Feeding my girls
I was excited to be expecting my first child and I did all the classes – the NHS course and the NCT classes and attended both of the breastfeeding events because of course that’s what I planned to do. My mum had breastfed me and we are all told that breastfeeding is best; I knew it wasn’t necessarily going to be easy but if my mum could do it then so could I surely?!
I had a relatively straightforward pregnancy and a loose birth plan, but it all changed the day I finished work, the day I turned 38 weeks. 2 hours into my maternity leave the midwife called - my blood test results were concerning and I needed to go straight to hospital to be induced. 3 days and nights of painful induction and she arrived early on day 4. I needed stitches and I was completely exhausted but I couldn’t care less. I was elated to have my baby in my arms. She was placed straight on my chest for a cuddle while my partner cut the cord and was then whisked away to be checked over. I didn’t realise at the time but they were extremely concerned – the baby they thought would be huge was 5lb so while I was cleaned up a whole team of professionals whizzed round her. I didn’t know any different. However they decided she was fine, just small and handed her back to me, taking me back up to the ward 2 hours later.
At no point did anyone suggest trying to feed her.
My baby was the pride of the ward, this tiny girl who never cried. She slept almost all the time, the dream baby. Whenever I thought ‘perhaps I ought to try feeding her’ she would look up at me, move away from my breast and go back to sleep. I called the midwives and they got the feeding nurses to come and see me. They came every hour through the night to try and help me but not once did my daughter latch on. They supported me to try hand expressing, only successful from one of my breasts. To this day I have no idea why the other one didn’t work. Then they told me my daughter was becoming jaundiced and because of her low birth weight this was a significant concern. They said she wasn’t getting enough fats so we should introduce formula cup feeds. Of course I did as I was told. You trust the health professionals implicitly with a new baby. I was exhausted, sore and failing. I was hand expressing, syringe feeding then topping up with a cup and it still wasn’t good enough. Two and a half days later they brought in the expressing machine to try and get my breasts to produce more. It was industrial size and bigger than any of the machines I had in induction. They told me I would need to be on it for 8 hours a day to stimulate my supply. I burst into tears. I wanted to go home. I wanted to take my baby for a walk around the block. They told me I couldn’t go home until I established feeding. My partner had to go home at nights and I was alone, completely failing. They asked if I wanted to give her a bottle of formula so I said yes. My daughter downed the whole thing immediately. The nurse left us alone and I turned to my partner and said that I wanted to formula feed her. He breathed a huge sigh of relief and told me he wanted the same but hadn’t wanted to stop a mum from breastfeeding. He went to tell the midwives/nurses our decision and they all told me I was doing the right thing. He drove out and bought bottles and formula immediately and I was discharged the next day.
We never looked back. My daughter started gaining weight straightaway. At no point did a midwife or health visitor ever suggest reintroducing breastfeeding alongside the formula and I never tried again. I felt the need to justify my attempts to anyone I met. Explaining why I was bottle feeding at baby groups and justifying to health professionals why I wasn’t doing the “right thing” of breastfeeding but I was at least making sure my baby was fed.
3 years later I had baby number 2. She was born by “planned” caesarean section due to being footling breech and the same condition which had led to my previous induction. She came out crying, was placed on my chest and immediately wriggled to latch on. I was gobsmacked. Surely this was what is meant to happen. She suckled for almost an hour as I lay in recovery. I thought I’d cracked it. The next time she wanted milk I couldn’t latch her on at all. I called for help and the midwives couldn’t work it out either. She was either sobbing or I was in agony and we never quite fit together. I was exhausted, couldn’t move and was failing all over again. I decided immediately for my own mental health that I couldn’t go through the battles all over again. I asked for formula and she took to it straightaway.
Our girls are now 6 and 3. Both are strong, confident, healthy and capable. They go to school and nursery. They are no different to any of their peers. I did the best I could do as their mummy and I would make the same choices all over again.