On Failure...

When I was pregnant with Addy, I promised myself that I would give breastfeeding a 100% try. I had always regretted not really trying with John. I stick to my decision to choose sanity over breastfeeding back then, but I wish that I could have tried. It was just too much in a sea of "too much" and something had to give. I was totally OK with it at the time though.

This time I did my research. I read endless amounts of articles, blog posts, pamphlets, and took a breastfeeding class. When Addy was born she took to it immediately and we were off. It felt natural.

Except it wasn't. Her latch was so shallow that it hurt and she was feeding so often that I was in agony. I met with every single lactation consultant they had while I was in the hospital, I talked with every nurse. The latch never fully improved.

By the time we got home, I was overwhelmed. Addy needed to be fed, John needed something that only I could do, I was trying to do everything I normally did. It was too much. That night, when the thought of feeding her was too much to think of, I gave her a bottle. Which was probably my first mistake, but I'll stick by that one too. In the world of Motherhood, I will always choose sanity over what's "the right thing to do".

My next mistake, was I stayed liked this. I kept giving her bottles so that I could heal. I read somewhere that I shouldn't pump so early because it would just lead to an oversupply and engorgement (which is almost laughable now), so I didn't. I did nothing for a few days until I said, "wait a minute, you promised yourself you would try this" and then I panicked.

I set up a meeting with a lactation consultant, but by then it had already been a week. I knew I wasn't producing much, but at least her latch had somehow got better. But we had a fight ahead of us. So I tried 100%.

I baked lactation cookies. Which are by far the most delicious cookies I have ever made, but I ate about a million of them and gained like 5 pounds in a week!

I also started to eat whatever other foods they said I should. Oatmeal and spinach were a part of my daily diet. I also started taking supplements. Fenugreek, Blessed Thistle, Red Raspberry Leaf. I was taking something ridiculous, like 9 vitamins a day. I spent a ton of money.

I also rented a hospital grade pump and pumped away. My sweet cherub had decided that she didn't have time for me. She wanted her food when she wanted it and I took too long. And didn't have enough. So she refused. So all day long, I fed her, then pumped, fed her, pumped, fed her, pumped some more. I couldn't go anywhere because I was always too close to the next "pump" and I was barely getting enough in as it was. 

But it still wasn't working. I pumped and pumped and pumped and would get excited when I finally had enough to give her a decent sized bottle (but it was never a full feeding)

This bottle. This ONE OUNCE of breastmilk, took my 7 pumps. SEVEN. Two of them were "power pumps", which is when you pump for 20 minutes, stop for 10, pump for 10, stop for 10, and then pump for a final 10 to finish out the house. So that was three hours of pumping. For an ounce. 

I finally started taking medication. Domperidone, which was suggested by my lactation consultant. I'm embarrassed to say that I had to order this boot leg, from some company in a far away land, because you can't get it in the United States. I did my research, weighed my pros and cons, researched the company, and decided that this was the best decision for me.

Let me just back up for a second. I was SO set on breastfeeding, that I thought ordering pills from an overseas online pharmacy was the best decision for me.

OK, moving on.

I got my pills the day before we left for vacation, so I started taking them and used my free time and extra hands to pump. And pump. And pump. My vacation was spent planned around my pump schedule. It was terrible, but I was determined.

And then it got to be too much. Two weeks later, I still was barely producing 2 ounces a day (which WAS an improvement, but still was only half a feeding). She still wouldn't latch because I wasn't as cool as a bottle. I was always telling my toddler to wait because I was pumping. Or I couldn't get to her when she needed me because I was pumping. I started to resent it. It was too much, too hard. It was supposed to be "natural". It wasn't. 

Then I got a nasty bout of mastitis and ended up in severe pain with a 103 fever. My mom had to come over to take care of the kids because I couldn't.

So, I let it go. This right here is the last bottle of breastmilk.

I'm heartbroken to be honest. I really wanted this to work for us. I really, truly enjoyed the moments when it WAS working and we had that connection. I wanted to give her what was "best". I wanted her to have the extra push to her immune system for when she had to start daycare so early. 

It's kind of pathetic the emotions I'm going through. Of feeling like a failure. As a Mother. As a Woman. Wondering why my body doesn't work like it is supposed to. Wondering what I could have done more. Done better. Feeling depressed when I walk by the aisle of breastfeeding supplies when I'm at the store. Seeing posts online from woman who are successful (since I filled my newsfeed with them for support). When I'm asked by someone why I'm giving her a bottle of formula instead of nursing her. It's heartbreaking. 

I know that this was the right decision for us. It was becoming frustrated and I needed to stop to be a better Mom. Plus, this schedule would not have worked when I go back to work in a couple of weeks. I KNOW in my bones that this was the right decision. It doesn't mean it doesn't suck though. That it isn't isolating to be feeling all of this when no one else really seems to get it. (Besides my mom who will always listen and feel what I'm going through)

This Mom Guilt. I'm telling you. It's rough.