Breastfeeding is a Bitch - But We Lovingly Do It Anyway

CHAPTER 3

Latching onto Latching

The fantasy of sweet nursing time was a reality for a few lucky women I talked to before and after I had My Little Milkaholic. I once read a book where these vapid socialites “channeled Kate Hudson” whenever they wanted to look good. It was a terrible book, but I adopted the concept. Throughout my pregnancy and breastfeeding, I channeled every person with good/easy/blissful birth and nursing stories that I could find. I do believe that what we picture or believe will happen, for the most part; the key is to get unstuck from the horror stories we latch onto.

My mother and two best friends told me how they loved breastfeeding because it was so relaxing, and how it was a great bonding experience for them. Unfortunately, channeling their stories didn’t work for me; we’ll get to that in a minute (or chapter to be more exact). I do, however, hold hope for our species in knowing that some women do have it relatively easy (relative being the key word).

A friend whose baby is a week younger than My Little Milkaholic, whom I’ll call Saint Riona, told me her nursling latched like a Hungry, Hungry Hippo. “He latched right away,” she said. “I have no idea what it felt like because I was in awe that I was holding my very own tiny human.” My neighborhood saintly naturopath was lucky that way too. She said her nursling would start sucking anywhere he could find skin. “One time when I was asleep, he latched onto my nose,” she said.

Having some pain or problems in the first week is pretty common, and although they can still be “good breastfeeding” stories, it does not mean they are without emotional turmoil. For some women there is a great fear surrounding breastfeeding. It is an unidentified fear, a sinking feeling, an unnamed anxiety. A friend of mine’s saintly cousin called this fear her “Impending Sense of Doom.” Every single time she nursed any of her three children she would experience this fear. She trained her family to tell her everything was going to be OK and to cheer her on. Once her nursling latched, the fear would go away. I picture her husband and other kids cheering her on, pompoms in hand, every three hours. While the fear part is awful, having a cheering squad every time you feed your baby seems awesome!

A friend’s mom, Saint Fiachra (an Irish saint), told me her story:

I went into motherhood prepared for delivery, but not for what was to happen when the baby was born. They brought her to me right away for her first nursing, but she fell asleep. When she woke up she was not able to latch on. I’d go down to the nursery and try to nurse her, but it didn’t work. The nurses urged bottles, but I wouldn’t do it. I was very, very committed to nursing.

When we went home in two days Twittlebug still hadn’t nursed. The hospital staff sent us home with diapers and a six-pack of bottles. I was soo terrified. I remember my Dear Husband getting the car while I was wheeled out to the hospital entrance, thinking, ‘How can they send me home with this baby – I don’t know how to take care of her!’ Sheer terror! We had no family to help, no friends nearby because we had only been in Virginia for three years and had no daytime friends. We were all alone.

We got home and still Twittlebug could not nurse. She cried and cried from hunger, but could not nurse. Again, I was committed to no bottles. I had no idea why it was so important, but it was do-or-die for me. I finally called La Leche League and this angel came to our apartment. She gave me a little disk thing to wear on my breast inside my bra. It passively expressed milk, which I gave to Twittlebug via an eyedropper. She only had a little bit, but went back to sleep. The next morning my breasts were not as engorged and Twittlebug was able to latch. That was the problem that a brand new mom could not have known – my breasts were too full for my little baby to latch onto.

I will never forget that wonderful woman who left her own young family at nine at night, and came to my house and saved me. As I write this, I am welling up with tears of gratitude. I went to La Leche meetings for years and years. Not only for breastfeeding advice, but to share with other moms who had the same mothering visions as me. I remain so grateful.

Moms are the best things ever, even if they’re not our own. I cannot express how grateful I am for this story. It was so cathartic for me. It amazes me how women forget the pain of birth, but even after thirty years, viscerally remember their breastfeeding trials.

A woman from my birthing class was told her nipples were “made for nursing,” but she still experienced blistering and incredible soreness the first week, as well as painful engorgement. She sought help from a lactation consultant (LC), who helped her nursling latch by pulling gently on his lower lip to open his mouth wider. If he got it wrong, she would just take him off her nipple and try again. The LC said that he would figure out that with a wider latch he would get more milk. This appeared to be the case, because shortly thereafter, her nursling started fixing his lips himself to get that wide, fish-mouth latch.

Five months after My Little Milkaholic was born, in the throes of desperate loneliness and baby blues, I met Saint Monica (after the patron saint of mothers5) through a mommy group she’d started. She said, when her Peanut was born, they put him on her left breast and he sucked fiercely, but without a proper latch. She too was amazed at the new life she’d created, and didn’t notice the damage he was doing. Luckily, she quickly got some help. “In the hospital right away, they brought me a pump so I could gather my drops of colostrum, put it in tiny syringes and feed it to Peanut.  My husband would put it in the side of his mouth as Peanut was sucking at my breast. My husband’s other job was to help Peanut latch properly by pulling down his little jaw. It was so difficult to get little Peanut into position, but once we were set, everything seemed to be functioning.”

A saintly former professor of mine had her three nurslings at a freestanding birth center. After each birth, when she was comfortable in bed, the midwives helped her nurse. Some women who birth at a freestanding birth center go home four to six hours after having the baby if they have successfully nursed the baby. “The approach is very empowering and encouraging,” she said. New mommas get newborn care, lactation, and family support visits on day two, week one, and week six. The Professor’s last baby gained a pound in her first week of life. She said, “They not only have a really successful birthing model at Mountain Midwifery Center and other birth centers, but a really high rate of successful breastfeeding.” I have to admit hearing stories like hers makes me a bit jealous, but as the birthing centers in Colorado are not allowed to do vaginal breech births; I couldn’t have had My Little Milkaholic there, anyway.

New Zealand seems to do post-natal support right, too. A saint there said:

First of all, in New Zealand, when you are pregnant you can either decide to pay for an obstetrician (about $4,000 to $6,000 for all pre-, birth, and post-natal care), or you can get a midwife, which is one hundred percent paid for by the government. I think I was a bit naïve and thought it would all be good, so I just got a midwife. She was awesome though, a lovely woman from Yorkshire, and very medically trained. Once you have a midwife you are in the ‘system’ and they send you information about antenatal classes, which are in all areas of the country and free.

The same surgeon, who delivered his father by C-section in 1980, delivered Doozle Bug by C-section; New Zealand is small. They put him right on my boob, and he was happy enough. We took him back to the ward, but his blood sugar was low, so they put him NICU overnight. To be honest, this was fine by me, as I was able to focus on recovery.

For the next couple of days I focused on starting breastfeeding. Even though they gave Doozle Bug bits of formula without question (they will do this without fuss if a baby is in NICU), they wanted me to breastfeed when I could, and gave me a lactation consultant to help me.

I established breastfeeding a week after Doozle Bug was born, while we were still in the hospital. There is no way I would have been able to do this without a lactation consultant to watch, correct and give me tips, and the full support of being in the hospital. How they expect first-time mothers, whom they boot out of the hospital within hours of giving birth, and whom they give no further support to breastfeed, is very far beyond me!

Once we got home my midwife came to visit us two times per week for the first six weeks. I asked her a lot of questions and raised any issues I had. She also observed me feeding and gave me more tips and tricks. Once Doozle Bug was six weeks old, we were referred to a service here called Plunket. Infant-trained nurses visit you every couple of months to weigh your baby and check in to see how feeding is going and how you are doing. They also give you a lot of advice about how and when to introduce solids.

I am very lucky to live in New Zealand, and I know that breastfeeding would not have been as easy or maybe even possible if I had had Doozle Bug in the US, the UK, or even Australia (where support is not as good as in NZ). It is interesting how different and similar it is everywhere in the world. If I had a choice, I would have my next baby in Holland. There, you are given a live-in nurse for the first week you are home – and they do cleaning as well.

It is nice to hear about women who didn’t...