Three years ago when my daughter was born, I struggled with nursing every step of the way. I had an emergency C-section and wasn't allowed to hold her for the first three hours, let alone nurse her in what all the books say is a crucial time for nursing success. Instead she got formula for her very first meal, which in later days only perpetuated my stress over being an insufficient food source for my child. My milk didn't come in for three days, my nipples felt like they were on fire, my daughter would chomp down and yank her head back, and for several weeks along the way, she ate every hour during the day and then slept all night long, causing painful engorgement that left me tossing and turning at night. If not for my mom, i don't know if I would have survived that first two weeks. She encouraged me, she was confident that my milk would come in eventually, she gave me a beer and told me to relax. She let me know that it was okay that I was supplementing with formula and that she thought nipple confusion was a myth. She told me that sometimes nursing wasn't for every mom and baby and that there were other options. I could pump and feed her with bottles, I could switch to formula, I could do whatever I wanted and my little girl would live. This wasn't a life and death decision and this one choice would not determine the health and happiness of my daughter as she grew up.
And yet, there were days when my husband would come home from work and find me sitting in the glider with tears streaming down my face as I sobbed that today was the last day I would be nursing ever again. When he tried to be encouraging and tell me I could do it, I would snap back at him that it hurt and I was going to start kicking him in his nuts for 20 minutes straight and see how he liked it! But every time, a few hours would pass and the mommy guilt would set in and I would be right back in that chair, gritting my teeth through the pain. Each day felt like a battle between doing what was best for me and what was best for my kid. Why couldn't I be one of those moms who talk about how amazing and wonderful they felt when they were nursing? What was wrong with me? After I went back to work, even though the actual physical act of breastfeeding was only occurring a couple times a day and the pain only subsided marginally, and I was so mentally disconnected from concept of nursing that I was prepared to quit. I would get stuck in a meeting and forget to pump and gradually my milk supply started to dry up. At daycare, she was getting only one bottle of breastmilk and 2-3 bottles of formula because I couldn't keep up with her. So after exactly six months (that's right, I counted down the days), I was done.
So round two, I was determined to at least give it a try, but if it wasn't working out after one month, I was done. With an active three year-old, I had bigger fish to fry. This time around, I had a scheduled C-Section and a lactation consultant accompanied my son into the recovery area within 20 minutes so that I could begin nursing and I told her all about my previous issues and asked her opinion on my positioning and latch. My milk came in right away, my son was a good nurser, but my nipples still felt as if he was trying to bite them off. Luckily, the lactation consultant visted me each day for the three days I was in the hospital and recommended APNO (All Purpose Nipple Ointment) because my fair skin meant that I had extra sensitive nipples, and the ointment has a bit of numbing agent in it. That stuff was a lifesaver and at two months out, we are doing wonderfully. However, I am now faced with a different challenge. With my first, I avoided breastfeeding in public at all costs because it was such a production, but between my increased comfort/skill and attempting to prevent my daughter from destrying my house, we spend much more time in public. While I don't really mind whipping out my boob in public places (discretly of course!), I've noticed that others aren't as comfortable with it. They give me dirty looks or look completely awkward and stare when they think I'm not looking. My favorite was when I overheard someone say "We're in a RESTAURANT, I'm trying to eat!" Well no shit, so is my kid - get over it and eat your salad.
What I find most entertaining is that I have a huge rack. Not joking - I was a DD in college, which moved to an E after baby #1 and at current nursing size is around the F/G territory. The only shirts that are completely appropriate on me are turtlenecks. I'm used to people staring at my boobs, it's not shocking to me anymore. What I find shocking is that the same guys who stare at my boobs, mentally taking off my shirt, are uncomfortable when I expose a small portion of it to feed my child, or better yet cover myself and the baby completely and they are uncomfortable just imagining what's going on under there! I show less skin while nursing than most girls show at the pool in their bikinis - but because I'm nursing, all of the sudden, it's vulgar or weird.
So the conclusion that I have come to is this: breast, bottle, it doesnt matter - whatever makes you and your baby happy. Is your kid alive? Good - that's the number one goal of parenting - keep the kid alive and happy. How you do that isn't particularly any of my business, as long as you know that I support you in that choice. I'm not going to celebrate you for breastfeeding or thank you for using a bottle in public - my point is that it shouldn't matter what you do - so I'm simply going to celebrate you for making sure that your child is fed. And you're doing a damn fine job.
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