Category Archives: insufficient supply

Study says: Breastfeeding problems aren’t serious. And are probably your fault, anyway.

Posted on by
18

One of the most interesting interviews I did in my research for Bottled Up was with a physician who had studied breastfeeding-related neonatal hypernatremia (severe dehydration leading to electrolyte imbalance). We discussed the fact that these days, this condition is typically caught early and can be treated successfully. But the doctor also cautioned that while the prognosis wasn’t usually dire in terms of long-term health (thanks to modern medicine), we shouldn’t forget about the emotional and financial effects on the parents. He worried about a first time mom, trying to do the best for her child, who ends up seeing that baby hospitalized – sometimes for weeks- due to what she might perceive as her own failure to nourish him adequately.

I’ve been thinking about this interview since I read several articles yesterday, detailing a new study about the same condition. According to the Guardian (“Breastfeeding problems rarely lead to serious illness, study says“), a new paper on neonatal hypernatraemia found that “Very few babies become dehydrated and seriously ill because they are not getting enough milk from breastfeeding…Dr Sam Oddie and colleagues found only 62 cases from May 2009 to June 2010, a prevalence of seven in every 100,000 live births… the babies were admitted to hospital, mostly because of weight loss, and some were intravenously fed…However, all were discharged within two days to two weeks having gained weight and none had long-term damage.”

Seem like good news, right? Put on the Def Leopard, because we’re about to start headbanging.

Source: http://www.yaindie.com/2012/12/banging-your-head-against-wall-is-it.html

Banging-my-head-against-the-wall Problem #1: 

Okay. So, correct me if I’m wrong, but having a 2-week-old newborn in the hospital hooked up to an IV for a week or two isn’t considered serious? And as for long-term effects – these babies were born between 2009-2010. The study is not available online, so I don’t know what the details are in terms of how the researchers followed up with the subjects… but considering studies on breastfeeding and intelligence have tested kids at the age of 8, I think one could fairly say the jury is still out on this sample of 4 and 5-year-old kids. And how were they assessed in terms of long-term effects? Psychological? Emotional? Physical?

With all the focus on mother-child interaction in the first days, and the effect of fatty acids on brain development, the superiority of breastmilk in the first weeks… doesn’t it seem a little ironic that we’re so quick to dismiss a condition which a) separates parents from babies through NICU stays and b) starves/dehydrates a child in those same “fundamental” weeks?

I understand that we’re talking small numbers here – 7 in every 100, 000 is admittedly a reassuring statistic. But while we’re talking about that figure… what exactly does it mean?

Banging-my-head-against-the-wall Problem #2:

First, without access to the study, I can’t tell you if this statistic means 7 in 100,000 of ALL LIVE BIRTHS – meaning EBF, formula-fed and mixed-fed infants, inclusive. The UK has lower breastfeeding rates than many countries, so if this was the number of babies in all live births, it doesn’t mean anything substantial. What we need to know is the number of babies admitted who were exclusively breastfed before we can start making statements about breastfeeding, milk supply, and what needs to happen to avoid this risk.

Banging-my-head-against-the-wall Problem #3: 

Even if this study did look only at EBF babies, there are major limitations in what we can fairly assess from the data.  We can’t know how many women can adequately produce milk so that their babies aren’t at risk, because most people would supplement before it got to the point of hospitalization. What the researchers did discover is that the babies hospitalized could nearly all breastfeed successfully:

Almost every baby is capable of breastfeeding, Oddie said. “In only a few cases were there special features of the baby that made it likely that there would be a severe feeding problem. [One of the babies, for instance, was found to have a cleft palate.] Normally all babies can get established with breastfeeding with the right support.”

Again, I’m a little confused. If there were only a few cases of this condition, what exactly is a “few” of a few? Of the seven babies hospitalized in a group of 100,000, does that mean one of them had a “special feature” which created a feeding problem? Was it a statistically significant number?

Then, the Deputy Manager of UNICEF’s Baby Friendly Initiative weighed in:

Anne Woods, deputy programme manager for Unicef’s Baby Friendly Initiative (BFI)…said the number of babies who could not feed was negligible and only a very small percentage – about 1% – of women would struggle to make enough milk. “The numbers who breastfeed in this country do not reflect the numbers who could breastfeed if they had effective support,” she said.

Where there are problems, she added, “it fundamentally boils down to the fact that the baby is not attached to the breast effectively. The whole of the baby’s mouth has to make contact and draw the breast tissue into the mouth.”

But because we have a bottle-feeding culture in the UK, she said, some women do not realise this and “try to bottle-feed with their breast”, so the baby takes only the nipple and does not get enough milk.

The other problem is when babies do not feed often enough. After a difficult labour or pain relief, the baby may be sleepy. There is also an expectation she said, that a baby will feed and then sleep.

Ah, right. It’s the mom’s fault. Who cares that this study proves – hell, even suggests – nothing about the true incidence of physiological lactation failure. The researchers are talking about the baby’s ability to feed, not the mother’s ability to produce milk. That doesn’t stop Anne Woods from hurling the 1% (the lowest number bandied about regarding lactation failure, by the way – she could’ve at least given us a break and used the higher end of the oft-cited 1-5% assumption figure) statistic at moms who’re already feeling like failures for landing their babies in the hospital. And of course, the mom probably can’t be bothered to feed as frequently as needed – not that it’s entirely her fault, since the formula companies have convinced her that her breast is actually…wait for it… a bottle!

Banging-my-head-against-the-wall Problem #4: 

I know, I’m being snarky. And I do appreciate that the lead researcher of this study, Sam Oddie, emphasized the need for better breastfeeding management and support. I’m fully on board with that. But I’m also concerned about what Dr. Oddie was saying back in 2009, when he embarked on his study:

Dr Sam Oddie, a consultant in the neonatal unit at Bradford Royal Infirmary, who is leading the study, said: ‘Once we understand the scale of the problem we can work out what to do about it – how to spot it, and how to act on it. But as far as I’m concerned the answer isn’t more formula feeding, but increased support for breastfeeding from the outset in the form of counsellors.” (Marie Claire, 2009).

I don’t disagree with him, necessarily, but going in to a study on hypernatraemia with a strong desire to avoid formula supplementation – even if that ended up being the best course of treatment – implies a certain degree of bias.

One could argue that there’s no harm in a study like this making the news; it will bring attention to those experiencing early breastfeeding problems and perhaps make medical professionals take them more seriously. But as we’ve seen so many times, these studies have a way of creeping into the breastfeeding canon and being misused as “truth” to back up future claims. I can already see Dr. Oddie’s quotes as being taken out of context, being used as “proof” that “all babies can breastfeed” and that the risk of inadequate feeding isn’t all that serious (so there’s never a need to supplement, even if your formula-pushing pediatrician tells you that there is).

Still think I’m overreacting? Here are the headlines from the other two major news sources covering the study:

Most mothers who struggle to breastfeed WILL be providing enough milk for their babies, say experts (The Daily Mail)

Dehydration risks from breastfeeding are ‘negligible’, study finds (The Telegraph)

Would you like me to move over and make a little space for you on the wall? Come on over. Bring some Metallica, and wear a helmet.

 

Read more about neonatal hypernatraemia:

http://fn.bmj.com/content/87/3/F158.full http://pediatrics.aappublications.org/content/116/3/e343.full

 

 

FFF Friday: “Formula felt like failure.”

Posted on by
7

Welcome to Fearless Formula Feeder Fridays, a weekly guest post feature that strives to build a supportive community of parents united through our common experiences, open minds, and frustration with the breast-vs-bottle bullying and bullcrap.

Please note, these stories are for the most part unedited, and do not necessarily represent the FFF’s opinions. They also are not political statements – this is an arena for people to share their thoughts and feelings, and I hope we can all give them the space to do so.

I saw the most awesome tweet today, from a Canadian physician named Dr. Daniel Flanders. “Want to improve #breastfeeding rates without guilting moms who choose not to breast feed?” he asked. “Think ‘SUPPORT’ not ‘PROMOTE’”.

I don’t know this guy from Adam, but I wish I could buy him a pony out of gratitude. (Provided he wants a pony, of course. They might be kind of messy and expensive to feed.) There is a marked difference between promotion and support, and this is the fundamental problem in how breastfeeding is being handled in today’s society. Laurie, whose story is below, could have been spared a lot of grief and bother – and may have had a better breastfeeding experience all around – had there been care providers around her armed with better research and skills.  When we focus so much on raising breastfeeding rates, rather than on fixing the common and (not actually so) rare problems which can impede or destroy a mother’s attempts to do what she feels is best for her baby – well, we’re the failures, not the moms. 

There is no reason women like Laurie should be left feeling guilty, and yet they do. Not that I advocate guilt, but honestly? If anyone should be feeling ashamed, it’s those championing a system which put zealotry above real research, and statistics above individual experiences. 

Support, not advocacy. Wise words.

Happy Friday, fearless ones…

The FFF

Laurie’s Story

I was determined to nurse my first child.  I had no desire for an unmedicated childbirth, but I was all for breastfeeding.  Best-laid plans…after a very long labor in which my epidural failed miserably, I got to the pushing stage and then, before I knew what was happening, my baby’s heart rate had dropped dangerously, and I was going into shock and being rushed into an emergency C-section.  It was such an emergency, in fact, that they hadn’t even finished putting me under before they started cutting. Turns out, I had a uterine rupture.  After a few very scary hours (for my family, not for me — I was unconscious!), it seemed certain that I would pull through.  And, thankfully, my son was just fine.

So…Evan was perfect, but I was not. In fact, before long, the breastfeeding thing really had me discouraged. In my breastfeeding class, we were told that holding your baby skin-to-skin within the first two hours of birth would increase your likelihood of breastfeeding success by 80%. Well, guess what? I was unconscious the first several hours after his birth and didn’t even get to see him until 6 hours later, so that didn’t happen.

When we did try nursing, it did not go well. Evan seemed to latch on but then would get frustrated and scream. The lactation consultant at the hospital was not very encouraging. Leaving aside her pronouncement on my shortcomings (inverted nipples, if you care to know), she informed me that Evan’s mouth was too small to keep a latch and as he got older and bigger he might be able to nurse, but in the meantime I should just pump.  A few weeks later, the pediatrician diagnosed tongue-tie, and we got that fixed, but things were no better.  Every time I tried to nurse, Evan just screamed.  I originally tried to follow the La Leche leader’s advice and feed him only with a medicine dropper so that he wouldn’t get nipple confusion, but do you know how long it takes to feed a baby even two ounces with a medicine dropper? By the time I finished, it would be time for the next feeding!

But pump I did, with the hospital-grade pump I rented, every 3 hours around the clock. At most I was getting 2 oz. at every pumping, and Evan soon needed at least 24 oz. a day, so, if you do the math, you will see that I had to supplement with formula. I tried to boost my production by taking a zillion herbs, eating oatmeal, drinking lots of water, even drinking beer, but nothing seemed to help. My doctor called in a prescription for Reglan for me, and I was told that if I followed the dosing schedule, my production should double within 5 days. Alas, I am allergic to Reglan. I took my first dose and woke up with a red, itchy rash all over my neck and chest.

I threw in the towel at 6 weeks. Formula felt like failure. I know lots of people were given formula and turned into healthy, contributing citizens (I’m one of them, actually!), but I also knew (perhaps you’ve heard?) that breast milk is best. So, even though Evan is a now very healthy toddler who has only had a handful of colds and one ear infection in his life, I held out hope that things would go better with my next child, at least on the breastfeeding front.

Unfortunately, I had another rocky start with my second son — he was born at 30 weeks, so I didn’t even get to try to nurse until he was 4 weeks old.  It was just me and that darn pump again.  Once I was able to try, though, I found that Ben latched immediately and was a very good nurser. While he was in the NICU I got to nurse him once every day when I visited, and he was getting bottles of my pumped milk.  At first my supply seemed pretty good, but it never increased to more than 2.5 oz per pumping session.  I tried nursing him around the clock  when he came home, then supplementing with what I pumped, but he was losing weight because he had to work so hard to get very little. The NICU LC was the first one to tell me that my problem is not low supply, it’s the fact that my nipples are so inverted that I have an exit problem. (Apparently, this only happens “in very rare cases.”)  The milk is not able to exit, which signals my body to stop making so much milk, which means that even though I was pumping religiously, the amount I was able to pump kept dropping.  A lightbulb went on when I got this diagnosis — that’s why with Evan I kept getting plugged ducts even though I thought I had a supply problem.  I was sending my body mixed messages.

My preemie is 21 weeks old now, a whopping 12 lbs., and I bid the pump adieu more than two months ago. I am not beating myself up about it this time around, but I am sad that my problem wasn’t detected before; apparently I could have had surgery to correct it in between pregnancies, but it’s too late now.  I am glad that my preemie was fed breast milk exclusively for the first 7 weeks of his life — at least he got all those touted immunities when he was most vulnerable. But now when someone asks if I’m breastfeeding (and people do, even mere acquaintances who really don’t have any business asking about the functioning of my breasts), I can just say, “No” and not feel the need to go into the whole sordid story so that they know it’s NOT MY FAULT.  Having gained a little perspective after my first child, I now know that the time when my babies are getting only liquid nutrition is fairly short in the grand scheme of things, and my breastfeeding “failure” was only the first of many, many opportunities for mommy guilt.

***

Share your story for an upcoming FFF Friday: email me at formulafeeders@gmail.com. 

 

FFF Friday: “All of our decisions were made with an eye towards ensuring breastfeeding success.”

Posted on by
16

Welcome to Fearless Formula Feeder Fridays, a weekly guest post feature that strives to build a supportive community of parents united through our common experiences, open minds, and frustration with the breast-vs-bottle bullying and bullcrap.

Please note, these stories are for the most part unedited, and do not necessarily represent the FFF’s opinions. They also are not political statements – this is an arena for people to share their thoughts and feelings, and I hope we can all give them the space to do so.

Of all the misconceptions and untruths running rampant in the parenting community regarding breastfeeding, one bothers me more than any other. It’s the “you just didn’t try hard enough” sentiment, often heard alongside it’s ugly stepsister, “Nearly everyone can breastfeed if they just are willing to put in the work.” 

My analysis of these insulting adages? They usually come from a) people who have never breastfed themselves, b) women who had some minor breastfeeding issues and were able to work through them or c) women who breastfed effortlessly. When I encounter such attitudes, I always feel like screaming the immortal words of MTV’s Diary- you think you know, but you have NO idea.

Amanda’s story gives us yet another example of an intelligent, educated, dedicated breastfeeder who ended up turning to formula. She did everything right, and was still made to feel as if she did something fundamentally wrong. What’s even more ridiculous is that Amanda is still pumping (at least as of her submission date to FFF), trying her damndest to give her baby the “best”, and yet it’s still not considered breastfeeding “success.”

Well, that buck stops here, folks. Let’s take back the word “best”. Best is subjective. Best means your personal best; how best is defined for your family; what is best for your particular child. Your “best” is…well….best. (FFF Desiree Johnson came up with that one a few weeks ago on the Facebook page, and I think it’s pretty spot-on. )

I’ll be back with my own posts next week… focusing on the book promotion crap at the moment, but I don’t want it to be at the expense of the blog…so I promise to kick my butt in gear soon.

Happy Friday, fearless ones…

The FFF

***

Amanda’s Story

From the moment my wife and I decided to start trying to conceive, I just knew I would breastfeed.  First, we generally fall on the attachment-parenting-hippie-crunchy end of the parenting spectrum, and breastfeeding seemed like a natural fit with that.  Second, we live in a community where breastfeeding is very common, and breastfeeding support is truly first rate. Third, we are frugal people…throughout my pregnancy, we referred to my breasts as “the best coupons ever”.  I honestly never considered any other options.

I have PCOS (we’ll call that “warning sign #1”) so we guessed that getting pregnant would be a bit of a challenge for me, but 12 days after our very first IUI we got our positive pregnancy test. I was still hesitant to relax – my progesterone was low (warning #2), and miscarriage rates are incredibly high in women with PCOS.  When the first trimester ended, I breathed a gigantic sigh of relief…I’d overcome my big PCOS hurdle, or so I thought!  My pregnancy was mostly uneventful – a bit of nausea once or twice, some body aches, but nothing to write home about.

All of our major decisions were made with an eye toward ensuring BF success.  I chose my OB/midwife practice because they delivered at a birth center inside a Baby-Friendly hospital, and we hired an amazing doula so we could stay home as long as possible, because I was determined to avoid epidurals or a C-section.  The pediatrician we chose is married to an IBCLC and is incredibly pro-BF.  We took our childbirth classes and breastfeeding classes, and I read just about every major pro-breastfeeding, pro-unmedicated-childbirth book that I could lay my hands on.  I told my wife I wanted to donate all of our formula samples before the baby arrived –I wouldn’t need them, after all, and research showed that if I even had them in the house, I’d be jeopardizing my BF chances (she, wisely, said “Well, let’s keep them, just in case”).  I had my breastfeeding pillows, lanolin, breast pads, and a pump all ready to go, along with multiple boxes of milk storage bags for my soon-to-be-overflowing freezer supply. Meanwhile, my breasts had gotten a bit fuller, but not nearly as much as I’d expected(warning sign #3).

After 5 days of prodromal labor, things picked up in earnest.  We had an active labor at home.  I ended up arriving at the hospital at 9.5 cm, and they just managed to get the tub filled when he was ready to be born.  His birth got a little hairy – first the cord was around his neck, then his shoulders were stuck for about a minute and a half and he was born “stunned”, so had to be taken immediately to the warmer (he was just fine, we were both just a bit worn out from the ordeal). Then, probably because of the 5 days of prodroming, I hemorrhaged (warning sign #4).  My 8 lb, 4 oz son was put to my breast and immediately latched on, which was great, because it helped to control the bleeding.

All of the nurses at the hospital had lactation training, and they all commented on what naturals we were.  My doula said that I had “perfect” nipples for breastfeeding, and the IBCLC told me that our latch was great.  I kept waiting for painful fullness (that’s #5), but eventually we ate the cabbage that I’d bought anticipating engorgement…it just never materialized.  Our son fed CONSTANTLY, but didn’t appear to be dirtying diapers nearly as much as was expected (#6). The advice nurse told us that as long as he was wetting diapers, we were still fine. At our first post-discharge appointment, the baby had lost 7 ounces, but the doctor said he wouldn’t worry unless he was still losing at the two week appointment.  Nevertheless, he continued to poop less than expected, nurse for hours on end, and be hard to rouse for and during feedings (#7) – we resorted to rubbing him with cold washcloths, to try to keep him sucking for more than a minute or two at a time.

At his two-week appointment, he had lost 5 more ounces, and the pediatrician was officially concerned.  He suggested that I buy a Supplemental Nursing System to give him a little formula until we got my supply up, and asked us to come in for a re-weigh in 3 days.  I cried my eyes out all the way to the specialty mom and baby store, cried in the car while I made my wife go in to buy a short-term SNS and an expensive herbal tincture to increase production, cried on the ride home, cried while I mixed up the formula, and cried while I struggled to tape on the SNS.  My son ate like he was starving (which, you know, he was) and then fell fast asleep while I called the pediatrian’s  IBCLC wife.  She gave us a ton of suggestions on increasing supply, all of which I followed – water, hours of skin-to-skin, using the SNS, pumping every two hours or after every feed, whichever was more frequent, enough Fenugreek that I smelled constantly of maple curry, Goat’s Rue, and a prescription of domperidone at a dose that cost us roughly $5 a day.  With that, he was still drinking about 20 ounces a day of formula, so we think I was producing maybe 5 ounces total per day.

With the formula supplements, he started gaining right away, and became a totally different, much more alert, much happier baby.  I, however, was becoming exhausted and depressed.  We were completely tied to the house – even if I could somehow bring the pump, SNS, tape, and formula out with me, I was so mortified to be “failing” at breastfeeding that I refused to feed him in public, or even in my living room if anyone was there other than my wife. I began to dread the sound of him waking up, knowing that each time he cried from hunger, it would start an hour plus session of feeding, pumping, and washing all of the bottles and pump parts. He was super-alert and playful right after his feedings, but of course I missed all that, having handed him off to my wife to hold and play with while I pumped.  9 times of 10, he was asleep again before I was done.  I found myself yelling at him and getting angry and frustrated when he’d spit out the tube in the middle of the night, knowing it was going to be a battle to get him re-latched onto the finicky, leaky SNS.

And then there were the judgments. I posted on a few message boards about my troubles, and got a whole lot of “well, you gave into the pressure to give him formula, so his gut bacteria are already ruined, and it’s no wonder your supply tanked after you supplemented” and “before formula existed, people found a way, so there’s no reason you can’t make it work if you want to”.  Once, a woman who spotted my can of formula in my shopping cart told me that she “just feels so bad for children whose parents are too lazy to feed them properly.”

We slowly accepted that this was not going to be quickly resolved and bought a new, permanent SNS. I resigned myself to rashes on my breasts from taping on the tubes, cracked nipples from the pump, and allowing my wife all of the bonding time with my son, still convinced that my supply would increase and we’d eventually be able to have a “normal” nursing relationship.  Several times, I put him to my breast, only to have him scream and cry when almost nothing came out…which of course made me cry more.  I kept trying, convinced that if I just did everything right, things would all work out. At my 4 week follow-up with my midwife, I cried when I saw the “It’s Easy to Make Plenty of Milk” poster hanging in her office, and felt the need to explain to her all of the things I had tried, afraid she was going to judge me for my failings (she didn’t, and was awesome, as were the lactation consultants.  All of the medical professionals in my life were much kinder to me than I was).

With all of this, after 4 more weeks, my production was up to maybe 12 ounces a day.  One night, in a haze of exhaustion, I accidentally put part of the SNS down the garbage disposal.  My wife exploded about how much my breastfeeding failure was costing us in supplements, Canadian drugs, formula, and expensive nursing systems, I cried for 2 hours, and we eventually decided that paying another $70 to replace it just didn’t make sense.  I resigned myself to pumping and giving my son whatever I could make.

Funnily enough, once we dropped the SNS and I let myself accept that I wasn’t going to ever breastfeed him as I’d imagined, my supply jumped (I think the stress of the whole SNS/pump/wash cycle, combined with the worry over whether my supply was increasing or decreasing, playing a big role).  We got a car adapter for the pump so we could leave the house, I started timing my pumping so that I could spend time with the baby while he was awake and alert, and I started to really enjoy feeding times, where all I had to do was focus on him, instead of on whether the SNS was leaking, whether the tube was in his mouth right, or how long it would be before I could be done feeding and pumping, because I only had 2 hours before I had to be up for work.    And I slowly started “coming out” as a partial formula feeder, talking about my experience with a few other new moms, always starting with a long diatribe of all of the things I’d tried to make feeding work.

I still combination-feed my son, who is now 3 months old, with about half of his diet coming from formula, and the other half coming from what I pump.  I work from home, so I am able to pump whenever necessary, and for another, my wife is staying home with our son, so I have extra hands to help me with feedings that take longer than normal…otherwise, I have no illusions about whether we’d be able to continue this way.  For us, this is what works best.  But I am still working through my phobia of giving him bottles in public.  Today, I gave him a bottle in the middle of our Farmer’s Market…baby steps!  I am so incredibly grateful to FFF and other websites providing support for women who are feeding formula, wholly or partially – I truly believe that this site was a big part of me regaining my sanity around feeding my son.

***

Tell the world why your best was best. Send me your story for an upcoming FFF Friday – formulafeeders@gmail.com.

FFF Friday: “I’m thanking the formula companies for nourishing him when I couldn’t.”

Posted on by
9

Welcome to Fearless Formula Feeder Fridays, a weekly guest post feature that strives to build a supportive community of parents united through our common experiences, open minds, and frustration with the breast-vs-bottle bullying and bullcrap.

Please note, these stories are for the most part unedited, and do not necessarily represent the FFF’s opinions. They also are not political statements – this is an arena for people to share their thoughts, and I hope we can all give them the space to do so.

This week’s FFF Friday guest post comes from Lindsay, who blogs over at You Are The Roots. When I chose the title for her post, I worried for a minute that it would come off like pandering to the formula industry, and I knew that was not at all Lindsay’s intent. But then I decided to go ahead with it, because I join her in wanting to give thanks. I may not be comfortable with the way formula companies always promote their products, but I also have a lot of gratitude in my heart for the products themselves. When my milk was making my child sick, they gave me an option. And in Lindsay’s case, they gave her the gift of being able to feed her child when her body wasn’t able to to. I think about it like this: I really dislike how antidepressants are marketed, because those tv commercials make it sound like anyone who is having a shitty day should be medicated. But the drugs themselves? They can be lifesaving to those who truly need them. Bad marketing tactics do not necessarily mean a product is inherently bad- and this concept seems to be widely accepted as truth except in the case of formula. 

Happy Friday, fearless ones,

The FFF

*** 

Lindsay’s Story

I’m a planner. Scratch that. I’m a control freak. I am terrified of the word ‘spontaneity’ and am pretty sure it causes me physical harm to have it enter my life. When I was put on bedrest during my pregnancy, it gave me ample time to make blueprints and life plans and map out what we needed and when we’d do things and how things would be and when my baby would sleep and what dinners we’d be eating and – well, there was no stone unturned. Such a militantly planned life doesn’t always go hand in hand with severe preeclampsia and many weekly appointments with specialists who consult with your doctor and tell you at the end of that appointment if your baby gets to continue to bake or you’ll have to make the hospital your next stop. There was a lot of unknown in my life at an already trying time – my first pregnancy – and I wasn’t handling it well. I think I reminded myself to mind my blood pressure at least twenty times a day, trying to turn my mind off and stop letting it wander with thoughts of all that randomness unable to be put on a to-do list to be planned and properly executed.

The one thing I knew – even if I didn’t know how many weeks I’d be when I delivered or if my baby would require the NICU or anything else that I thought I knew but no longer did – was that I was going to be a breastfeeding mother. I am guilty of being that mom who rolled my eyes at mothers mixing formula in the mall, on television, at the grocery store. All I knew was that babies were supposed to be nursed because that’s just what is supposed to happen – I mean, that’s why women produce milk, after all – and it made me so angry that some people tried to sidestep their responsibility as a mother to do the best thing for their babies. My hospital bags were packed and toted around with us from doctor visit to doctor visit, containing tons of nursing nightgowns, nursing bras, breast balms and creams and milk teas. I circled on all of my hospital paperwork that I planned on breastfeeding, underlined these words and highlighted them, daring anyone to bring a bottle near the mouth of my baby.

And then, you know, I got the last laugh. My son was to be born at 36 weeks, unexpectedly, because my body just couldn’t do pregnancy anymore. He came, my blood pressure couldn’t be regulated, I was on all types of anti-seizure drugs that render me unable to remember more than 2% of my son’s first two weeks of life. To this day, my husband will laugh and say “remember when…” and I try to mask how distraught I am that, no, I don’t remember. I remember worrying that I would die and never get to hold him and I remember falling to pieces at my 8 week check-up that I didn’t produce any milk. How could I be a mother? How could I be a woman? I wasn’t. I wasn’t worth being called either because my body had failed me again. The doctors, the nurses, the lactation consultants explained to me with all the patience and love and sympathy in the world that it was the medications, that I had to be administered these medications so that I could be here and be the mother to my son that they knew I could be, but their words fell on deaf ears. I wasn’t a woman, I wasn’t a mother, my body had failed me again, I couldn’t do anything right and my son was going to fall into that pile of obese, stupid formula fed kids I kept reading about on the internet.

Fast forward to a year later. My son didn’t fall into that pile. Mostly because that pile doesn’t exist. My son is healthy, intelligent, a wonderful eater, maybe not the best sleeper, meeting his milestones and existing as the happy, magnificent, beautiful boy that he is. And me? I’m thanking the formula companies for nourishing him when I couldn’t. Not that it was an easy road to get here to this place of solace and confidence. It wasn’t. I lived through a mother commenting on my formula-mixing, noting that it was “poison” I was feeding my child. I lived through people giving me sympathy as if I left the hospital without a child, without some limbs, as if I was fighting for my life. I lived through it all and, really, I learned. I learned that how or what you feed your child is simply a choice. I learned that the children who are starving, who are physically abused, who are sleeping on the streets and who don’t know what it means to be loved – they are the ones who need our sympathy, our compassion, our charity.

Mostly, I learned the only thing I regret are those days I wasted crying and hating myself instead of realizing how beautiful life was, and how beautiful my son was, and how lucky I was to have him here, so healthy, so happy.  I regret the time I spent thinking that I was doomed, that my son was doomed, that my family and reputation and life was doomed.

Because if you have to formula feed or if you choose to formula feed, you are not doomed. Your life, your child, your family, your reputation – none of these things are doomed. I get to kiss my son’s beautiful face when he wakes up each morning and throws his arms out towards me, yelling “mama! Mama! Mama!”, and then I sit back and wonder what I ever worried about. I have everything in the world and my everything? He has me.

***

Join the party- you know you want to. Send me your story: formulafeeders@gmail.com

 

FFF Friday: “It takes more than breastmilk to make a good mother…”

Posted on by
12
Welcome to Fearless Formula Feeder Fridays, a weekly guest post feature that strives to build a supportive community of parents united through our common experiences, open minds, and frustration with the breast-vs-bottle bullying and bullcrap.

Please note, these stories are for the most part unedited, and do not necessarily represent the FFF’s opinions. They also are not political statements – this is an arena for people to share their thoughts, and I hope we can all give them the space to do so.


FFF Sarah, whose story is below, makes a really interesting observation about how perfectionism and the concept of “failure” play into our breastfeeding experiences. I know we’ve talked this issue to death, but I think it’s worth continuing the conversation. For many of us who come to motherhood later in life, the loss of control over our lives can be intensely disconcerting. Control is so intimately tied to a myriad of mental health issues – eating disorders, OCD, depression – and parenting, in general, requires a certain degree of surrender, emotionally. So when your physical self decides to punk out, it can rock an already unsteady boat. As Sarah discovered, sometimes you need to adjust your plans to keep that boat from capsizing.

And as always, let me reiterate: I realize that (an embarrassingly small amount of) research suggests that only 2-5% of women are physically incapable of providing sufficient milk for their babies. 2-5% still means a significant amount of women. These voices are not some snidely stated statistic. Sarah is one of these voices. Listen up.

Happy Friday, fearless ones,

The FFF
***

Sarah’s Story

My struggle with breastfeeding (and subsequent formula feeding) is different from the ones I’ve read here on FFF, and yet it’s exactly the same. Like many others, I planned on breastfeeding my child. I took the breastfeeding class offered by my hospital, I read the books written by LLL and the AAP, I lurked on the breastfeeding forums so that I would know what kinds of struggles I might face and how to overcome them. I knew it would be hard, I was up to the challenge and I felt fully prepared for anything that would come my way.
Fully prepared, except for what DID happen. We had no latch problems, no nipple pain – breastfeeding was a wonderful experience and I loved every second of it. For 3 1/2 weeks, I thought everything was going great. I thought the reason we were camped out on the couch all day long was due to the cluster feedings I’d read so much about – it didn’t occur to me that he was always nursing because I wasn’t making enough and he was hungry. I was a new mom, so I didn’t know what to expect my breasts to feel like; in retrospect, I never felt engorged, they never felt firm, they never leaked – those were big clues that my milk wasn’t in and I wasn’t producing properly. But after an amazingly easy pregnancy and L&D (seriously – 6 hours of labor, no drugs, 3 pushes, and my 9lb 4oz son came out with no tearing and without breaking a sweat) I figured my luck was just continuing. How great was it that I didn’t have to deal with leaking and engorgement? Yay for me! Finally at 3 1/2 weeks old, I used my bathroom scale to weigh him, and found out he was actually losing weight – cue the mommy guilt and crying.
Right away we went to the LCs. We did a weigh-feed-weigh, and found he was only getting about half an ounce total from both sides. They said he was a lazy/sleepy eater, and told me to start a routine of nurse-supplement-pump. They told me if I couldn’t pump enough for the next feeding to supplement with formula. They even gave me an RTF bottle right then to top him off! All of the LCs I saw at my hospital (we went back several times) were absolute saints, and so different from the ones many of you have dealt with. They were so supportive and knowledgeable, but not pushy or anti-formula. I love them. However, no amount of pumping, fenugreek, blessed thistle, oatmeal, etc could get my meager supply up enough to support my son. I think the main issue all along was not that he was a lazy/sleepy eater, but that my milk just didn’t come in and that I don’t have a milk ejection reflex at all – it would take 40 minutes of double pumping (with very aggressive massage/compression) to get an ounce of milk. Total. I don’t blame him for giving up and sleeping! I was producing about half of what my very hungry son needed – the day he eat 37 ounces, I felt so defeated. As many of you here on FFF know, the process of nurse-supplement-pump takes an incredible amount of time, so I decided to just pump and bottlefeed until my supply was up enough to EBF.
After 2 solid weeks of taking herbs and pumping 13 times a day (yes, THIRTEEN), 40 minutes at a time, my supply was up by 3 ounces a day. Not much to write home about, not even enough for a whole bottle. Bonus, it had destroyed my nipples. They hurt SO BAD, all the time, since they weren’t really getting a break between pumpings. I was also getting frequent clogged ducts and clogged nipple pores. The pain was excruciating – worse than labor pains, in my opinion. Of course, my clogged ducts eventually developed into mastitis. You can guess what happened to my supply. A hospital-grade pump was no better at removing milk, nor at increasing my supply. Finally, my mom (who breastfed me and each of my siblings until she had to go back to work) asked me, “How long are you going to keep doing this to yourself?” That made me step back and realize the insanity of what I was doing – the constant pumping, the pain of the clogged ducts and destroyed nipples, not to mention the fact that my son basically just sat in his swing all day long while I pumped.
After a few more days of “I will succeed at breastfeeding!” stubbornness, I finally admitted to myself that I was never going to make enough milk for him, and it was better for my son to have a sane, engaged mother than a few ounces of breastmilk a day – no matter how magical the lactivists made it out to be. My supply was so low that I just quit cold turkey – I had only one day of discomfort and was totally dried up in 48 hours. I never leaked a single drop.
Even though my son is doing great on formula (he was a completely different baby once he started getting enough food), I mourned the loss of our breastfeeding experience. It had been so wonderful, and it was hard to let that go. I had never failed at anything before in my life, and it was hard to accept that this was beyond my control. No amount of education, LC support, or willpower could change the fact that I just didn’t make milk. I had no idea that that was a possibility and I never saw it coming. I am hoping and praying that I don’t have an underlying problem like IGT and that I will be able to breastfeed my next child. Even if I am unable, I know I am no less of a mother because of this. It takes more than sperm to make a good father, and more than breastmilk to make a good mother.
***
Share your story for an upcoming FFF Friday. E-mail me at formulafeeders@gmail.com.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...