"I Actually Asked to See a Nipple Nazi!"

If you read one of my favorite - and also one of my most popular - posts entitled The Truth and the Nipple Nazis, you know that I had a rough time breastfeeding Banner. I could have gone on and on in that post about how many different things I tried, how sore I was, how emotionally and physically draining only 2 weeks of trying to nurse Banner was for me (and Sam, and Banner, and maybe even Grandma!), and how much guilt I carried (and at times still do) for stopping all the breastfeeding and pumping shenanigans with Banner over two years ago. I was displeased, disheartened, and greatly discouraged when it came to the lack of support I got from nurses and lactation consultants, as well as the general public opinion that breastfeeding was THE only option when it came to feeding babies the "right" way.

At that time, I was so upset because I firmly believed all the propaganda about breastfeeding. I believed that it should be easy - after all it is the "natural" way of feeding a baby. I believed it would be cheaper and easier than formula feeding. I believed my child would be healthier, happier, and smarter if I could just figure out this breastfeeding thing. I believed I could push past the pain, and that all mothers SHOULD push past the pain - especially if it was best for their babies. I believed I was a failure for not continuing with trying to get my "non-latching" baby to latch and for not continuing to pump for more than two weeks.

But, then, I had a perspective-change. I empowered myself. I read about how lots of women have problems breastfeeding, about how we should not judge anyone for how he/she decides to nourish his/her child, about what a bunch of crap some of the breastfeeding propaganda is! Not only did I begin to feel like I was not alone, but I knew I had made the best - the right - decision for my family, for my baby, for me.

Many of my friends and family members had asked me about breastfeeding before Quinn was born. Was I going to give it a try? Was I worried about it? Truth is, I WAS anxious about it. I did want to try it; after all, this was a different child. But, I was afraid of that awful pain again. I was worried that it might actually work and then I'd have to decide if I really wanted to continue. I was anxious that it would be hard to nurse a baby and take care of a toddler. I was worried about the "nipple nazis" at the hospital and the feelings of guilt sneaking up on me again - even though I knew better now. And, I knew it most likely wouldn't work because, well - my breasts are the same ones that couldn't provide for Banner... why would they all of a sudden provide for Quinn?

Sam and I went into the hospital with a plan of action. We were going to try the breastfeeding thing out and just see what happens. We were not going to let one person change our minds, we were not going to let anyone say anything that would take away from the experience whether it worked or not. We were not going to put up with the bullshit we had experienced with nurses and lactation consultants this time around. And, we were going to put my relationship with my baby ahead of the nutrition he might get from my breasts (when we knew damn straight that formula-feeding provides great nutrients, too). And, I was determined to take care of my emotional needs this time - so that I could continue to bond with Quinn, to enjoy my newborn, and to empower myself enough to know that my body will have been through enough with pregnancy and with a repeat C-section that if breastfeeding was too much, then it was too much. I was totally prepared to be ready to say "enough is enough" if it wasn't working.

Just before surgery, the nursery nurse who would be in the OR with us came to review with us what would happen after delivery. She asked if I wanted to breastfeed. I decided to be completely upfront and honest with her. I told her the brief version of my first experience with breastfeeding. I ended my story by saying that I would like to wait to nurse until I felt ready. She was very understanding and never once tried to force the issue. She said she would take my lead. I was very relaxed after talking to her about it, but I was still pretty sure it wouldn't work.

Yet, lo and behold, Quinn and I made a great breastfeeding match right away. He latched! He actually suckled and did great on my left side about an hour after he was born. It was an amazing moment. I so enjoyed the connection, the relief that it worked, the bond I was feeling. Sam was emotional watching it, too. He said if he had started to talk in that moment that he would have started crying. We were all smiles. It was pretty cool, and I'll always remember those first few moments of nursing with him.

The next few feedings were successful as well, but Quinn was partial to my left side. When we were back in my regular room, the new nursery nurse told me that she had been briefed on my first experiences. She was very supportive and reassuring, so when I asked her for help getting Quinn to latch on the right, she was sweet and helpful. He would latch for a few seconds here and there, but he never did really get the hang of it on that side. On the second day in the hospital, I requested to see a lactation consultant to help me with the right side. Until that point, not one lactation consultant had come into our room - SO different from Banner's hospital stay when we were constantly bothered by these women who wanted to see for themselves what was so wrong with the lady in room 375 (I made that room number up, hell if I know what room we were in - all three different times they moved us that stay)! ;) So, yes, I actually asked to see a nipple nazi! Go figure!

A consultant came to see us on Day 3. When I told her what was going on, she asked which holds I've been trying. I told her cross-cradle and cradle. I told her I was not so comfortable with the "football" hold, so of course, that's where she wanted to start. She actually suggested that hold because she said I'd have more control that way. She evaluated my breasts, and she examined the bruises and blisters I was already getting just a couple days in. Then, she proceeded to evaluate Quinn to see how he was eating. He was so much more willing to work with me than Banner ever was. We were becoming quite a team! But, the consultant helped me set up my pillows behind my back, helped tell Sam what his role would be in helping me manipulate and hold Quinn, discussed best techniques and how I needed to hold his head like this, hold my boob like that, set his feet this way, squeeze my nipple that way, etc. Honestly, it was such a tedious process, and I was so incredibly tired. . . and on pain meds that made me sleepy, hormones that made me sleepy, and allergy meds for my contact dermatitis from epidural tape - I was like a freakin' zombie when she was talking to me. I swear my eyes were closing more than half the time she talked. I'm pretty sure I dozed off with Quinn's head in one of my hands and my breast in the other. Internally, it was pretty funny, too - because I kept wondering if she could tell my head was bouncing around as I nodded off here and there!

I was also getting so frustrated with how much time this was taking, how often I needed to do this, how little Quinn was getting, how to evaluate the fullness of my breasts to know which direction he should be held, how to recognize and analyze the bruises on my nipples to better avoid those areas at the next feeding, etc. It was in this moment that the woman yapped on and on, while my head bounced around and my eyes could not be peeled open, that I decided this was it. I was done. I was in pain, even in the sweet moments I looked forward to when Quinn would latch and get something from my body. I continued to think: Who the hell has time for this crap with a toddler running around at home? I could just see me sitting on the couch at home trying to get all undressed and cozy with Quinn, adjusting my 3 million pillows just right behind my back and under his head, watching his little mouth suckle away while Banner Boone is playing with knives in the kitchen and I can't do a damn thing about it - simply because I wanted to breastfeed my baby. To hell with this! I was ready to call it quits.

I knew Banner was just fine having been fed formula. I have a smart, healthy, happy kid who was bottle and formula fed his whole life. There is nothing wrong with formula. And, I knew my body had been through enough. I knew I was starting to dread feedings much like I did with Banner simply because of the pain my strong sucker was putting me through. (Anyone who feeds him a bottle can feel the tight, strong suck he has... just imagine someone stapling your nipple over and over again every second! I'm just not into that kind of thing!) I knew my relationship and bonding with Quinn was going great - and I didn't want anything to get in the way of that. I was (and am!) so in love with this little boy, and I never wanted to look back on these early days wishing I had enjoyed them more by stopping. So I stopped. I gave it a few more feeds, but by the middle of the night on Day 3  - when I was writhing in pain and tired from all the feeds every hour and a half or so - I woke Sam up and said, "I'm done. Please call the nurse for formula."

I had already told the day nursery nurse that I was considering stopping. She wondered if there was anything they could do to help me - but she never made me feel badly. She informed the new night nurse, Donna, of my possible stopping, so when she came in my room, she was not surprised, she was extremely supportive, and she was prepared to stock my room with formula. She gave me some general guidelines on about how much a baby this age should drink. The most important thing she gave me, though, was reassurance that I was making the right choice. Donna, needless to say, became my very favorite nurse. We chatted about her teenage daughters, the world of dating today, and what a great dad Sam is (ironically, while he slept through my chats with her). She taught me some secrets of swaddling, she gave me great guidelines for formula feeding Quinn the first couple of weeks, but most importantly she gave me support, encouragement, and the ability to talk freely to her about my thoughts, feelings, and reactions to breastfeeding. Sam and I told her what a very different response we had gotten this time around compared to two years ago at the same hospital. We thanked her again and again for her support and understanding. I told her I wish I had had this same response from the nursing staff years ago. She explained that the nurses were told (at the time Banner had been born) to push breastfeeding, yet the hospital was getting a lot of negative feedback from patients because of this. (I know I was one of those patients!) Since then, there has been a shift in how they respond to how parents want to feed their babies. I was grateful to hear this!

My friend's doctor once told her - and she then shared with me - that some women's bodies carry babies well, and some women's bodies can't. Some women can nurse their babies, and some women can't. I'd much rather be in the group that can carry babies well. I'm blessed that I was able to get pregnant and stay pregnant twice, that I carried both of my boys with little problem, that my body took such great care of them both. I was blessed that I had a better experience with Quinn. I will never know how much milk I would have produced with him - I left the hospital in an ace-bandage binding with a sports bra on top to try to suppress my milk supply. I will never know how long I might have gone breastfeeding him or if the process would have become much easier for us (I'm sure it would have). The important thing is that I am emotionally and physically better able to take care of my baby and myself AND our relationship because of my choice. I have learned a lot from the nipple nazis. Mostly, I learned that no matter how a person chooses to nourish her baby, as long as she's happy with that choice, that's all that matters.