breast is best

Breast is best. That was the single most repeated phrase I heard from the moment I became pregnant to now. From the moment I registered at the hospital at about 12 weeks into the pregnancy until about two weeks after the twins were born I must have heard and read that phrase at hundreds of times from dozens of sources - ranging from nurses to friends who had successfully nursed their own babies, along with countless books and pamphlets.

I knew I wanted to breastfeed my babies before I even knew I was pregnant. My goal has always been to do my absolute best to exclusively breastfeed any children I might have for the first six months of their lives. All of the information indicates that breast is indeed best. It seems to be nutritionally superior, more convenient (no need for washing and sterilizing and carrying around bottles and formula), more economical (savings of up to $2000-$3000), and helps create a stronger bond between mother and child. I've also always thought that breastfeeding would be the most natural and easiest thing in the world. It turns out I was mistaken about that last part.

While recovering at the hospital (who am I kidding - hospitals are no place for recovery) I saw at least half a dozen nurses / lactation consultants who were there to help ensure my babies were latching on properly and breastfeeding was going well. Each nurse had a slightly different technique, repeatedly correcting the tips I put in place from the previous nurse's visit. Each nurse managed to make me feel, in my hormone overloaded post-partum state, that I was doing it all wrong. Feelings of failure and inadequacy were extremely high in those few days. I was a new mother caring for two babies while trying to recover from a painful surgery. I was clueless and felt helpless. Not a single nurse provided encouragement - only harsh and cold correction. My tears were running like a full-flowing tap.

During those first days at the hospital the twins would nurse on my breasts for a short while and then I would have to supplement with some formula in a tiny plastic measuring cup. Bottles with nipples were not allowed in the hospital for fear the infants would suffer from nipple confusion and end up refusing mother's breast in favour of the much easier bottle nipple. BabyB ended up losing more weight than was acceptable and I began to panic about how little she was getting from my breasts. There were threats about keeping us in the hospital longer if she didn't begin to regain some of that weight immediately. I began to increase the amount of formula I was using to supplement. We were released after 72 hours of their birth and much begging from both J and me.

After much frustration (for me and the girls) with maintaining that same feeding routine, my nipples cracked and bled, despite a good latch from both of them. Both BabyF and BabyB have wonderful appetites and BabyB sometimes liked to play a catch and release game with my nipples. She seemed to entertain herself by yanking her head back while suckling on a nipple until the nipple popped out of mouth and then violently lunging back on and chomping hard on the nipple again - repeatedly. BabyF also liked to chomp down hard. Sensitivity led to cracked nipples until the nipples looked like they'd been scraped against a cheese grater. The pain during their feedings had me in tears and I began to dread the approach of feeding time.

By the time they were two weeks old, I was incapable of handling the pain and had to remove BabyB from my breast at the beginning of a feeding session and feed her that entire meal with formula. I sobbed. I felt I had failed my daughters and wasn't providing what was best for them. Tremendous guilt washed over me and a dark cloud of sadness and worthlessness hung over me constantly. I was a horrible mother and a fool to think I could be a good mother.

I made my first difficult parenting decision. It was time to take a break from breastfeeding in order to allow my nipples to heal. I would continue pumping as often as possible and feed them my milk in a bottle while still supplementing with formula. I had a manual pump and ended up getting out a pitiful ounce per day. More tear-filled days and nights ensued. I went out and rented an electrical pump and started taking specific herbs to help increase my milk production. Within a day I went from pumping 20ml to 85ml. Within a few days after that I managed to pump 220ml in a full day. I spoke to friends with infants of their own who had been struggling with breastfeeding also and felt much better with their uplifting words and advice. Despite my sore nipples, I finally felt encouraged. This was still not enough to nourish them, but it was enough for one full feeding for both of them. I finally came to accept that this would be enough if it was the best I could do. The dark cloud lifted.

The healthcare community should take a long hard look at their approach. A new mother is often filled with insecurities with emotions running high. She doesn't need harsh criticism and strict rules. She needs encouragement and options. I've been very lucky to have the ability to accept my decision that goes against the very aggressive advice of every nurse and several well-meaning friends and family members. I am very fortunate and grateful to have the support of my husband, my mother, and of a few close friends. Without them, I would still be walking around with that dark cloud of guilt over me.

Happy mom = happy baby... and vice versa.