A breastfeeding tale. (Intro)

I blame my 8th grade Home Economics teacher for placing the thought in my head that breastfeeding would be a breeze. She was one of the most optimistic women (read: annoyingly cheerful) I've every known. I can't remember the context, but for some reason, she was standing in front of the class one day telling us about what it was like to hold her son for the first time. She told us about how it was very important to give the baby colostrum right away to help their bodies transition into the world. "They put him on my lap, and I stroked his cheek with one finger" she said cheerfully. "Then, he turned his head to me and latched right on. We had a beautiful breastfeeding experience from that moment."

Despite the fact that I've heard/read eleventy billion people say that breastfeeding is hard work, that mantra from my home Ec teacher was always etched in my brain. In the back of my head, I always believed that if I just thought positive thoughts, and loved my baby, it would work. And, if I can be completely candid, I always privately judged people who were formula feeding because they "weren't able to breastfeed". I didn't care if someone chose to feed that way from the get-go, but it seemed to me that people who allegedly tried to nurse and weren't able to continue were kind of fabricating the truth. Possibly using that line because they didn't want to breastfeed after all, and didn't want others to pass judgement.

"Everyone can breastfeed!" I'd always heard. My inexperienced pea-brained self took that to heart, and believed it, without exception. A few weeks before delivery, I marched off to Barnes and Noble. I grabbed a pumpkin spice latte (the "theme" beverage of my 3rd trimester, for sure) and a copy of the Dr. Sears breastfeeding book. As I leafed through, the book reinforced my view. Breastfeeding is a natural act, that every mother/baby are programmed to do. There were only a few pages on latch technique- and the language that was utilized to describe these techniques was so simplistic that I didn't even bother to purchase the book.

The nurses and lactation consultants will teach me at the hospital, I'll have four days there, after all.
This was my thought as I drove home without any sort of a breastfeeding guide alongside me.

As I walked into the OR for my scheduled c-section, I thought about how excited I was to breastfeed her for the first time. I had pushed aside the sadness of not having a vaginal birth, and concentrated on that moment of bonding instead. I had been told countless times that we'd get to be together as soon as I was stitched up.

After they pulled her out of my belly, tears were shed, and pictures were taken, the nurse called over to me- "Honey, her blood sugar is a little low. The nursery is going to have to give her some formula while you get stitched up. Are you or your husband lactose intolerant?" Through the euphoria of the moment, I hollered back "Yes- Bob is". "We'll give her a little soy then", she responded.

So her first food wasn't going to be breastmilk. I could deal with that. She was here, after all, 10 fingers and 10 toes- screaming and kicking with great vigor. Sure, it wasn't exactly as I'd planned, but it was what was needed to keep her healthy.

Just then, I started to get an intense pain in my shoulder. I told the anesthesiologist and she told me that she would give me something to help, but it would probably make me sleepy. I joked with my OB across the curtain about Michael Jackson (it was the same drug he OD'd on) and fell fast asleep.

20 minutes later, I woke up in the recovery room without a baby beside me. I asked the nurse if I'd get to breastfeed her when we all got back to my room a few minutes later and she assured me that despite the fact that she would have just eaten formula, "a 8 lb 12 oz baby will definitely want to eat."

After we got back to my room, we found out that my little girl was not coming back to be with me right away. She was having trouble clearing the fluid from her lungs, and needed to stay in the nursery for observation. I was a puddle of tears, wailing out that it was killing me that I wouldn't even be able to pick her out of a line up of babies because I only saw her for a few minutes in the OR. Eventually, the nurses felt bad for me and got me into a wheelchair- legs still completely numb, catheter bag and all. They brought me into the nursery room to see her.

"I just want to hold her". I cried as I watched her breathing quickly on the warming table. "That's not what's best for her!" the nurse snapped at me. I wanted to wring her neck. How dare she tell me how I should feel at a moment like this.

About an hour later, the neonatal nurse walked into our room to tell us Kaia would have to be admitted to the NICU for further monitoring. More sobs.

So there I was. Four hours after birth finally having my first breastfeeding experience. However, instead of a warm, cozy brand new baby cuddled up against me, I was watching my nipples get pulled in and out of a breast pump while my husband scarfed down a ham sandwich. Hardly the perfect portrait painted by my Home Ec instructor. And, as I would soon learn, it would be a much more complicated journey than I'd ever imagined.


(To be continued...)