The B Word

Now, now, if you opened this with the mind set that you would find something your mother would put soap in your mouth for, then you are about to be strongly disappointed.

My B-word of choice is almost as controversial, however. Breastfeeding.

And just like that I have opened a box of unsolicited advice, pressure, beautiful stories (and horror stories), emotional health, and an absolute plethora of diverse experiences. If you are disgusted by the thought of formula, or a women saying she cannot breastfeed, then I suggest you click out of this post because I am here to advocate for the women who just could not do it - and here is a picture of my formula fed milk drunk baby on your way out.

The biggest question asked at every single doctors appointment for this tiny human I have birthed is “you are still breastfeeding, right?”. It seems like an innocent question but read it this way ..... “Are you still breastfeeding?” That sounds a little less judgmental than “you’re still breastfeeding, right?”. The simple addition of the “right”, adds so many levels of judgment. It adds that extra dig to the mom who just could not handle the emotional stress of having someone attached to her boob all day long. I am not talking about not wanting to set aside the time, I am talking about the actual mental state of a women who feels completely alone during a time that is supposed to be so “natural” and “beautiful”.

So many people stress the health of the mom during pregnancy, we need them to be healthy and strong and do everything possible for the baby to be able to be healthy and strong also. Then, baby is born. This absolute miracle, that has to be proof God is real, enters this world. It leaves behind a vessel who now has to self heal, whose organs have to find their way back to the right place, whose body has just gone through something pretty traumatic, but whose job is so far from over. She is now expected to continue to give herself to this person even outside of her tired body. And if she cannot, she is shamed. She is not making the right choice. She did not try hard enough or long enough. There is always something else she has not heard of that could help. She hears it from doctors and friends and strangers on the internet. Eventually, she believes it and even though she mentally and emotionally cannot handle it, she continues because it has to be the “right” thing to do, right? Just for personal references, let us add in the mother whose husband is gone, or whose boyfriend walked out, or the mother who decided to do this on her own. The mother who has support and help but it is not from the person who created this life with her. Sure, breastfeeding is something only she can do, but how many people have support from their significant other? They wake up with you, feed you snacks while you have a baby on you, hold your hand and kiss your forehead when you are stressed from cluster feedings, or just tell you “gosh, I have never loved you more than I do now”. Take that away and I bet it does not seem so simple anymore. The CDC has an article out on breastfeeding and in it they said, “To reach their breastfeeding goals, mothers need worksite accommodations and continuity of care through consistent, collaborative and high-quality breastfeeding services.” That is it? That is all a women needs? That is what is wrong with this topic. A women needs more than a room to breastfeed/pump in and a good lactation consultant who will shove her boob in her kids mouth. A women needs the reassurance that her well being is just as important. I breastfed my daughter for 4 days. I cried as the lactation consultant squeezed my nipple for 30 minutes just to get a 1/4 of a spoonful of colostrum. I watched my 3 weeks early baby go 6 hours without eating anything because she just would not take my boob anymore. I begged the nurses to check her latch over and over after being told it was perfect even though she was not sucking. I chugged water and ate oatmeal and drank nasty teas that I cannot pronounce. I lost myself. I disappointed myself.

I pumped (while still trying to latch her) for 11 days. I sat on the edge of the bed every few hours and prayed she would not wake up for 15 minutes. I washed pump parts between bottles and filled freezer bags between feedings. I fell into a mundane existence. I felt my mental health just crumble. I based my ability to mother my child on that damn ounces line on the pump bottles. I let the notion that breast is best completely take over every part of me. I lost my appetite, and my confidence in myself.

At the hospital when I had to ask one of At home pumping from both boobs for

Dallas' nurses to teach me how to pump 15 min, ths was the most I had gotten and

after I was discharged and she was kept for after this is was never more than 2oz total.

jaundice. Both boobs, 15 min.

I did not want to let my daughter down, my husband down, her pediatrician down, or the strangers who give me advice down. So instead I let myself suffer. Why do we do this? I gave my daughter formula. She did not grow a third arm, or turn a different color. She gained weight, got rid of her jaundice, she can lift her head and roll on her side. She sleeps 4-5 hours in a row at night, she is alive and happy, her belly is full, and I am pretty sure she does not give a crap about me popping bottles instead of popping my boob out.

I could not breastfeed. I could not continue to pump. I could not allow myself to fall into a dark place because people had convinced me I needed to put her getting boob over my mental health. I could not lose myself and miss out on the joy of being a mom.

I still struggle with the choice to stop, and wonder if I am being a bad mom. I wonder if I should pump through the pain of drying out my supply and see if maybe I can pump through the mental struggle too. Whatever the case, it is my choice to make and the choice might just be that my emotional well-being needs to come first. I applaud you for breastfeeding if you do, but I applaud you for not also. You are an amazing mom. No matter how you feed your baby.

xoxo, ALD