I splashed some of it on the couch this morning and spilled some on the floor. Worse than that, there are a few dozen ounces of it in the freezer that must be thrown away because of possible contamination. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, you may not have been around the breastfeeding community recently. Nurses, lactation consultants, childbirth educators, friends have said on more than one occasion in the last couple of months, “It’s liquid gold.” This is often followed by “Remember, breast is best.” And, “Don’t keep formula in the house or you’ll use it.”
I may have left out the part in my childbirth story when I thought to myself, hmm, I don’t know that I ever need to go through this again. I think that was somewhere between the car door and the hospital. Or maybe it was when the troll woman forced me to sit in a broken wheelchair and hold my leg up in the air as she bumped me into door frames. The point is that I expected childbirth to be painful or at least the greatest challenge of my life. I focused all my will power on getting through it as mindfully and calmly as possible. Breastfeeding, on the other hand, I expected to be easier or at least natural. Friends told me about the challenges that they or their partners faced in nursing, so we did take a class. Still, I felt incredibly unprepared for the journey that is feeding someone from your own body.
The first time I tried to feed my little one was only minutes after birth. It was exhilarating, but strange. We were just getting to know each other and neither of us knew what we were doing. She had all the right impulses, but no head control. I had all the right parts, but no way to guide her. Soon, I was sore and she was off to the nursery. I made it a point to ask that she be in my room as much as possible, and I begged for lessons from nurses and the hospital lactation consultant. They proclaimed that my baby had a high palette and that was making it difficult for both of us. They gave her a pacifier for “suck training” when they had her out of the room without telling me. Then, they flicked the bottoms of her feet and stripped her of her clothes to keep her awake enough to eat when she was with me. Every time I said that it still hurt, they told me that meant I was doing it wrong. “Pull her off. She doesn’t have a good latch.” That meant starting over, which I just couldn’t bear. She was eating. I could survive the pain. After all, I gave birth to her.
By the end of the week, I was in tears. The baby had gained more weight than any doctor could have hoped for and was eating all the time, but I was in pain. Am I a bad mother if I can’t feel okay feeding my baby? I called Polly, the lactation consultant who taught our breastfeeding class, and she saw us early Saturday morning. She worked true magic, correcting the high palette issue with a tilt of the baby’s head and telling me how to nurse myself back to nipple health. So off I went to my new life of feeding around the clock and learning how to pump, which is just as glamorous as it sounds. And to my husband saying that our house looked like a National Geographic special. I’ve never had so much exposure in my life.
Then, came Thrush. I really don’t think it’s necessary to go into the details, but it’s an infection that many babies have at birth, and it can get out of control and spread to the mother. That would be me. It’s a whole different kind of pain I never would have imagined. And for some reason, doctors are not incredibly aggressive about treating it. It’s been three weeks now of fighting it, bleaching bras and bottles, and like I said, having to dump all the “liquid gold” I stored so that I could leave the house for a few hours here and there. I think I got a better treatment plan from my doctor today, and the pediatrician has been helpful. So, hopefully this will all be forgotten soon.
On the flip side of the challenges, I’m always grateful to be able to snuggle with my baby and to nourish her. I’m thankful for the immunities I can provide, especially with news of a deadly flu. And I marvel at the fact that my body can actually do this. I’ve put vinegar in cake batter and cinnamon in scrambled eggs. I’ve made gingerbread dough that is hard as a rock and burned more toast than I’ve eaten. But I can make milk.
I hope you’ll continue to write about new motherhood!
Today I am seven months pregnant. Please please please keep writing about being a new mom. Your birth story was eye opening for both my husband and I as is this one. Good luck!
We men just sit on the sideline and try to be as empathetic and supportive about this unknown as possible. Thanks for sharing the insight. Gotta go hug my wife now. Thanks!
Oh oh oh, I so understand. I had an easy labor, but nine months of pumping…bottlefeeding, pumping, and nursing a newborn is a 24 hour a day endeavor! I would have never guessed it could be so hard. If I had to do it over again, I’d be easier on myself and would try not to focus as much on all the stuff that says “this is best” or “that is best.” There’s a lot of pressure out there. Enjoy your beautiful baby and I hope the thrush ends soon!
The level of guilt and scare tactics associated with breastfeeding makes me SO ANGRY. The first time my baby tasted formula, I wept — I felt like I was pouring rat poison into his gut. And guess what? He lived, and he’s beautifully happy and healthy. (His father was fed formula exclusively, and he has 2 bachelor’s degrees, 2 master’s, and a PhD.)
Don’t get me wrong — I liked breastfeeding! It’s enjoyable, it’s free, and there are no dishes to wash afterwards. But circumstances didn’t always allow for it, so my little guy had some formula along the way.
Guilt is a horrible tactic, indeed. However, I think it’s critical to remember the long history of breast-feeding, and what was once the job of a wet nurse because women (and the men in their lives) considered it uncivilized somehow. Then came Henri Nestle and his formula in 1867 and a world that eventually preferred canned to whole foods. Now it seems a reclaiming process is afoot. Women were told for so long that their breast milk didn’t matter, and we’ve come to remember that, in fact, it is exactly what Cristina calls it– “liquid gold.” I’m not a mother; I’ve never breast fed a baby; but I have heard the horror stories about nipple infections and a baby not wanting to latch on. Either way, I think the general trend of more women trying to breast feed for as long as possible (or as long as makes sense in their lives) is a good and important one.
I’m so excited that this post generated conversation. J.R.G. and Faith, thank you for encouraging me to write more about being a new mom. And Aldo, the fact that this led to a hug for your wife is the greatest compliment. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure whether my experiences would be old hat for those who had been through it and/or trivial for those who hadn’t. So, thank you. And Faith, congratulations! You’re so close to seeing your little one.
Laura and Cassie, I appreciate your empathy and acknowledgment of the intense pressure out there. My mother-in-law visited this weekend and mentioned how sad she was that she couldn’t breastfeed, but all her kids grew up nice and strong (and tall) on Carnation milk! That said– Molly, I too am excited about the trend of re-civilizing breastfeeding. Last night was the first time I did it in public (well-shrouded, of course) and I couldn’t help but wonder what people thought or if they noticed. I was at a talk and had forgotten to bring a bottle, so it was either feed or leave. There’s no ignoring a hungry baby.
Your such a great writer! As I know I feel your pain, luckily, not with thrush, but I have a little biter! I’d love to hear someone comment about the difficulties of pumping. Everytime I do it, I feel like I am cheering at a slot machine…”Come on, come on…big money” and I only get a little bit of liquid gold!
A biter? Yikes! I hope I don’t have that to look forward to. I have a friend who has described a similar experience with pumping. I’m actually having the opposite problem where I feel like I can feed the neighborhood. I guess I shouldn’t call it a problem, but it’s incredibly uncomfortable at times.
Thank you so much for saying that you enjoy my writing.
[...] the Christina Applegate movie. We simply decided to protect the woman who bore us from: news of the Return of the Thrush. It may not be grammatically correct to capitalize the name of the infection or to put [...]