A girlfriend of mine is pregnant with her second, a boy due in December wants to breastfeed this time, and she asks what B (my 3.5 year old) thinks of AJ (his 7.5 month old brother) being exclusively breastfed, and how did he adjust to seeing me feed his brother from my breast – all the time. Truth be told; B has the biggest heart of anyone and he will gladly tell you, “baby eats boob!” if you ask him what babies eat. B adjusted to AJ’s arrival impeccably to no surprise. B always adjusts to things well. Except for birth, we had trouble with that.
A non-stress test indicated, as well as, a fetal monitor confirmed regular contractions, never more terrified in all 23 years of life up until that point and confused as to what any of this really met, moreover, too terrified to question any medical professional.
After 36 hours of regular, but insignificant contractions, a nurse prepped me for an emergency C-section. B’s heart rate was irregular now, but my body was not reacting to contractions the way it should. Now, I was even was more terrified, convinced B would be safer on the outside, then inside of what by all accounts is a hostile living environment. On February 3, 2010, at 36 weeks Brandon was born. He weighed 5 pounds and 13 ounces, and his placenta removed 20% from the uterine wall since 22 weeks. As for myself, after one minor panic attack, and 5 minutes of the strangest tugging sensation ever, I heard that most phenomenal sound I have ever heard in my life: his first cry. They held him over the blue dividing blanket; I cried; he cried, and my husband cut the umbilical cord. He passed his Apgar with excellence and whisked away to be cleaned and poked some more. Twenty minutes later, his father brought him into the room. He was adorable and tiny, complete with pacifier and all. I did not think anything of it, until a nurse impolitely told me to breastfeed him quickly, “So he can eat.” I was hurt, and even though she never explained why (in fairness, we never asked) I thought she should be right, after all, he was so tiny and this must be what they do.
I did tell the nurses I wished to breastfeed, so they sent a woman in to show me a position and a latch one time. She was short with her directions and obviously hurried with no time for questions.
At home, and exhausted, in pain and increasingly depressed, I tried to latch B again and again according to the hospital’s recommended “schedule” and time frame but only met with a tiny infant who screamed until his face turned red. My heart ached for him. Someone with good intentions suggested I pump, to relieve the insane engorgement happening due to the lack of B nursing and the unknown oversupply problem. This exasperated the problem, unbeknownst to me. In combination with supplementation of artificial milk: we were doomed. Back then, there was no Facebook support page or group; I didn’t even know a lactation consultant was a thing!
After one month of giving it what my mom calls, “my best effort” and being reminded that, “some is better than none,” we decided to switch B to artificial milk full time. From there begin the stomach issues: constipation, gas, as well as skin issues: itchy eczema in the cold months, as well as poor eating habits and quite possibly the loss of a connection we were meant to have. Realistically, I’ll never know if the bottle feeding over breastfeeding has anything to do with these ailments and they could just be coincidence and bad learned behavior but the breastfeeding mom doesn’t have to question, “what if…” and that is in, and of its self a relief.
I decided to try it again and I mean – REALLY – I set out to find out as much as I could about breastfeeding when I was expecting our second in early 2013.
It is because of this and the best advice I (never) got for which I am convinced, we have been successful this long. The birth stories are almost verbatim, even the same hospital (I know; I know but how can I truly compare and contrast without two experiences 
)
On February 8, 2013, at 37 weeks Anthony James was born. He weighed 6 pounds and 2 ounces and as for myself, after one minor panic attack, and 5 minutes of the strangest tugging sensation ever, I heard that most phenomenal sound I have ever heard in my life: his first cry. They held him over the blue dividing blanket; I cried; he cried, and my husband cut the umbilical cord. He passed his Apgar with excellence and whisked away to be cleaned and poked some more. Twenty minutes later, his father brought him into the room. He was adorable and surprisingly plump. We had placed him to the breast before I made it back to our room, while I was still in recovery, and he latched well!
During our second stay, instead of judgment and snide remarks from nurses, they turned a blind eye when they walked in on us co-sleeping in the hospital bed, and read the chart of timed feeds per breast in correlation to wet and dirty output, with glee. Not one single soul mentioned artificial milk to us, nor did anyone offer us/insist we take samples home. Everyone respected the goals: short term one month, long term 6 months, and some even called me to praise.
At home, we ditched the schedule and kept feeding on demand. By the second week, I yelled at my husband to, “Just give him formula!” but he refused. He stays with me the entire time and is one of my greatest supporters. We saw a lactation consultant in order to get help with the same overactive letdown/over supply issue that nearly choked mine and Anthony’s breastfeeding relationship out for good, and which ruined mine and B’s breastfeeding relationship. While we were at the lactation consultant’s home-office, she looked at AJ on my breast and said to me,
“That baby loves breastfeeding!”
In that moment, I was changed as I looked at him and could not disagree.
“That baby loves breastfeeding!”
I remind myself of the words whenever things get overwhelming (and they still do from time-to-time), and I feel such a sense of calm come over me.
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