I want to tell you about the day I "quit" nursing. Although 89% of Canadian mothers start out nursing their babies, as I did, only 26% continue nursing for six months or more (Stats Canada) . When my daughter was a month old, I joined the 63% of Canadian women who didn’t continue nursing. Here’s why.
When I was pregnant with Gemma I was determined to exclusively nurse her. I’m educated, health-conscious and always up for saving a buck, so the “breast is best” mantra had fully sunk in. But I also knew from mom friends who had gone before me that nursing was challenging, so I did everything I felt I could to set myself up for nursing success: I read The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding and any other information I could get my hands on; I scoped out the best lactation consultant in town and had her number on my fridge; I even refused to have any bottles, soothers or formula in my home because I feared “nipple confusion” and how, as some research suggests, I’d “give up” if a can of formula was found in my pantry.
I had it all figured out.
I was only feeding my daughter the best.
Until reality smacked me in the face on a cold day in January 2013 when my sweet Gemma was born -- two weeks early, by emergency c-section, after a harrowing ultrasound revealed she had been in fetal distress and was in the 3rd percentile for weight. It was a classic case of she’ll do better on the outside than in...and labouring with her was not an option.
Born healthy and tiny at 5 lbs 9 oz, Gemma was completely adorable and completely unable to latch. Because of her small size, she didn’t have a strong suck. Within the first few hours of her birth I saw lactation consultants, I pumped, and I cup fed colostrum into Gemma’s mouth, but the nursing was not happening. Four days later, the hospital lactation consultant sent me home with a nipple shield, a $500 breast pump and strict orders to feed my tiny baby every three hours at least (even to the point of setting an alarm and waking her in the middle of the night). While the nipple shield helped her to latch and I pumped as much as I could, in the weeks following her birth her weight dropped to 5 lbs -- my doctor was concerned; I was terrified and exhausted (not to mention still very sore from the c-section). When he suggested I supplement with formula, my heart sank, but I knew we had to do it -- I had convinced myself my baby was starving to death. On the way home from that doctor’s appointment my mom and I stopped by the drug store and bought a few bottles and a can of formula. I also made an appointment with the lactation consultant whose number was waiting on my fridge.
If you’ve supplemented before, you know it can feel like a bit of three-ring circus. I would fumble with the nipple shield, nurse Gemma, top her up with a bottle of formula and, if I had the energy, pump to try to mix some breastmilk in with the formula (and to maintain supply). By the time I had finished feeding and changing her, it was time for me to nurse again. There was no time to go to the bathroom, shower, eat or in any way take care of myself. I kept this up for another week until I met with the local consultant who assured me I would be able to nurse despite my low supply/crappy boobs (my words, not hers) but we really had to get my daughter up to 7lbs to really have success--Gemma was six pounds that day. Getting her to gain another pound felt like an impossible feat, like climbing Mount Everest without any preparation. The consultant’s recommendation was to do the nurse-bottle-pump-dance eight times a day until her weight was up and then we would meet again to fix the latch issues. She also recommended a formula that she felt was as close to breast milk as they could get, and gave me some samples to take home. Although I left feeling discouraged -- even the lactation consultant said I needed to formula feed!-- this ended up being a blessing in disguise.
At this point I was exhausted, and in the appointment I broke down, telling her there was no way I could pump after each feed. It would be impossible considering my current energy level (and emotional state). In fact, some post-partum depression was starting to set in. Due to my c-section I hadn’t been able to drive Gemma anywhere for weeks. And since I am pretty independent, it was hard relying on my mom and mom-in-law to get anything done or to get anywhere. Not to mention facing all the other overwhelming growing pains any new mom feels.
The next evening as we were bathing Gemma, I cried more than I had since she had been born. I was exhausted and hated being a mom. I loved my daughter but the output of energy required was untenable, and I was starting to have an emotional breakdown. My husband, bless him, wasn’t sure what to do, so, like any good husband, he told me to call my mom. On the phone that night I cried and cried, feeling so helpless and scared for my tiny baby. My mom was straight and to the point, “Dion, you need to go into the kitchen and make that baby a bottle of formula. Tonight, do not nurse her. Have Matt do all the feedings and you sleep. We can figure this out in the morning.”
You see, my mom had faced a similar situation with my older brother -- a five pound baby, a horrible delivery, a terrible latch -- and ended up formula feeding him from early on. Although she wanted me to have the same kind of success she’d had nursing me, her second child, she could see the toll nursing was taking on me.
I slept well that night, and began to supplement more and more with formula as I felt I needed to. A few days following I had an appointment with the doctor to check on Gemma’s weight, and despite still feeling down about motherhood, Gemma became more content with each bottle (her belly was finally satisfied!). I could see a ray of hope that our situation would turn around, provided I kept with the formula feeding.
But, I was nervous telling the doctor I wanted to drop the breast feeding. If I knew “breast was best”, than he, the medical professional, certainly did. What would he think of me as a mother? Wouldn’t he scold me about the long-term ramifications on her health to formula feed her?
After I told him, with teary-eyes, about the nurse-bottle-pump scenario, he asked me, bluntly, “So Dion, what are you going to do? Which are you going to choose? Breast or bottle? You can’t keep this up forever.” He could tell I wasn’t doing well emotionally. Thank God for him, that he actually cared about MY emotional health and how it would affect my child, not just what the textbooks say about breastfeeding. When I told him I wanted to just formula feed, he said enthusiastically, “Sounds good. Remember, we aren’t in the developing world. You have access to the best formulas for Gemma. She will be just fine.” I was shocked by his response.
That was the last day I nursed.
And the first day I really feel like I enjoyed motherhood.
And guess what, Gemma turned out just fine; in fact, she’s better than fine. She’s healthy, brilliant, securely attached and full of personality.
It would be easy to pass this post off as “pro-formula” and for some to comment about how much harder I could’ve tried, why the doctor shouldn’t have suggested supplementing, and so on -- but I guess I’ve discovered that ultimately, what I feed my newborn -- breast or bottle -- isn’t the most significant factor in my child’s healthy development. But rather, a happy functioning home is.
Fortunately, in twelve weeks I get to give birth to another little munchkin, who I intend to.... NURSE! But this time, I won’t beat myself up if it doesn’t work out as planned.
To loving our babies and ourselves well,
♥ Dion
Stay tuned for part two: why what you feed your newborn doesn’t really matter.
