Back to my very own personal experience and decision about breastfeeding vs. bottlefeeding.  The first part can be read here.

This is not intended to sway any mom towards one method of feeding nor another, merely to encourage anyone who feels guilt over a decision they have made.

My son’s delivery was difficult at best.  Granted, I felt nothing thanks to my blessed epidural.  Then came the immediate time to feed, the, uh, baby.  Ouch.  It was not as easy as it looked.  Why did it look so easy to everyone?  Ahhhhh!

I was in significant pain for various unnamed reasons, then having to figure out the breastfeeding thing was challenging.  Each nurse, while so kind and helpful, had a different approach.  The lactation consultant was wonderful, I really liked her.

Towards the end of our two-day stay, my son began to get jaundiced.  This is not uncommon, but it also meant we had to come back the next day for another blood test to see if he would need the special lights.  We headed home where I was left wondering why I had no nurse-call button for breastfeeding help.

Rats.

To make matters even better, as soon as my husband left to get various items from a local department store, the power went out and the baby started crying to eat.  I waddled gingerly as fast as I could looking for candles and holed myself up in our bedroom for privacy to try to figure this thing out that all the momma’s in the rest of the world could seem to do so easily.  (Sensing bitterness?  Yes, I was bitter at the time.)

The next day we returned to the hospital for another heel stick, but it was clear even without it that G would need the bili-lights.  (sp?)  He was pretty yellow and did not awaken at all for a feeding the entire time at the hospital and even when he did that day, it was hard to keep him awake.  (Side effect of condition)

Can we say engorged?

My husband became an instant expert in breastpumps, bless his heart.  Even those contraptions did nothing to relieve the almighty discomfort.  G was supplemented in the meantime.  My friend J, a mother-baby nurse, suggested ice-cold cabbage right on the breasts for a few minutes to relieve pain and something in them helps – no joke.  It works. Perfect fit if you are engorged, too, by the way.

The home health nurse brought the light box and the next few days revolved around waking him up every two hours for a routine of temp checking, diaper changing, feeding, etc.  I got lectured from her about how to feed, too.  Another check in the box for bad mom.  I was instructed to hold him away from me if I supplemented so he would not associate the bottle with comfort.  To this day, I regret doing that.  My baby deserved and needed love – supplemental feeding or not.

Such a sleep cycle, physical pain from birth and engorgement, and guilt that I was not succeeding in breastfeeding was taking its toll on me.  My mental state slid downhill (yes, towards postpartum depression).  I called one friend, then another…was it bad if I stopped?  How do I keep doing this?  Why isn’t this working?  I don’t want my kids to be sick all the time or stupid!

The next thing I remember was being violently ill and Chris taking me to the emergency room.  The E.R. doctor was so kind.  I cried and told him I did not think I could keep breastfeeding.  Don’t ask me why I was telling an ER doctor this as it’s not something I would usually do – I pretty much keep to the business at hand when seeing a doctor.  I asked him if my son would be sick or stupid if I stopped and fed him formula only.  He smiled and said, “No, no, absolutely not.  My wife bottlefed all of our children and they are not sick or stupid at all.  Formula is so advanced these days that they will be fine.  It is ok to stop.”  I felt so much better.  A doctor’s wife had bottlefed her children. I’m not sure why that was so important to me – perhaps because I saw him as a health expert?

We decided to stop breastfeeding.  A part of me felt so relieved.  I could have help feeding the baby (wierd, even in my memories, I still think of G as “the baby”) and could get rest.  However, a major part of me felt like a failure.  Why could I not do what women for centuries had done?  Why could I not get this mothering thing right?

How would I ever get past this guilt?

…to be continued…

Survivor Stories