Letting go of breastfeeding and being okay with it…
Okay, so this isn’t in anyway art related but I really just wanted to write about this because, well, breastfeeding is tough…
As the title suggests, I’ve given up on breastfeeding and I’m okay with it; well I’m nearly okay with it. In fact I’m on the fence and a negative comment will send me swinging in regret so please, any ‘breast is best’ advocates keep this a judgement free zone. I’m just telling my story.
From the day we found out Ted was happening, I knew I wanted to breastfeed. After all, according to the world health organisation it’s how babies should be fed until they’re at least one year old. I knew so many women who’d successfully fed beautiful healthy babies from the breast and I wanted that. I wanted to stylishly tuck him under my top with no nipple flashing whatsoever. I thought I’d merrily sit with him nursing accross my lap whilst I sup a coffee and eat cake chatting with a friend. I wanted the freedom of no bottles, no washing, no sterilising. I wanted people to think I was a good mum, I wanted me to think I was a good mum. And well then a pandemic hit so the coffee, cake and friends went out the window, but the nursing dream was still my number one priority.
Fast forward 9 months and 12 weeks and I’ve finally accepted maybe it’s just not for me, not with Baby Ted anyway. After floods of tears, a body filled to the brim with cortisol, a whole lot of self doubt and over £400 spent on breast pumps, lactation cookies and other such desperate milk making products, it has finally come to an end, and I’m feeling so much better for it. I managed to exclusively breastfeed for 6 weeks and combi feed for a further 4 weeks of his life and for that I’m really proud. Part of me feels completely ashamed I couldn’t manage much longer but I know that’s completely irrational. I couldn’t have tried any harder.
There’s a few reasons it hasn’t worked out for me…
It really should have worked out, It started out so well, I miraculously escaped sore nipples and I’d been led to believe that was impossible, his latch was great from the moment he was born and he got back up to birth weight within 5 days, a flying start I guess you’d call it. What I later learnt though is that some babies just feed a lot. To ted I was an all day buffet, he’s such a chilled baby, just as laid back as his father, he doesn’t really cry, but he also doesn’t work hard for his meals either. Why should he when he can just snack and then snack again 20 minutes later? I spent every day wishing it to get easier, I wanted to shower, I wanted a moment to myself. Sounds selfish now doesn’t it? And looking back now, as in love with Ted as I am I couldn’t imagine feeling like that, but I did. After going through labour and having no sleep for a few weeks I’d have given anything for just an hour of my old life back. The weeks passed and all the books said it’ll slowly get easier, It didn’t really. If anything it got worse. I was feeding him, trying to pack Christmas orders, feeding him again, getting some washing done, feeding him again, packaging for half an hour, feeding again. If I didn’t have a business to maintain It might not have took quite so much toll on me, I poured my heart and soul into this shop and I didn’t want to lose momentum when it was going so well. I was exhausted. There was no time in the day to eat, I’d throw whatever I could find down my throat and sit and feed him….again…. whilst hiccupping. There was no time for sleep, no time for anything but work and Ted. Looking back this is probably what ruined it. Being so tired, stressed and not eating enough, my milk supply suffered and it was just a self perpetuating cycle, the more I stressed he wasn’t getting enough milk, the less milk I made. In the twelve weeks Ted has been with us my day time naps have totalled 5 hours. Don’t do it to yourselves ladies. SLEEP!
I also slipped a disk. Six weeks in to my breastfeeding journey my back went. Determined not only to run my business and look after a new baby, Einstein here thought it a good idea to start running before being signed off by the doctor. I know, how bloody stupid, it’s like I was trying to make it fail. Anyway, I powered on for a few days ignoring the twinge and then it really went. I’ve never felt pain like it, it was up there with childbirth and I couldn’t move, never mind sit up and hold a baby. So, que the beginning of the end. Ted got a bottle from Daddy whilst I recovered, he learnt how much easier that was to drink from and decided to start world war 3 after 10 minutes of every breastfeed. I managed a couple more weeks of this but decided finally to just bottle feed him. Still determined not to let the breast milk go though I decided to express it instead. I started pumping before every feed. I would bottle feed him my milk, rush to get him to sleep so I could then quickly pump enough for the next feed. My hat goes off to any mum that can do this longer than two weeks, I’ve never been so miserable.
To add to this, it probably doesn’t help that I am of an impatient disposition and a complete fidget bottom. The final reason I’ve given it up, and put me firmly in the bad mum category if you want, is because it just doesn’t suit me. Being the only person who can feed him felt extremely claustrophobic. I love to be busy and I absolutely hate sitting around doing nothing. Watching Nick lethargically wander around the house doing my chores half as fast and half as well whilst I’m stuck on the sofa feeding the baby is one of the most frustrating feelings I’ve ever had. The house was a tip, my stress levels were through the roof, my anxiety was rubbing off on Ted and poor Nick got the brunt of it. I spent the first 10 weeks of my babies life feeling trapped, exhausted, ashamed, disheartened and overwhelmingly anxious. And if there’s one thing that can lower milk supply it’s stress and anxiety.
So there you have it, It didn’t work and I’m sad about it, but also, so much happier. Maybe if I’d stuck at it things would have gotten easier and it may just have been worth it. But… maybe it wouldn’t and I’d have spent even more of my babies first year utterly miserable. I will never know. It turns out though that a formula fed Ted is an absolute treasure. The easy flow of a bottle means he can eat more with minimal effort; he can watch football with Dad and drink at the same time. He smiles more, sleeps easier and his Mum is now so much more confident. She can head out on walks knowing his belly is full, she can tell the difference between hungry and tired grunts and she doesn’t have to leave the room to feed because she’s terrified of flashing a boob to the father-in-law, oh, and there’s so much more time spare for cuddles, kisses and playing.
To any mum having a bloody awful time breastfeeding, make a decision and then let it go. Once you do you’ll feel like the world just hopped off your shoulders.
Oh and also take it easy! Rest, enjoy the time, do absolutely nothing. If we give Ted a brother or sister I plan on closing this shop for at least 6 months. (I’d really miss it, but my lesson is learnt.) Who knows, maybe by then Brooke Marie could afford to employ someone to help! But for now the bottle is working a treat for us, we’re happy, chilled and ready to get going again!