The Battle of the Breastfeed (2014-2015)

Some people literally LOVE a bit of breastfeeding. They love talking about it, they love preaching about it, they love wapping a boob out all over the place and showing everyone how it is done. And why shouldn’t they…. It’s a pretty amazing biological mechanism and there’s no getting away from the fact that it provides the optimum nutrition for your baby. It’s composition changes as your baby grows and develops, which blows my mind a little bit. But I like to call those people the Kriss Akabusi Breastfeeders. Generally nice people, but pretty over the top, in your face and at times (most of the time), irritating. I had and have zero desire to be a Kriss Akabusi Breastfeeder. I aspire to be more of a Paula Radcliffe Breastfeeder (less imposing, good stamina and not adverse to having a wee at the side of the road if it gets the job done).

Kriss

Paula - getting the job done. 

I HATE it when I have to breastfeed in public. I dread it. It makes me feel vulnerable. Why does it make me feel vulnerable? BECAUSE I AM GETTING MY BREAST OUT IN A PUBLIC PLACE. There are people. And there is my bare breast. People I don’t know…. And my breast. Which is bare. I feel really envious of people who don’t find it nerve wracking and can do it really subtly.

The first time I breastfed (in the recovery room after my Caesarean), I remember it feeling like a teeny tiny Dyson was suctioning at my nipple. Then when the spinal anesthetic and morphine wore off, I very clearly remember it feeling like someone had packed the Dyson neatly away and replaced it with a sprightly team of builders carrying out some building works on my nipple. One of them was boring down into my nipple with a jackhammer and another was vigorously sandpapering the shit out my nipple skin. One of my favourite parts was when The Baby finished feeding, a small bubble of blood surfaced. Good times.

Dyson Suction Device

Probably because of the drugs and the general shock of having a baby pulled out of my uterus that morning, it didn’t particularly concern me at the time. Wasn’t really sure if it was just par for the course to begin with. But then 3 hours later you have to feed again. And then 3 hours later you have to feed again. And then 3 hours later you have to feed again. 24/7.

There are very lucky people who have no problems with breastfeeding at all and it’s perfect from the start. If that is you… feel incredibly blessed. I really do mean that. Because when it does not happen that easily, it is horrible.

It’s very true what they say about how you lose all inhibition when you have a baby. I still firmly believed I would be the exception to this rule because a) I was having a caesarean so no one would be poking around in my lady canal and there would be no baby traffic passing along it and b) I have always been REALLY funny about all of my private places. However in less than 3 hours after having The Baby, I was welcoming healthcare professionals to any of my private places with open arms and legs.

Although I had no recollection (drugs), The Man took great delight in reminding me how whilst having a bed bath, I was given the option of either washing my lady garden area myself or having the nice nurse lady do it for me. I smiled at her and said ‘help yourself’. I cannot convey using words from the English language how unlike me that is.

Also fascinating how quickly you get used to a stranger massaging milk out of your boob and collecting it in a tiny syringe. Oh yes… that’s what had to happen next. Unable to stand any further building works to my nipple, I had to hand massage the milk out. But I struggled to do it myself… so an amazing lady sat with me and helped me. The astounding patience and reassurance of that lady will stay with me forever and still brings a bit of a tear to my eye today. She had all the time in the world for me and helped me for hours. (Just to clarify… this wasn’t a random lady off the street who liked massaging boobs. She was a midwife assistant.) She was the person who suggested The Baby may have a tongue tie (more of this later) and she was the person that encouraged The Man to go to the local Boots and buy me some nipple shields, which from this point forth I shall call the God Shields. The God Shields made it bearable. Still painful, but bearable. Thank god for the God Shields.

With the God Shields, I just about managed to get to a point where they would discharge me from hospital (this will only happen once feeding is ‘established’). I couldn’t have been more over the moon to be leaving the hospital. I hoped that in my own home, I would feel more calm and under less pressure and the feeding would improve. And there were many more biscuits available at home.

Unfortunately it didn’t. And so began a soul destroying pattern. I would dread each feed to the pit of my stomach. To the point where I would try to delay it in stupid ways like going for a wee first, or taking my jumper off more slowly. Literally anything to delay it. Like work avoidance… but with much more desperation. I got very angry if she was hungry too soon, because I found it so hard to face another 20-40 minutes of toe curling pain. Sometimes I would have to bite down on my clenched fist and sometimes I would just cry whilst she fed, because I didn’t know what to do anymore. The fact that this was occurring at least 10 times in a 24 hour period, sometimes for 40-50 minutes at a time meant there was never any respite. Do not underestimate the toll that takes on your mental health, at a time when you are also hugely sleep deprived, hugely hormonal and solely responsible for a tiny human. It got to the point where The Man had to leave the room during feeding, because he couldn’t bear to see how much pain I was in and at times, he begged me to bottle-feed.

I finally plucked up the courage to go to a Breastfeeding Support Group. In my head, this would be a place where lots of Kriss Akabusi Breastfeeders would sit in a circle, wearing long flowing leaf-print skirts with their breasts out, talking about breastfeeding, reading books about breastfeeding and generally loving the breastfeeding, whilst their slightly older children completed a breastfeeding puzzle book for fun. This is about as un-me as it gets, so I was really nervous. Particularly as in my eyes… I was failing completely at breastfeeding. But I was the only person at the group, a nice lady called Jan gave me a mince pie and a cup of tea (WIN!) and within about 2 minutes of watching me breastfeed, had made two tiny adjustments that meant I experienced a completely pain free feed. Jan was my hero. Unfortunately at home, I couldn’t seem to replicate this. Even when I assumed the exact same position (we’d taken a photo to make sure), it hurt like hell.

I was devastated. I was desperately tired. I had never felt like such a failure in my life. The ONE thing I needed to be good at and I couldn’t achieve it. And I couldn’t understand why or what it was that I was getting wrong. Lots of health professionals had observed me feeding and told me my positioning was great and the latch looked good. But it was still the most pain I had experienced. I still didn’t want to give in, despite spending a lot of feeds in tears. I felt that if I gave up I would be letting everyone down, including my baby.

Perhaps what made it all the more difficult was the fact that it would get better sometimes and I would think and hope I’d finally cracked it. I would tell the midwives and health visitors that it was improving. The Baby was putting on weight despite the problems, so they were happy. Then out of the blue it would revert back to being really painful. And every time this happened, I would be more and more distraught, frustrated and angry. I was so sore that it hurt to even have clothes on. I had to hunch over when I wrapped a towel around me to have a shower so there was no rubbing, because it felt like poker-hot daggers. Even the water in the shower made me flinch. We were giving The Baby one bottle of formula in the evening to give me a bit of a rest and I can vividly remember using this time to stand in the shower for 5 minutes, lean against the wall and have a little cry by myself. I was pretty desperate.

At around this time, it was also suggested to me by a few people that I may want to try and not use the God Shields if I could manage it, because it may mean The Baby wasn’t getting enough milk, or was taking in too much air, or wouldn’t ever be able to latch on without them. This added more pressure, but despite the additional pain I stopped using them because I was so worried about it. I scoured the internet for help, advice and pictures. We tried every breastfeeding position known to man and sometimes it would work, but unfortunately mostly it would not. I had tried expressing, but because it was still early days, it sent my milk production into overdrive and I ended up producing enough milk for a small country.

Around 4 weeks had passed now. I’d been given advice like ‘don’t give up!’ and ‘keep going - lots of people say it suddenly gets better around 6 weeks.’ In my head, that meant at least another 2 weeks of painful feeds. That’s approximately 140 more feeds. I didn’t feel like I could handle it mentally or physically.

One evening, I called the National Breastfeeding Helpline and spoke to an amazing lady over the phone. I described what was happening and she suggested that The Baby might have a tongue-tie. The day The Baby was born, a couple of the midwives had said she had one, but by the time they discharged me, they looked again and said The Baby had broken it by herself. The NBH lady said this was almost impossible and I should try to get a referral to have it checked and snipped if there was one.

I got a referral pretty quickly and 3 days later was at the hospital. The consultant took one look and confirmed a tongue-tie. He snipped it there and then. I’m not going to lie, it was quite traumatic to watch, but I knew it was for the greater good and it was over and done with in 2 minutes. I fed her straight afterwards and it did not hurt. I was overcome with relief.

Unbelievably, this did not last. I couldn’t believe it. I felt very, very low and was the closest I had been to giving up. In fact, I desperately wanted to give up so I could just enjoy my baby and not dread her being hungry. But there is a HUGE amount of pressure. Overt and subtle. Probably more noticeable to someone in my position sure, but it’s there. I understand why it is there, because breast milk is optimum for your baby. But it was a massive contributor to the immense amount of pressure and stress I was feeling.  

I returned to the breastfeeding support group and was told that it can still take a couple of weeks after a tongue-tie to improve as the baby learns how to suck in a new way. I understood, but was again devastated that I had to endure more.

It was at this point that I had a new health visitor come round. My old one had left. She was a breath of fresh air. Down to earth, funny and realistic. She was the only person to recognize my desperation. I remember her exact words to me:

‘If you need my permission to give up and use formula, you don’t need it, but you have it. You are not doing a disservice to your baby or anyone else. You have given it more than a good go and it is just as important that your baby has a happy, healthy mother.’

I quite literally could have wept into her arms. That’s all I had needed to hear.

I suppose and appreciate that health professionals worry about saying this to women, because it is their job to promote breastfeeding. She told me that she too believed there was too much pressure on women, right from pregnancy. Too much pressure and not enough preparation for the difficulties you can encounter with breastfeeding. The purpose of this pressure I suppose, is to not scare mothers off and prevent them from having a go. But I think that’s wrong. I think that being adequately prepared will empower many mothers and encourage them to keep going when the road is not smooth. I know that if I had been better prepared for the possible troubles and experienced less pressure, I would not have felt like such a failure.

And, contrary to what most people - even myself - would expect, her words did not make me immediately drop the breastfeeding and turn to formula. It actually spurred me on and gave me confidence. I decided I would give it two more weeks so that The Baby had a chance to recover and progress from the tongue-tie procedure and if it was no better, I would stop.

Gradually, 8-10 weeks after giving birth, it got less painful and a lot easier. I can now wap her on and off my boob with the best of them. And it’s lovely. It truly is. I’m glad I persevered.**

I want this to be a positive message. KNOW that it might not go perfectly, but also know that it is beyond worth it if you can persevere. Some people don’t struggle at all, some people struggle for a few days, some a few weeks. I think my situation was unusual because it took so long to identify and rectify the tongue-tie, but I am also grateful that I did not develop mastitis like some mothers I know.

But perhaps more importantly, know that you truly are not a failure if you cannot breastfeed. Not even close.

If you are going to have a go at breastfeeding, my advice would be to read about it and learn about it as much as you can. Talk to people who have breastfed and talk to people who have bottle-fed. Be aware that there will be pressure to breastfeed, but trust your own mind and your own decisions. Also know that there are people (a lot of truly amazing and patient people) and products that really can help if you have any problems. My recommendations:

·      The best nipple cream ever invented by man: https://www.lansinoh.co.uk/products/hpa-lanolin Always have it. Always. It’s worth every penny. I would have paid triple for it.

·      The best breastfeeding support group: West Pottergate Health Centre on Thursday mornings.

·      The God Shields: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Medela-Contact-Nipple-Shields-Small/dp/B001UFB52G If you need to use them, use them. They are life savers. I can’t speak for all babies, but mine did not have any problems when I took them away.

·      The National Breastfeeding Helpline: http://www.nationalbreastfeedinghelpline.org.uk They have an online chat service as well, which is brilliant.

·      There are Breastfeeding Peer Supporters at the hospital. You might have to ask for them, but it’s worth it.

So am I Pro-Breastfeeding? No. I’m Pro-‘Do Whatever It Is You Need To Do To Keep You And Your Baby Happy And Healthy.’ I’m Pro-‘Being Supportive Of Each Other’ and I’m Pro-‘Less Pressure, More Preparation.’

**Please Note: I am still not a Kriss Akabusi Breastfeeder though.