Lactation, Shmactation . . . or Taming the Tiger

As you can probably tell from the title, this is a blog about milk and its source - no, not cows. Breasts.

So, if you think you'll feel uncomfortable reading about the process of feeding a baby "the natural way," or if the idea of me breastfeeding makes you feel uncomfortable, you should probably stop reading now. Should you continue, know that I've tried to soften some parts of the description, but it's also my intention, that if some random woman happens to find my blog one day from a Google search, to provide her an insight into my experience, so that maybe, if she's experiencing the same thing I have, she'll feel a little bit better about herself and her decisions regarding nursing her baby.

And thus, the adventure begins.

I bought a book before giving birth called "The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding." The title is beautiful. The cover of the book, too, features a beautiful red-haired, long-locked woman, cradling her child, looking down on him peacefully, as he happily nurses from her fair-skinned breast. I WISH this could have been our experience thus far.

However, as I told Nadav one of my many tear-filled nights over the last six weeks, "The Womanly ART of Breastfeeding?!? It needs to be called 'The EXTREMELY DANGEROUS AND POSSIBLY PAINFUL SPORT of Breastfeeding!!" This is not to suggest that some women don't: a) succeed at first suckle and go on to have wonderful breastfeeding relationships, b) work through initial mishaps to find a comfortable way of nursing, or c) endure pain (possibly even more than me) and heartache, yet stick it out because of ideological beliefs or possibly will power rivaling that of Helen Keller.

Yet, I think, there are many other women who experience a lot of pain, both physical and emotional, due to this experience - which is SUPPOSED to come so naturally - who decide to wean early because they reach a breaking point. I fall in this group.

My breastfeeding relationship with Ella started about 2 minutes after she was born. Despite being purple, covered in goo, and a bit shocked by her entry into the world, she already had the latch of a champ. Everyone was worried about her nose being the right position to breathe while she nursed the first time, but I could already tell, this girl was not going to let anything keep her from getting a meal. Let's just say if she were one in a litter of puppies, she'd be the one pushing the others out of the way to get dinner.
Blame it on her size at birth (a hefty 4.065 kg, 8 lb 15 oz) , or simply attribute it to a healthy zest for life, but this kid knows what she likes - and she likes a lot of it: Milk.

By the time we left the hospital two days after she was born, the pain and rawness in my nipples had already begun. I "phoned a friend" and gotten some moral support from a friend's mother who is a lactation specialist, but what I needed was face-to-face assistance. Another lactation specialist visited us at home four days post-hospital. What she had to offer was primarily support for my intuition (no need necessarily to time feedings, it's ok to sometimes let your baby sleep with you - you won't roll over her, etc.) and some techniques. It helped us a bit, but all the technique in the world couldn't calm a milk monster of this magnitude.

To make a long story short, the daily, sometimes hourly test of my will power and pain tolerance continued for a grand total of three and a half weeks before I broke down and gave her a bottle of formula. The morning I gave her the bottle, it was like she knew that I'd reached a low point, and she looked up at me as if to say, "Mommy, it's ok. Ripping this bottle's nipple in half won't be half as much fun as ripping YOUR nipples in half, but I forgive you." But on a serious note, she DID look at me as I spoke to her while giving her the bottle, and it made me realize that you can breastfeed with love, but you can also give a bottle with love. Of course, this is an idea I would have quickly and easily imparted to a friend in need, but it took me a while to understand it myself, to internalize it, to feel ok about it and not feel somehow ashamed or embarrassed at myself for making this decision.

In the meantime, I tried to keep breastfeeding while also pumping milk for her and supplementing with formula every once in a while, and my reward for my good intentions was mastitis, a breast infection. After this, I actually decided to try to suppress my milk production and move entirely to formula, which in hindsight was not the best decision. I'm paying for this now with a lower milk supply than I previously had, but like they say, hindsight is 20/20.

After taking antibiotics and recovering from the infection, I finally saw the lady who would help me make the wisest decision I've made thus far regarding breast feeding: taking a break from breastfeeding, pumping milk for Ella and supplementing with formula when necessary. I knew upon my first conversation with her that her holistic approach to the whole process, and openness to me breastfeeding for years or weaning immediately, was right for me. Ella and I visited her and discussed our situation and all our options, and here we are today, me in one piece and Ella growing like a weed - both of us happy.

This saga seems to have a happy ending - Nadav once described Ella's latch on my breast as similar to "one of those National Geographic specials where the tiger takes out an antelope in the wilderness." Well, my dear milk monster, it seems you have been sated and my breasts will live to see another day.