Postpartum: The not-so-fun part about having a baby.
The first few days (or weeks) of having a newborn are pretty much a blur, as one could imagine. For those who deliver in the hospital, you probably didn't get a wink of sleep those first 48-72 hours. Between the visits for both you and the baby, nurses and doctors come into the room just about every hour it seems. Then add on the newfound stress of responsibility for another living being - I know I spent a lot of my time just staring at him, making sure he was still breathing. But one comforting thing about those first 2-3 days is knowing that a handful of people are there to help you figure out how to do the whole new-mom thing. For some it comes easy, but for others it can be quite difficult. The real culprit behind the struggle? Breastfeeding.
When I was pregnant, almost everyone would ask me if I was planning on breastfeeding. And of course my answer was always yes, without hesitation. Having worked with premature infants in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) as a music therapist, I knew all about the benefits of breastmilk for an infant's development and immune system. It was a given that I would be breastfeeding my baby. What I didn't anticipate was having physical issues doing so, and boy was it defeating.
From the moment baby Benjamin was born, he was a natural at feeding. He latched immediately and luckily I'd already been lactating weeks prior to delivering (I blame my forever-imbalanced hormones) so his first successful feeding took place within his first few minutes of life. That's fantastic, right? Unfortunately, it didn't last.
After the first few feedings, I started noticing my breasts hurting immensely every time my baby would attempt to feed. Focusing on his latch, it looked like he was latched correctly and I could hear him swallowing. I had nurses come in to observe, even lactation specialists - they all told me he was doing it right. It also didn't help that my little one would favor one over the other, constantly attempting the same breast each time. My breasts began to ache, and I started noticing what felt like a knot on my left breast. It'd gotten to the point where I would dread feeding my baby - and this was all within the first few days of his life.
I was so frustrated; all I wanted to do was feed my child. Why was that so difficult? I had this plan to be the best mother I could be, and in less than 24 hours of him being alive I felt like I was already failing him. While my fiancé was sleeping, I'd sit in my bed and silently weep for hours. And I mean hours. To the point where nurses would come in to check on me and I'd have to apologize for being a mess, telling them to just "blame it on the hormones". I felt if I couldn't breastfeed my baby, that I would be a terrible mother. How crazy is that?
On top of being in pain while breastfeeding, I was worried that my baby wasn't getting enough milk and that I was starving him. He had barely pooped or peed the entire time we were in the hospital, and the nurses told me that if he didn't void x amount of times that my baby wouldn't be able to leave the hospital. So on top of already feeling like I was a bad mother, I now was worried that I'd be going home without my beautiful baby boy. Cue even more tears.
Note: Because of the current pandemic, I hadn't attended any birthing/breastfeeding/etc classes. I didn't know any tips and tricks, what to do or when to do it, & honestly felt pretty clueless as a new mother.
My poor fiancé was trying to be as supportive as possible, but I could tell he was just as concerned as I was about me being able to feed our little one. We'd never really discussed the possibility of having to use formula, or even me going straight to pumping - so this was all uncharted territory for us. But alas here we were. So on the very first night of my son being alive, I decided I was going to start pumping.
For those of you who don't know, pumping is actually pretty easy. It isn't at all painful (or it shouldn't be) and babies actually prefer bottle nipples over the breast anyway, so my champion eater had no issues transitioning. During this transition, I always offered the breast first and then once Benjamin was done - I would then give him a bottle. It worked out beautifully (thank God), my baby pooped and peed enough to come home, and my perfect little family started our lives together. Whew!
However, because nothing is ever perfect... it got harder.
Breastfeeding and pumping are very different in a sense of the volume of milk produced. When you solely breastfeed, your supply builds the more your baby drinks. When you pump, on the other hand, your supply builds the more you pump - which is usually way more milk than your little one needs (at first, anyway). What I didn't know prior to starting this process was, once you start pumping you cannot stop or even slow down. If your body gets used to you pumping a few times a day, if you do anything less than that your body reacts. How do I know this? Because less than one week into being a mother, I'd already managed to get several blocked ducts in both of my breasts - causing engorgement and eventually mastitis.
Imagine: on top of being exhausted from delivery and sleep deprivation, learning how to handle a newborn child, and dealing with postpartum recovery down under (which included contracting both a UTI and strep B) - I now had two throbbing breasts that I couldn't even think about touching without experiencing excruciating pain. The only way to alleviate the pain was to continue to pump, over and over again, and empty out my breasts as much as possible. Luckily, after what felt like an eternity (which was about 4-5 days) of hot showers and warm compresses, my breasts were able to loosen up and the pain eventually subsided.
Now, two weeks into being a mother, I have to pump every couple of hours to keep from getting engorgement once again. If I don't pump at least once during the night, I wake up in a puddle of milk and/or in pain and discomfort. It's annoying but it isn't difficult. And you know what? My baby is healthy, I'm able to provide him with a completely breastmilk diet, and I've managed to convince myself that I am not a bad mother after all. What more could I ask for?
I won't deny that I daily think about ways to cut my milk supply so I can stop pumping. I often think about how plenty of babies are on a solely formula-based diet and come out completely healthy. And yes, I do feel guilty for having those selfish thoughts. But that's the struggle of a breastfeeding/pumping mother. There may be those mothers out there who love breastfeeding and wish they could do it forever - but that ain't me. My breasts are far too sensitive for that. I do admit that I miss the connection of having that special skin-to-skin bond with my son, but at the same time I love that my fiancé gets to feed him on occasion (both for their relationship and my sanity's sake).
So, for those mothers out there dealing with the breastfeeding struggle... you are not alone. I'm told that it gets better over time, when the feedings spread out and you start supplementing other foods into your little one's diet.
Whether you decide to breastfeed/pump for a few days, weeks, months, or years - you're doing great. It doesn't make you any less of a mother if you decide not to breastfeed, or to pump, and go straight to formula. If there's one thing I've learned in my whole two weeks of parenthood so far it's this: There's no "right way" to do it. You have to do what is best for you and your little one. Take everything else with a grain of salt. You know what's best for your child, mama. Keep it up!
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