August 10, 2021

My Breastfeeding Journey.

August is National Breastfeeding Awareness Month and it feels like the right time to jump into this. My breastfeeding journey has been on the top of my list of topics since starting the blog and somehow it keeps slipping down the list. I think it’s probably because this is the first really personal post I am writing. Thinking back on it all and trying to formulate it into words is scary. Not because I am afraid to share, but because I think writing about your experience is arduous. I want to give it the justice and the light that it deserves. So, here goes nothing.

When I found out I was pregnant (let’s be serious though, prior to planning on becoming pregnant) I knew I would need to manage my expectations and planning tendencies in order to enjoy it. I tend to be an over-thinker and excessive planner – those that know me are probably rolling their eyes because that at times is even an understatement. I’ve worked really hard over the past few years of my life to embrace these qualities as they are who I am but also to not let them consume me and dampen my experiences. I wanted to find the fine line between informed and worried. During my pregnancy I think that I succeeded and I am so proud of myself for that. I very much enjoyed being pregnant; how I felt both physically and emotionally, how I looked, how I thought, how I didn’t think, how “we” just were. I practiced a lot of yoga, read some books, took a labor and delivery class with my husband, travelled to Greece and also rested. I was able to rest my mind and my body.

By now you must be thinking I thought this post was about breastfeeding… and it is. The purpose of my pregnancy rant was to set the stage for what I think helped me be successful with breastfeeding. I did not stress and I did not over-plan my breastfeeding journey. For me, this is what I needed. I went into it with the motto “Fed is Best”, which I very strongly still believe. The intention to attempt to breastfeed with the idea that if it wasn’t working for Poppy or for me that that would be okay. Formula is not bad. I was formula fed and I am fine. I did not take a class and I did not read endless books or blogs about breastfeeding. There is a fine line between being prepared and setting unrealistic expectations regarding what something has to look like or be like to be successful. Now, I didn’t completely throw everything to the wind, I am incapable of that I suppose. I did order my breast pump at 32 weeks. I did do a bit of research and asked around about favorite and necessary products for breastfeeding (don’t worry there will be a post with these) so that I would be prepared if things were going great. I was ready, not stressed or pressured, but ready.

It’s a crazy thing though, right? Nurturing and feeding another being with solely your body. I still think about it sometimes; how amazing it is that the female body is designed to do such a thing. Conceive a baby, grow that baby, deliver the baby earth-side and then provide sole nourishment for that baby. And all while keeping itself alive and functioning (to varying degrees of course depending on the day…). Aside from the physical amazement, the emotional amazement is there too. The bond that we formed and the pride that I felt while breastfeeding Poppy is unmatched. I remember the endearment in her eyes as she looked up at me and my soul melting into hers as she often held my finger with her entire hand. Those feelings are everything and what keeps the mamas of the world going I think.

A sign made by a coworker for me on the office door where I pumped.

Don’t get me wrong though, there were often equal feelings of exhaustion, dependence and defeat. I don’t remember those as vividly now that my journey is over though. Breastfeeding is hard. Aside from the time dependence and physical toll, the mental burden can be significant as well. Sometimes it feels that you have no space or time of your own. When not feeding directly from the breast, which for me I much preferred as there was nothing to wash and Poppy tended to empty my boob more efficiently, the alternative is pumping. Pumping may actually be the worst thing on earth. No dramatics there at all… but in all seriousness, pumping is tedious and hard. To the women who exclusively pump, I see you and you deserve all the awards in the world. Logistical difficulties include but are not limited to finding the time and space to do it (this could be an entire rant on its own), storing, measuring and labeling the milk and finally cleaning all the pump parts. The act of actual pumping is bizarrely the least offensive part of the process. The societal and self pressure placed upon mothers to breastfeed – to have a baby that sleeps – to have the cleanest house – to have the best career – the to do it all – to do it all perfectly – to do it all perfectly without giving anything up or looking like the struggle isn’t real can be crippling. It feels like a standard that no one can live up to, at least happily. It can be done and is often done, but in the end the mental health of the mamas of the world is commonly left at the bottom of the priorities.

Our Story.

When Poppy was born, we elected for skin to skin immediately. What a moment this is – truly beyond words which I’m sure many of you can corroborate or may be able to in the future. With the help of the labor and delivery (L&D) nurse we attempted a latch and Poppy did great! Shockingly and happily we seemed to figure it out in that moment together. Togetherness – what a raw and new relationship for my daughter and I. One of the 5 million people in the room did make a comment on her frenulum/potential tongue-tie, to which my healthcare background allowed me to completely ignore as I knew it was not her place to diagnose or comment on such a thing. We were crushing it, per my expert opinion, and that was all that mattered (spoiler alert, she was wrong).

Poppy was born at approximately 6pm and so we had two nights following that to stay in the hospital. She was born a few weeks prior to the COVID-19 lockdowns in our area so at that time the world and hospital were functioning normally, not knowing what was shortly to come. We were able to meet a fabulous lactation consultant the next morning who was able to cement some of the things we were practicing with the overnight nursing staff. (A quick shout out to L&D and postpartum nurses – the most caring and dedicated providers. The constant caring and giving for not only one patient, but two at a time in each room and then having four to six rooms at a time. How they are so compassionate and helpful, I will never know). My husband and I hit it off immediately with the lactation consultation. She had a very similar personality to ours and was very realistic but still caring and methodical. We learned several holding techniques (crossbody, football and she even came back prior to my discharge for side lying). Although there is so much to learn and you are trying so hard to juggle this little squirmy fragile being while trying to mash your boob with your other hand to finesse your nipple it into their little mouths without harming them, it does get better. Taking the support around me while in the hospital was so helpful and made me feel as grounded emotionally as one can in the moments prior to leaving the hospital to care for our new baby on our own.

The first few weeks they feed so often – every 2-3 hours. I was fortunate enough that my supply was plentiful and I was able to exclusively breastfeed throughout my journey. In the initial days I remember thinking that the weight of the demands falling on myself was much larger than on my husband (seemed like the trend in this baby making process thus far was continuing, to no fault of his). I was the one waking up at night to do all the feedings. Initially he would wake up with me to help me get Poppy out of the bassinet and to ensure everything was going well and we were safe. What a kind soul and although at times he frustrates me, I will never forget how he cared for us during my labor, delivery and initial days. The way that I love him and view him after seeing him rise into fatherhood is forever changed.

After a week or so, Poppy and I settled into a rhythm and we were able to feed all by ourselves. I stopped waking my husband up at night when she had to eat because truly he was not able to contribute much and we had a routine down. I would take Poppy from the bassinet down the hallway into the nursery to eat and then place her back into the bassinet when finished. I tried nursing her in bed initially but I was so worried about dozing off while feeding her (I am a very heavy sleeper). I had so much more peace of mind and restful sleep after going to our space in the peaceful nursery and then returning her to her safe space. Logically, I knew it made sense for my husband to be rested at night so I could rest during the day when needed. Emotionally, I wanted to stab him while he was sleeping and I was feeding our child from my boob and soul. The late-night rage is real. I will never forget this and you are not alone if you feel this way.

The initial nights of breastfeeding, before the baby becomes aware of lights and their surroundings, are hysterical. The things you do while feeding… online shopping, duolingo, the ends of the internet and the ends of your mind. Eventually you return to some loneliness when cell phone light and noise are no-gos. I set an alarm for the first 6-7 weeks every three hours during the night to wake up to feed her. She often would need to be woken up to eat but sometimes did wake for an earlier feeding. I had to set two alarms actually, because I would snooze and/or sleep through them. Sometimes all three of us would sleep through them and it would be like five hours between feedings and I would feel like a terrible mother. Another spoiler alert, we were all fine and continue to be fine. At approximately 7 weeks we began slowly lengthening the times between feedings during the night to allow for her to transition slowly as well as my boobs.

At 3 weeks I began pumping for the first time for one feeding/day. Initially I pumped directly after the first morning meal as the mornings are when the supply was greatest. We then used that milk in a bottle to feed during the next time I pumped. We elected to do a bottle at the approximate 5pm feeding as that worked for my husband and he wanted to give her the bottle (which I think was also beneficial to her accepting it). I pumped during that time to get milk for the next day’s feeding. At this point she would eat approximately 2 ounces per feeding. I was fortunate that I had a significant supply and would often pump 4-5 ounces per session. I simply froze the extra milk and began my freezer stash for the future. During these initial weeks I did reach out to the lactation consultant at the hospital where I delivered. They have a free hotline and these are meant to be utilized. I had a strong let down and teetered towards an oversupply at 5 weeks or so. They recommended that I not change anything nor attempt to diminish my supply as it was so early in my journey and my supply was continuing to develop. I much appreciated this advice and continued on course.

A large freezer stash is not necessary to successfully breastfeed, but boy did it make me feel better to have. I was persistent throughout my journey in freezing extra milk that was pumped or collected in my Haakaa milk collector. Everyone is different, but I swear by my Haakaa. I had two traditional Haakaas and I think it was the best product that I had. It is a one piece, silicone passive milk collector that I used on the opposite breast during the first morning feeding daily throughout my breastfeeding journey. This would get us approximately 2-3 extra ounces to freeze a day. I think it contributed to my stable and hearty supply as well. Enough gushing over the Haakaa for now though (more about it later in my favorite breastfeeding products post). One challenge that we had during the COVID-19 pandemic was the ability to purchase a small freezer for milk. We ended up bribing family members to take bags of breastmilk and aid with storage. I ended up with approximately 800 ounces at the high point which was great!

Luckily for us after some great work with sleep training, Poppy began sleeping through the night at around 12 weeks and we moved her to her crib in her nursery shortly after as that felt best for our family. After a few nights of using my Haakaa mid nighttime, I was able to sleep through the night with a supportive bra. It was heavenly. As I said above, I used my Haakaa every morning which I think helped me with my supply. Due to COVID-19 I was able to return to work in a partial on-site/from home situation which was helpful for transitioning into pumping more frequently. Pumping at work is no walk in the park. For me, pumping at work in a hospital/medical clinic setting during a pandemic was incredibly stressful. I had to essentially find and make my own space to pump privately and felt much stress in keeping myself and the milk safe and clean. I have a Spectra pump and they do not recommend using the dishwasher or microwave sterilizing bags, only boiling water. This was less than ideal. We had a specific large pot that basically lived on our stovetop for the “boob parts”. (Pro-tip, if you do boil your “boob parts”, having a cheap separate pot is nice, especially if you use lanolin while pumping as it leaves a residue on the pot). I felt almost compelled to boil and sterilize the parts everyday after I used them since they were in the hospital. I also washed my wet bag and pumping bras on hot each day when I got home as well. This, although probably overkill, brought me some comfort that I was doing the best I possibly could. Saying it was exhausting staying on top of all of this though is a massive understatement. I am glad that I pumped and breastfed and was able to do so successfully, but pumping is the worst (have I said that already?).

When at work I pumped as many times as Poppy ate during the day. If I went to work prior to her waking up, I would pump in the car on my way to work. A crazy concept I know, but I loved to pump in the car. You can multitask while doing it and it’s a fairly private situation. I would set everything up prior to starting my drive, start the pump right before I left and then stopped it at the desired time (before or after I got to my destination, depending on it’s distance away). There are several schools of thought of how frequently to pump such as pumping every 3 hours no matter what or pump with the baby’s schedule, and the latter worked for me. I refrigerated my parts between pumping sessions during the day (please do your own research on this and do what feels safest and best for you). I felt that this was cleaner than trying to wash or wipe them at work. Over time as she ate less frequently during the day I was able to pump less frequently. At approximately 10 months she was drinking 4 bottles a day (breakfast, mid-morning, mid-afternoon and bedtime). I had a freezer stash as I talked about and was able to calculate that I’d have enough frozen milk to continue breastmilk until she was 1 year old, my initial goal for my breastfeeding journey, in accordance with the current American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) recommendation. So at 10 months, I began decreasing my pumping/nursing sessions during the day to eventually eliminate the middle two feedings and replace those with frozen milk. Therefore I breastfed her for breakfast (or pumped if I worked early before she woke up) and at bedtime. This felt so freeing for me! It eliminated a lot of stress of trying to schedule pumping around the work day and the worry about finding a clean space. It took about 2 weeks of gradual decrease to drop those two feedings and it was not too difficult or painful.

At 1 year I dropped the morning feeding and breastfed only at bedtime. This was around that time that I was offered a COVID-19 vaccine. What a blessing to be able to receive the vaccine but this was a whole new stressor in the situation. After a few weeks of its availability it was recommended for pregnant and breastfeeding women by the American College of Gynecology (ACOG) and the Academy of Breastfeeding Medicine (ABM) with the caveat that there was no data as no trials were completed on pregnant or breastfeeding women. What a terrible position to put SO MANY women in. Make a decision regarding you and your child’s health without any data at all. For me, this really emphasized what a disservice is done in excluding pregnant and breastfeeding women in research rather than safely including them. I strongly considered for weeks discontinuing breastfeeding when I got the vaccine as I was worried about side effects. Ultimately when it came time to do so it just didn’t feel right. It felt like the forces of the world were in control and making the decision for me. I decided not to stop and I do not regret it (especially as initial data did finally become available several months later saying that antibodies from post vaccination were found in breastmilk).

Additionally at 1 year, we finished the rest of the freezer stash and transitioned to organic whole cow’s milk per our pediatrician’s recommendations. We transitioned from a bottle to a straw cup at the same time we transitioned to cow’s milk to minimize having to transition several times. No issues there which was great. I continued to breastfeed at bedtime until 16 months. Poppy gradually just decreased her nursing time and interest which felt like a safe way to close the chapter. Her choice in the matter made me feel fulfilled in my contribution and secure in her decision to move away from the breastfeeding. Because of my really gradual decrease in demand I had very little pain or difficulty upon finishing breastfeeding. I wore a more supportive bra in the week following and then even transitioned from that. Not wearing a bra for the first time to sleep in 16 months may have been one of the best feelings since being pregnant. The freedom was… unmatched.

I still sometimes remember the feelings of breastfeeding both mentally and physically. Sometimes I feel this “yearning” feeling in my breasts – doesn’t that sound dramatic. It’s not meant to be, I just don’t know how to otherwise describe it. The physical size, shape and perkiness of my boobs has changed and certainly for the sadder. No one tells you that. My gynecologist put it well – it’s one of the “tattoos” of motherhood. A tattoo that is permanent and maybe not exactly as planned but one that holds a story, a story with so much depth.

The work that goes into this process though is worth every ounce and every bit of nutrition that is able to be provided to the baby. All the tears and all the frustrations and even the physical and emotional emptiness I feel in my breasts now are worth it. I wouldn’t change a thing of our 16 month journey. It was something that I grew to love, even through the toughest moments.