By Cathy
When I became pregnant myself I was excited to be able to try out stylish and cool nursing clothing and bras for when my baby arrived. Heavily pregnant, I excitedly shopped for stretchy dresses that had clever methods of letting a breast out to nurse my baby. I bought bras that could hold a pump flange firmly against my breast. I bought nursing covers to give myself privacy. I stocked up on pump supplies, nursing pads, nipple ointment, nursing pillows, breastmilk storage bags, heated gel breast pads. I of course knew the phrase “fed is best” and wholeheartedly agreed, it did not matter how babies are fed… except for my own baby. I was going to breastfeed my baby and that was that.
I snubbed the formula aisle at stores as I knew I didn’t want to use it because even though “Fed is best”, “Breast is best” was also drilled into my head. After all, the OB and hospital walls were plastered with posters about the benefits of breastfeeding and why it is extremely beneficial for your baby. I wanted the absolute best for my baby, and that was breastmilk.
Well, the universe decided to laugh at me. My daughter was diagnosed with failure to thrive as she lost 12% of her bodyweight despite her latching to my breasts almost hourly.
She didn’t sleep and would scream and scream. What was wrong with her? It couldn’t be hunger, she was eating all the time! The pediatrician heard her screams at the office and immediately knew what the issue was. She was hungry. How? She latched perfectly. I gave her the breast constantly. How could she be hungry? The pediatrician offered a bottle of formula to my daughter and she chugged it, and was finally quiet and content for the first time since birth. That’s when I learned about low supply.
For the next 4 months, the only thing I cared about was increasing my supply. I didn’t want to supplement with formula for too long. Just enough to get my supply up. I pumped, nursed, and bottle fed every 3 hours. She would scream of hunger at my breast and my husband would pry her away from my reluctant arms to feed her formula and I would go to a different room to sob. I would cry in the formula aisle of Target as I was “forced” to buy formula since my body couldn’t feed my baby. I took supplements that promised they would increase my supply. I drank a ton of liquid. I ate lactation cookies. I’d let my baby cry as I pumped since I couldn’t hold her and pump at the same time.
I purchased things every few days on amazon to help my pumping journey. I shelled out money for virtual and in person lactation consultants. I had a goal and my focus was 100% on that. I even found groups on Facebook that had links to sketchy websites that would sell you Domperidone, a drug illegal in the USA that is effective at boosting supply. I’m ashamed to admit I considered buying and taking it. It didn’t work. I could never pump more than 1.5oz total out of both breasts. I felt robbed of the bonding experience I was supposed to have with my child. I felt intense anger and jealousy at all the successful nursing moms. I hated seeing nursing rooms as they didn’t apply to me. I bagged up all my nursing clothing as it was just another painful reminder of my feeding journey. I hated my body and considered it a failure.
What finally spurred me to “give up” and wean was the fact that I wasn’t bonding with my daughter. My obsession with increasing my milk supply came at the cost of not being there for my baby. Physically I was pumping and mentally I was thinking about all the ways to increase my supply. I didn’t want that for her. She deserved a mom that was there for her, to play with her, to hold her, and especially to be mentally present – not a mother glued to her phone reading rabbit holes on low supply in Facebook breastfeeding mom groups. She is now an exclusively formula fed baby as I had no choice but to find acceptance and make peace with our reality. She’s happy, gaining weight, and truly does not care where her nutrition comes from. I am in a much better place now, but every now and then the pangs of guilt and sadness of not being able to breastfeed successfully still pop up. The pain doesn’t ever go away completely, even as I wrote this my throat would choke up and I had to take breaks to wipe away tears. But it does get better as I know I made the best decision to be present for my daughter. If you’re in a similar situation, you are not alone and your feelings are valid.
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