s not just for me but for friends and family near and far too, a way to keep in touch and keep everyone in the loop. But today, this post, well this one seems just for me. I just need a place to vent today…

When youre pregnant, people warn you of a lot of things – you’ll lose sleep, you’ll never leave the house again, you’re heart will grow bigger than you ever imagined, etc. But nobody ever warns you about how much you will cry! Sad tears, happy tears, tears of frustration, of helplessness, of pure joy. It just doesn’t end.

This week, the tears have been all about breastfeeding. Oh, the heartbreak that is breastfeeding.

When I was pregnant, I always told people that I would try breastfeeding and if it really wasn’t working out to the determent of my happiness then I wouldn’t push it. It doesn’t take being in mental health to figure out that a happy mom means a happy baby but my preceding year working so closely with post-partum depressed moms and their little ones, witnessing that interaction face-on, yeah that certainly cemented it for me.

A couple of years ago Sean and I were out to dinner with friends of ours who had recently become parents. In talking about how thrilled we were to see them out so early into the storm, they explained that they had a bit more freedom since their baby boy was being bottle fed with formula. Colin was a premie who had trouble sucking due to his teeny size so Kerrene had been pumping like crazy since day one to still get him breastmilk. Obviously it had been challenging (who can stand being attached to a machine for all that time?!) and after finding her in tears, her husband said maybe enough is enough. Though this all happened 2.5 years ago, well before I had Lola anywhere on my mind, this memory stuck with me so fiercely. It sounded so logical and simple – do it if it works, stop when it doesn’t. Sean agreed.

So this is how I went into it. Everyone talks about how challenging it can be and I did find that to be true – it hurts SO much at first, it makes you a weepy, emotional mess, your body feels so used, its tiring, its confusing, and just when you think you’ve mastered it, a new challenge comes along and you feel like a beginner all over again. But for me, the challenges were never that severe and they never outweighed the benefits. Though I was a weepy mess, that weepiness was often happy weepiness and I loved those happy hormones. Also the convenience couldn’t be beat. And stopping to feed provided me with special one on one time with my little Lola that was just ours. No one else could feed her, just me. I loved that.

We had a great run for a long time. I took such pride in that Lola was exclusively breastfed. We fed throughout the day and throughout the night and rarely ran into too much trouble. Leading up to January I pumped and pumped and stocked my freezer obsessively so that nothing but my own milk would ever be digested by my Lola. I was surprised to find how smoothly the transition to work was too – I’d feed Lola before I went to work, pumped a bottle before work, pumped another one at work, then fed Lola myself another three times before sleeping. In this way, I was feeding Lola at least 4 times per day and the 2 bottles she was getting were filled with that liquid gold, 4oz each of Natalie’s finest.

But then the bumps in the road started. Frist, I was finding it harder and hard to pump enough to make  a decent sized bottle. When I sheepishly shared this with Lola’s doctor at her 4 month checkup, he laughed and gave me formula. “But is it okay to supplement with formula?”  I asked. He looked at me like I had two heads – “Of course its okay!” he replied (read: how else do you plan to feed her?). It clearly did not bother him in the least but it still bothered me.

It took me a good two weeks before I finally gave in and made Lola’s first formula bottle which just happened to coincide with us having friends over. As I handed over Lola and her bottle over to Kate I told the room, “Its formula, don’t judge me.” I can hardly describe the puzzled, why-do-you-think-we-give-a-shit looks I got in response to that comment. Its safe to say that the only judgment I was getting was in regards to my mental state for thinking these childless friends of mine would care the slightest about the contents of Lola’s bottle. That was the day I learned that the only person in my life judging me for this feeding nonsense was…me.

And so formula became part of the repertoire. I was still pumping and feeding same as before but now there was a lot less pressure attached to it: when I didn’t get enough milk, formula would top her off. On weekends we would stick to her weekday routine, giving her two bottles each day (sometimes a mix of milk and formula, sometimes just milk, sometimes just formula). It was then that I realized I loved bottle-feeding Lola. She is so funny during feedings! She loves to hold the bottle herself and won’t let go of it for anything in the world. It was also so sweet to see her and Sean spending that quiet time together. Everything seemed perfect.

This lovely phase lasted until last week. As we settled into our 5:30pm nursing, Lola immediately seemed agitated. Still, she ate. Until suddenly she slapped her hand down and pulled herself away and screamed. I swear, it wasn’t even crying, it was screaming. Then just as suddenly she went back to feeding as if nothing had happened. I almost thought I imagined it…until Lola did it again a few minutes later. And again. And again. Since then its happened on and off during her afternoon and evening feedings, though less so at night before bed.

Last night it reached a new level during her nighttime feeding. Sean came up to the nursery to find both Lola and I in hysterics. “I think its time to stop” he said gently.  

Yes, these evening feedings were getting stressful and sad but I still had the morning feed! Although my mind knew Sean was simply enforcing the plan I had always set out for myself, I wasn’t giving up my first feed with Lola.

Then this morning, for the first time, Lola screamed her way through breakfast.

...

I had to take a break from writing this after that sentence. The truth is, although I have been growing increasingly more done with breastfeeding, I am still having a hard time knowing that Lola is feeling the same way. My very lovely friend Jacqueline kindly framed this positively, pointing out how attuned Lo and I are with one another (obviously Jac is a psychologist too, we are all about attunement). I should be happy – we both are reaching this conclusion together. But instead… I just feel so sad.

Despite how down I am about it, I know that stopping breastfeeding is the right decision for us. Honestly, there is a lot that I could do to try to reinstate Lola's interest. There's no shortage of tips and tricks online. But I don't have it in me. 

Maybe I wouldn't be taking this so hard if there wasn't SO MUCH judgement out there regarding all of this. Even the formula comes with a warning label: breastfeeding is the preferred method for feeding infants, consult a doctor. The solid foods guide we got from the hospital says that one should breastfeed for at least 2 years for proper development. Its put the fear of God in me that unspeakable things will happen if I quit breastfeeding too soon. 

But then I look at Lola and see how happy she is, how beautifully she's developing, and I think about how we got to this point by going with the flow, listening to each other, changing with one another. When the biggest changes came, there wasn't much thought to it, we sort of just moved in that new direction because it felt right. And every time we've found happiness and success. 

When I really concentrate on that, no longer breastfeeding doesn't really feel like a decision at all so much as the natural end of one path and the beginning of the next. I loved my time nursing Lola and I am so grateful to have had these 6 months with her. I know many moms who wanted that experience so badly and didn't get it, I know I am a lucky one. 

So, I'm going to snuggle Lola extra closely in the remaining nursing sessions we have, enjoy every second of it, soak it all up. 

And then, with a heavy heart, we'll move on.