Going into this birthing thing, my biggest fear (other than hemorrhoids, lol) was breastfeeding.
I really wanted to breastfeed. Not only because of the immense nutritional benefits to Lana, but for the bonding experience.
The closer we came to delivery, the more fixated I became on it. I stressed and worried about whether it would happen. I prepared for success gathering supplies such as nursing gowns, my breast friend, and a breast pump. But the supplies couldn't guarantee anything, and there was no way to know until the time came.
I knew it would be an uphill battle. First of all, I had breast reduction surgery about 11 years ago. At the time, breastfeeding was not really on my radar, I just wanted my damn back to stop hurting. It's about a 50/50 chance of successfully breastfeeding after such a surgery. Then, there is my PCOS and gestational diabetes. Both are known to be associated with insufficient milk supply. Under the totality of circumstances (my nerdy-attorney bone shows sometimes), it wasn't looking good.
As such, I really tried to prepare myself for the likelihood that it might not happen. I kept telling myself that it wasn't the end of the world. That as long as Lana was healthy and happy, that is all that mattered. This is true. But just because its true, doesn't mean my heart listened.
So, within an hour of Lana's birth I began my quest to make it happen. To my delight, Lana had absolutely no problems latching. She had quite obviously been suckling on her fingers and thumbs in the womb, and was raring to go. It just remained to be seen whether I would be able to do my part.
I started pumping immediately to try and stimulate production, and was a disheartened when nothing was coming out. I pumped a few times overnight and also attempted to breastfeed her. It was doubly frustrating because I had no idea if this was helping me produce, or if Lana was getting anything out of it. I just had to have faith.
The lactation consultant came by early the next morning after Lana's birth. I must say, the experience of childbirth destroys any lingering notions of modesty, which is helpful when trying to breastfeed. Most of your time is spent with your boob hanging out for all to see while a stranger pinches and pulls on your nipples.
The consultant was doing just that when all at once something started coming out. It was colostrum...and I immediately began crying. It was such an unexpected sight and I was so excited. I thought, "This is really going to happen!" I thought I had conquered it. I was wrong.
I continued working with the lactation consultant, but both of us became concerned when Lana quit latching. And when I say she quit latching, I mean she quit even trying. It was clear she was getting frustrated with doing all the work for nothing. So, we made the joint decision late day 2 to give her a bit of formula. I was still pumping every 2 hours and getting nothing but condensation, so we were pretty certain she was not getting anything either. The plan was for me to keep pumping, but to feed Lana with formula until we could get something going.
I tried to remain optimistic and not let it bother me. And, for the most part, I did. I was able to handle feeding her from a bottle even though I wanted to be breastfeeding so badly. I was able to handle the pumping, pumping, pumping with seemingly no payoff. But there was one thing that I couldn't handle. This is the thing that instantly brought tears to my eyes and many times left me sobbing. This is the thing that to this day makes me tear up...
When Lana is hungry and starts rooting around on my chest, I swear, the disappointment and sadness sinks straight to my bones. I feel like a failure. I feel like a bad mom. There is something so devastating about not being able to give your child what he/she wants or needs. It is enough to kill any feelings of joy or happiness in the moment. I hate it.
After leaving the hospital, I went back to see the lactation consultant on an outpatient basis. I continued pumping for a week and a half after her birth. On a Tuesday I had milk. Not alot of milk, an ounce from both breasts after pumping for an hour, but it was milk! But by Wednesday morning, it was gone. I knew it was gone. My breasts had let down, the soreness had disappeared overnight, and even the condensation had disappeared during pumping. Deep down I knew it was over. But, I kept pumping just in case.
After a few more days, it became evident that I was right. It was gone. It was over.
So, I finally gave up. It was heart-wrenching and the thought of it makes me cry as I write this. Admittedly, I think much of my fixation with breastfeeding was selfish. I think my failure at breastfeeding brought back all the insecurities I felt while trying to conceive. The feeling of being less than and not enough. The inferiority. The self-blame and hate. It crept back in and took residence within me as if it had never left. Maybe it never really did.
I have had a couple weeks to come to terms now. Lana is healthy and growing like a weed, and she certainly doesn't seem to mind. And at the end of the day, this is all that really matters.
But, I still tear up when she roots on my chest. I don't know if that will ever go away. I'm just thankful I can quickly whip up a bottle and hold her close while I do the next best thing <3
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