The recliner was the finishing touch. My husband had painted the wall a forest green, and we got curtains to match. We bought an adorable rug, set up the changing table, and with about two weeks to spare before our baby’s due date, we had our nursing chair. I envisioned spending hours in this chair, effortlessly nursing, baby propped on the Boppy pillow, snacks and water at the ready, like I’d seen depicted on social media. My intimidating Spectra pump sat in the closet, and though I’d done some preliminary research on how to use it, I figured I had a couple of months to truly get acquainted with it.
I was excited to breastfeed. During my training to become a dietitian, I had learned about the many nutritional benefits of breastmilk, and the science behind breastmilk production and supply fascinated me. I imagined having this bond with my baby that literally no one else would. That it might not be in the cards for me didn’t cross my mind – most of the moms I knew had no issues with breastfeeding. I had one friend who really struggled, but that seemed like the exception. I had read that it could take a while to get the hang of it, but I wasn’t worried. I’ve always been a healthy and physically capable person, so I assumed I would catch on easily. Since my baby was going to be exclusively breastfed, I didn’t do any research on exclusive pumping or formula feeding. In retrospect, I was under-prepared for some of the challenges of the fourth trimester.
By the time my son was born, I had been awake for 36 hours. I knew it was crucial to initiate breastfeeding within the first hours of a baby’s life, so I pushed through the exhaustion as I fumbled with this tiny new being. Neither of us had a clue what we were doing. During our hospital stay, we had several visits from the lactation consultant, but even with her assistance we couldn’t get into much of a rhythm. My nipples were incredibly sore and raw, but I assumed this was normal for a new mom (it’s not). And it didn’t get any better at home. One nipple needed bed rest, and on top of that, I appeared to have a supply issue. It was clear that my son wasn’t getting enough food, so I reluctantly supplemented with more formula. I was a massive ball of stress as I waited for my appointment with a lactation consultant.
These first couple of weeks at home were the toughest. Typical of mothers with a newborn, I was sleep-deprived and dealing with a case of the baby blues. But on top of that, I couldn’t feed my baby the way that nature intended. If “breast is best,” as they say, then was I already failing as a mother? I didn’t have the bandwidth to be able to redirect my intrusive thoughts, and I’m sure the stress only exacerbated my supply issue. I was pumping every three hours, but only producing enough milk for one feed per day. I would often wake up at 3 a.m. to feed my son formula and then spend another 30 minutes hooked up to the Spectra. I felt guilty if I missed a pumping session to get an extra hour of sleep. I had just delivered a human from my body after growing him from scratch, and yet I felt inadequate and weak. Huge, dark clouds hovered over me and my postpartum experience.
Jean Hanks Uyeki with Cameron (Photo by Ian Uyeki)
The lactation consultant we worked with was fantastic, and we trusted her opinion. She was convinced that our son’s tongue tie was to blame for our feeding challenges. Tongue tie is a fairly common condition that restricts the tongue’s range of motion. If it’s severe enough, it can cause difficulties with feeding and speech. Our LC observed that our son was compensating for his tongue’s restricted movement by using his jaw to get milk out. Essentially, he was chomping on my nipples. We followed her suggestions to try to train my son to more efficiently use his tongue, while I continued to pump around the clock to try to increase my supply. But by six weeks postpartum, we hadn’t made many gains. Our LC wasn’t optimistic that I would breastfeed successfully without getting an oral tie release, a quick procedure in which a doctor cuts the frenulum, the thin membrane under the tongue, to improve tongue mobility. This seemed like aggressive action to take – there was no guarantee that the procedure would help improve my son’s sucking skills. Plus, I still wasn’t producing enough milk, and that picture was looking bleak. A blood test revealed that my level of prolactin, the hormone responsible for stimulating milk production after childbirth, was extremely low. At the suggestion of our LC, I ordered a medication from Canada called Domperidone that’s not FDA-approved in the U.S. and is used off-label for increasing milk supply. I decided this would be my last-ditch effort and at best I would be an exclusive pumper.
By this point, I was putting in so much work that I wasn’t fully enjoying my time with my baby. I could feel myself burning out. I had to wait two weeks for the medication to arrive, and this coincided with a family trip to Cape Cod, which I consider the turning point. While unpacking for the week, I pulled out the Spectra. I had visions of myself spending hours pumping in the bedroom alone, while the rest of my family gathered around my baby as he did something adorable. For what? My son was doing well on formula. Another week of pumping was unlikely to change my virtually nonexistent supply. I didn’t want to miss even one minute of my son’s first family vacation. I put the Spectra back in my bag and haven’t looked at it since. When the medication came, I stashed it for the next kid if needed.
The decision to end my breastfeeding journey was the best one for my family. My mental health improved significantly, which allowed me to be a more present mom. Initially I felt guilty for exclusively formula feeding, but I reminded myself that when my son lost almost 10% of his birth weight in the first week, it was formula that allowed him to regain that weight in record time. Breast may be great, but fed is best. What also helped was learning that not only were many of my friends formula fed, but I was actually formula fed for the majority of my first year (and I think we all turned out okay). Formula feeding has provided my family with many benefits, and I’m so grateful that we have access to good quality formula.
I acknowledge that I have immense privilege even having this story to write about. My son is fed, growing, and developing beautifully. But when you’re a new mom, an experience like this can be all-consuming and incredibly isolating, even when you have a robust support system. It was difficult for me to imagine life out of the trenches. It wasn’t until I started sharing my experience with women outside of my immediate circle of close friends and family that I realized how far from alone I was. My story was not so unique after all.
I was genuinely surprised to hear so many similar tales of breastfeeding challenges. Why isn’t this talked about more? I do feel as a society we’ve made progress when it comes to discussing women’s reproductive health, but there’s still a lot of work to be done. By sharing stories and normalizing the fact that breastfeeding and the transition to motherhood is hard, we can not only build community but also have open and honest conversations about women’s health.
Top photo: Bigstock
