I simply cannot find the words to describe how relieved I was to find this website. I had immense guilt over having to choose formula for Colin and writing my story out for people to read was unbelievably therapeutic. So here it is. And sorry if you think I'm beating a dead horse with this (I mean, I did post about it already and put it on FB) but it's such an important part of my mothering experience and I don't want to forget it.
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About 4 years before having my son, I made the personal decision to have breast reduction surgery. The surgeon fully explained to me that breast feeding in the future may or may not be possible. I was completely content with formula feeding at that time. Breast feeding wasn't "normal" to me. My mother didn't breast feed and
neither did anyone close to me. Formula feeding was my "normal".
While pregnant, my husband and I took the Bradley Method birth classes. The instructor made it sound like breast feeding would happen naturally and the baby would instinctively know what to do and he would "climb" up my chest to begin breastfeeding. She told me she knew of many other women who had the same surgery and went on to exclusively breast feed with no issues. I was relieved to know that breast feeding was still a possibility.
My son was born at 37 weeks via Cesarean weighing 5 pounds 3 ounces. He was literally skin and bones. I remember a nurse asking me if I wanted to breastfeed. I answered with a resounding "YES!". She then leaned in and whispered "He may not have the strength to nurse immediately. It would be good to consider supplementing with formula and to consult with the lactation consultant".
I felt like the lactation consultant had a special interest in me because of my previous surgery. She stopped by my room multiple times a day to check in. She instructed me to feed some formula prior to attempting to breast feed so that he wouldn't be completely stressed out and starving. This did not work for us. When I would bring my son to the breast, he would instantly start crying and turn his head from side to side, refusing to latch.
Because he was struggling to latch, I started pumping and bottle feeding him the breast milk. The lactation consultant warned me to continue attempting to nurse because bottle feeding and pumping could interfere with my supply. I continued the cycle of bottle feeding (both formula and breast milk), nursing then pumping for my entire stay in the hospital. I did get a successful latch a few times but it never lasted long. I was hopeful that once I got home into my own environment, nursing would come easier for us. I would be less stressed and hopefully he would pick up on that.
Unfortunately it was quite the opposite. I never figured out the right hold or position, he continued to refuse to latch. He became so stressed and worked up (as did I) that the nursing sessions never lasted more than 5 minutes. Eventually I just stopped trying. I continued pumping and most days, I was able to give him more breast milk than formula. In order to keep up with his feedings, I had to pump after each feeding for at least 30 minutes. He was eating between 2 and 3 ounces at a time and that was just the amount I would get at each pumping session. Once he hit six weeks old, he started eating more - about 4 ounces - and I just couldn't keep up. I began having to supplement with formula again.
I continued to pump, convincing myself that every drop of breast milk was better than none. One day, I pumped five ounces of breast milk in one session. I was absolutely elated! I thought my luck had turned around and I would be able to provide him milk for longer than I had thought. My body had other plans. At the very next session, I barely pumped an ounce.
I immediately went in to damage control mode. I began drinking Mother's Milk Tea as often as I could. I ate oatmeal for every meal. But nothing worked. Soon after, I stopped pumping and began exclusively feeding formula. I became an emotional wreck and the guilt of formula feeding was weighing on me hard. Every time I fed him a formula bottle, I would imagine I was feeding him nasty, unhealthy sludge. I was insanely hard on myself. I told myself I was a quitter and if I really loved him, I would have stuck with it. I convinced myself he was going to be an obese, unhealthy baby who will never hit milestones and he'll forever be shunned from society because he wasn't breast fed.
Then one day he smiled. And the next, he laughed. He was hitting milestones and he wasn't an obese, unhealthy baby. He was (and still is) small for his age. In that moment, I let go of all my guilt over formula feeding. He was thriving, we were bonded and I knew I did the best I could for him.
That's all that matters.
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