"Although 69% of mothers initially breastfeed, 21% of these stop within the first fortnight and another 36% within the next six weeks." http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/health/1984233.stm
Facts like this are written in many different breastfeeding articles; discussing how women essentially "give up" breastfeeding the early weeks after giving birth. Surprisingly, not many people talk about WHY. Between the lack of education about breastfeeding as well as the lack of support, its easy to see why some women decide to use formula. As someone who has gone through the trenches of breastfeeding for almost 7 months, I'd like to share a little bit of why it is "so easy" for women to make the switch.
Let's start with the first few moments after giving birth. A woman is exhausted and drained and has been through one of the most excruciating yet beautiful experiences of her life. Within moments, if she chooses from the beginning to breastfeed, the baby is placed on her to develop that initial connection. Sometimes babies don't latch from the get go which can be incredibly disheartening to a brand new mom. It can make someone feel rejected. This didn't happen with Delilah and I. She latched on right away. Which in my mind meant we were a GO for breastfeeding. If I only knew then what I know now!
Some people imagine that once you give birth, milk just starts shooting out whenever you need it. But the first couple of days you don't even get milk. You get something called colostrum; a gooey like substance that is really good for the baby but can be really hard to draw out. I remember my second day in the hospital, Delilah latched on and I cried. She had been latching on every half hour to try to get this colostrum and my lady nips were ridiculously sore. I started to bawling. I felt completely ridiculous. I just gave birth! How in the world is THIS making me cry? I had asked the nurses if I could meet with the lactation consultant to ask how to ease the pain. They informed me that she was in vacation (there was only one on staff!?!?!) and that I should just spread the colostrum on my nipple to ease the pain. Um....ok.
Later in the week, my milk finally came in. Again, I thought breastfeeding was going to be all up hill from there. Boy was I wrong. The next battle was Delilah's need to eat every 2 to 3 hours. And I DO means EVERY 2 to 3 hours. Day or night. So even though I had just gone through giving birth, my body didn't really get the rest it needed because I was the only one who could really get up to feed my daughter. It was exhausting. There were so many times I was completely unaware of my surroundings because I was delirious with the lack of sleep I was experiencing. This was just the first two weeks. It would have made the world of difference if we were formula feeding because then Michael could have done more of the feedings while I slept and allowed my body to get the rest it deserved. Not to say that you are well rested if you formula feed, because there is also the anxiety of a new parent that can come on but at least there is an option for more rest.
The other two factors that totally mess up the desire to breastfeed are engorgement and nipple leakage. Doesn't sound pleasant does it? With engorgement what happens is your boobs are constantly filling up with milk. Sometimes so much (and so fast) that they can become rock hard. You get total porn star boobs and can be in ridiculous amounts of pain like your boobs are going to explode any second if you don't nurse or pump the milk out. What a lot of women don't know is that usually after 6 weeks or a little bit more, your breasts start to produce less milk to meet the demands of your child. These first few weeks is just an oversupply that your body goes through as it figures out exactly how much milk to produce. The nipple leakage often goes along with the engorgement. When your boobs start to fill up too much, they start to randomly leak. Actually, what's even worse, is that sometimes even when a child starts to cry they can leak. There were many a times when Delilah (or even some random baby) would start bawling and my boobs would get the cue "It's time to feed! LET'S GET THESE JUICES GOING!" Again, that is something a lot of women don't know also doesn't last forever.
Now let's just say that within the first 6 weeks you get into the "swing of things" there are still so many factors that come into play that completely eff up the flow of breastfeeding that so many women are unaware about. My own journey has been a rough one. I had a huge drop in supply when Delilah started daycare because she started to rely on bottles more and rejected me as a result. Like I said, your breasts produce on supply and demand. So if she is not demanding from me, my body thinks I don't need the milk. Women always have the choice to pump, but pumping does not draw out nearly as much milk as a baby does. So again, your telling your body you don't need as much.
Between being introduced to bottles, teething, and having a double ear infection, there had been various issues for about 2 months that had Delilah constantly rejecting me. She would usually only nurse at night when she was half asleep. Although there were a couple of days she completely rejected me altogether which was incredibly disheartening. This made my job as a breastfeeding mom that much harder. I had to pump every 2 to 3 hours. Which technically sounds easy. But feeding my daughter only takes 10 minutes, where pumping takes 30-45 minutes. As a working mom, this made my life a living hell. Trying to be productive while having bottles and tubes tying you down to your desk can make for a challenging work environment. The same thing at home; I want nothing more to play with my daughter but I am tied down to my chair pumping away. I was also resorting to natural vitamins like taking 9 fenugreek pills a day, doing warm baths to "loosen the muscles," eating more oatmeal, drinking more water and Gatorade, and all the other home remedies to increase my supply.
The last thing that made breastfeeding and life challenging is attempting to have a social life. You have to pretty much negotiate your outings around your breastfeeding. There was one night that I was out to a bachelorette party and I had to tote along a book bag with me, excuse myself during the evenings festivities, and go into the bathroom to pump just to avoid wasting milk and preventing engorgement. Let me tell ya, hand pumping like a cow in a dive bar bathroom is not the most exciting experience one can go through.
On November 2nd, Delilah will be turning 7 months old and it isn't until the last few weeks that I feel like we are FINALLY getting the hang of breastfeeding. We have been home the last three days and I haven't needed to look at my pump machine once. It truly is a blessing. I am starting to feel that bond that so many women talk about. Many women have asked me why I didn't just give formula to Delilah during those hard times I just wanted to give up. I don't really have a good answer. It's just something deep down in my gut that I felt was right for my daughter. And I am willing to make any sacrifice that I need to make sure my daughter is getting the best of anything I can offer. It also just felt like the natural thing to do. Women have been producing breast milk for thousands of centuries, so there must be something right about it.
To me, breastfeeding is worth the fight. Although I completely understand why women choose to use formula, I constantly encourage women to give it their all when it comes to breastfeeding. It can be a hard struggle, but it truly is one that you come out stronger in the end. Women should educate themselves as much as possible. But I also believe in the power of community. Breastfeeding moms should share their experiences with other moms. Not in a way of telling others how to breastfeed, because each mother will have her own journey. Sharing our stories will help encourage other women that they CAN breastfeed and they can provide the most nutritious milk for their child. But we also need to be supportive in women who choose to formula feed their children because really, as long as a mother is trying to provide the best nutrition and love for her child, THAT is what really matters. All of us, whether you're a parent or not, should support and nurture that.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Time flies...when you're in a walking coma
Has it seriously been over three months since I've logged into this thing? Pitiful. Truly. I will get better! I have to get better because I am learning that there is so much more than just pictures of my daughter I want to document. I want to document more than her firsts as a baby, but my firsts as a mom, and the firsts Michael and I experience as we go through this crazy journey together. It really is an exhausting yet completely fascinating time in my life.
Delilah is now 6 months old. Like...half a year. Like...in another 6 months she wiill have existed on this planet for an entire year. It blows my mind every day. She has gone from being a motionless ball of flesh to a crazed firecracker who is always moving. Like...always. I have the back muscles of a brick house to prove it; and I mean that in the best of ways, and by best of ways I mean I need a complete top to bottom back replacement.
The last 6 months have been so much fun but upon reflection, I will NEVER forget the very first month. It was simultaneously one of the most traumatic/rewarding months of my life. The first week alone, I felt like I should have gotten some sort of gold medal of parenting, (is that not a thing in the Olympics?) just for the fact that I was able to survive it.
The very first week Michael had the flu. The man who never gets sick got so flippin' ill, he could barely lift his head or keep his eyes open. His fever was through the roof, he had shivers, coughs, sniffles, and we had to keep him far from the baby. This made my job a little bit harder the first week home. I had just given birth and didn't have any experience with babies. Michael had to literally teach me how to change a diaper because I had no idea. I held my own the first few days, but then I got to a point, listening to Delilah cry the WHOLE night, that I didn't know what to do anymore. Michael walked into the bedroom (after trying to sleep away his sickness in the living room) seeing me draped over Delilah's crib, crying more than she was. I was so exhausted and out of any solutions to make her happy; I felt like I had hit rock bottom and it was only day 4. This is a scene Michael and I have played out a couple more times, luckily not in a while though!
Then fast forward to day 5, and Delilah has jaundice. What the hell. We rush to the emergnecy room, Michael is still trying to keep his distance from her. Every time he wants to be near her he has to put a duck like mask on, gloves, and sanitize the crap out of his arms. We experience her first IV, which was horrifying. And I had my first overnight stay with her in the ER. Awesome. She was hooked up to a machine, lights beaming down on her, with a mask on, so needless to say she was NOT a happy camper and we didn't really sleep much that night!
Fast forward to the following two weeks. Michael is better and able to be the super dad he is. However, I still have to wake up every 2 to 3 hours to feed my child. At this point, Michael and I were sleeping in the living room because our bedroom seemed too cold for the baby, and it actually seemed easier. With all the late night wakings, and the not much napping during the day, I had hit a state of delirium that I had never experienced before. There was one night I woke up and the baby was laying in my arms, sleeping on my chest. My shirt was up, so apparently I had fed her. I had abosolutely NO recollection of even getting up to get her, let alone feed her, and nap with her. It scared the living shit out of me. What if I had dropped her? Suffocated her? I told Michael about my fears and he immediately called into work to take the day off. He stayed home and took care of the baby while I slept, pretty much the whole day. What a good man he is.
So that's just a schmidgen of the first month. Following that was projectile poop, learning to cloth diaper, struggles with breastfeeding (that's a whole other entry to look forward to), starting back at work, teething, the first fever, the first ear infection, squeals turning to laughter, solid food, gummy smiles, and just so much more. These 6 months have shown sides of me that I never knew existed.
I think the best part that I have gained from being a parent so far, is this new ultra I DON'T GIVE A CRAP attitude. For those of you who know me well, part of me has always carried that a little bit. But now, I am like I DON'T GIVE A CRAP to the umpteenth power. I don't give a crap if people think my daughter looks like a boy. I don't give a crap if people think I'm making my life harder by cloth diapering, breastfeeding, finding used clothes instead of wasting money on new ones, etc. I don't give a crap if people don't like my parenting style. I don't give a crap if people thinks it's weird that I sometimes actually drop my baby off at her grandmother's so I can spend alone time with my husband or even my own friends. I don't give a crap what people say about us, what we look like, what we do, sound like, smell like, blah blah blah. And I know that this is probably coming off a bit aggressive, but I TRULY mean it in the most zen like way. When you have a kid, you REALLY begin to realize that people don't matter. Only you, your child, and your partner. And yes my husband is just as important as my child, because when Delilah is grown with her own family, I am stuck with that sexy, delicious, sometimes obnoxiously smelly man that is just as much a part of her life as I am. He is the one I am going to die with, so I better like him...a lot.
The beautiful thing about having a family, a REAL family that is all your own, is that they become the only people you need to worry about. And they make you realize that you shouldn't have been worrying about anyone else all this time. I wasted way too many years caring about what other people say about me. Now, I just want to focus on how I think about myself, strive to be the best person I can be, so that I can be the best mom I can be for Delilah. Because I think in striving to be a great mom, you are striving to be a great overall human being, and that's a beautiful thing.
Delilah is now 6 months old. Like...half a year. Like...in another 6 months she wiill have existed on this planet for an entire year. It blows my mind every day. She has gone from being a motionless ball of flesh to a crazed firecracker who is always moving. Like...always. I have the back muscles of a brick house to prove it; and I mean that in the best of ways, and by best of ways I mean I need a complete top to bottom back replacement.
The last 6 months have been so much fun but upon reflection, I will NEVER forget the very first month. It was simultaneously one of the most traumatic/rewarding months of my life. The first week alone, I felt like I should have gotten some sort of gold medal of parenting, (is that not a thing in the Olympics?) just for the fact that I was able to survive it.
The very first week Michael had the flu. The man who never gets sick got so flippin' ill, he could barely lift his head or keep his eyes open. His fever was through the roof, he had shivers, coughs, sniffles, and we had to keep him far from the baby. This made my job a little bit harder the first week home. I had just given birth and didn't have any experience with babies. Michael had to literally teach me how to change a diaper because I had no idea. I held my own the first few days, but then I got to a point, listening to Delilah cry the WHOLE night, that I didn't know what to do anymore. Michael walked into the bedroom (after trying to sleep away his sickness in the living room) seeing me draped over Delilah's crib, crying more than she was. I was so exhausted and out of any solutions to make her happy; I felt like I had hit rock bottom and it was only day 4. This is a scene Michael and I have played out a couple more times, luckily not in a while though!
Then fast forward to day 5, and Delilah has jaundice. What the hell. We rush to the emergnecy room, Michael is still trying to keep his distance from her. Every time he wants to be near her he has to put a duck like mask on, gloves, and sanitize the crap out of his arms. We experience her first IV, which was horrifying. And I had my first overnight stay with her in the ER. Awesome. She was hooked up to a machine, lights beaming down on her, with a mask on, so needless to say she was NOT a happy camper and we didn't really sleep much that night!
Fast forward to the following two weeks. Michael is better and able to be the super dad he is. However, I still have to wake up every 2 to 3 hours to feed my child. At this point, Michael and I were sleeping in the living room because our bedroom seemed too cold for the baby, and it actually seemed easier. With all the late night wakings, and the not much napping during the day, I had hit a state of delirium that I had never experienced before. There was one night I woke up and the baby was laying in my arms, sleeping on my chest. My shirt was up, so apparently I had fed her. I had abosolutely NO recollection of even getting up to get her, let alone feed her, and nap with her. It scared the living shit out of me. What if I had dropped her? Suffocated her? I told Michael about my fears and he immediately called into work to take the day off. He stayed home and took care of the baby while I slept, pretty much the whole day. What a good man he is.
So that's just a schmidgen of the first month. Following that was projectile poop, learning to cloth diaper, struggles with breastfeeding (that's a whole other entry to look forward to), starting back at work, teething, the first fever, the first ear infection, squeals turning to laughter, solid food, gummy smiles, and just so much more. These 6 months have shown sides of me that I never knew existed.
I think the best part that I have gained from being a parent so far, is this new ultra I DON'T GIVE A CRAP attitude. For those of you who know me well, part of me has always carried that a little bit. But now, I am like I DON'T GIVE A CRAP to the umpteenth power. I don't give a crap if people think my daughter looks like a boy. I don't give a crap if people think I'm making my life harder by cloth diapering, breastfeeding, finding used clothes instead of wasting money on new ones, etc. I don't give a crap if people don't like my parenting style. I don't give a crap if people thinks it's weird that I sometimes actually drop my baby off at her grandmother's so I can spend alone time with my husband or even my own friends. I don't give a crap what people say about us, what we look like, what we do, sound like, smell like, blah blah blah. And I know that this is probably coming off a bit aggressive, but I TRULY mean it in the most zen like way. When you have a kid, you REALLY begin to realize that people don't matter. Only you, your child, and your partner. And yes my husband is just as important as my child, because when Delilah is grown with her own family, I am stuck with that sexy, delicious, sometimes obnoxiously smelly man that is just as much a part of her life as I am. He is the one I am going to die with, so I better like him...a lot.
The beautiful thing about having a family, a REAL family that is all your own, is that they become the only people you need to worry about. And they make you realize that you shouldn't have been worrying about anyone else all this time. I wasted way too many years caring about what other people say about me. Now, I just want to focus on how I think about myself, strive to be the best person I can be, so that I can be the best mom I can be for Delilah. Because I think in striving to be a great mom, you are striving to be a great overall human being, and that's a beautiful thing.
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