I heard this question a lot. It irritated me even more. When I was pregnant with my son in 2007, I was asked this question at every doctor visit. I always said no. Breastfeeding was disgusting. Why anyone would want to do that was beyond me. Why on earth would I want to stick my boob into a poor innocent baby’s mouth and make him/her drink by bodily fluids? I ranked it right up there with molestation.
I was wrong.
When my son was born 6 weeks early, I contemplated it for a minute until the nurse said I wouldn’t be able to breast feed him. She meant actual baby-to-breast but I thought she meant “at all”. I could have pumped until he was big enough to nurse, but I didn’t know that then. I didn’t know anything about breastfeeding. I didn’t know the nutrition value or the ease and convenience of it. I also didn’t know how special it can be.
My son had reflux and breathing problems. Mostly typical issues for being a preemie. He came home on a breathing monitor and reflux medication. We tried several different formulas before finding one he could tolerate. Of course, it was the most expensive one! When he was a little bigger, we tried the store brand formula and he tolerated it well so we stuck with that one. For an entire year we lugged around a can of formula, bottled water, and bottles. I did it because the thought of breastfeeding made me want to puke.
I now wonder if some of the struggles with his health could have been avoided had I just given it a shot. From the time he was born, my son has had some health issues. Nothing too pressing or life altering. Just annoying. Ear infections, colds, allergic reactions, hives, random fevers, etc. The latest was a couple of weeks ago when he suddenly spiked a 104 temp that proved to be from pneumonia.
Do you want to know the end-all, final-say was in what made me decide to breast feed my second child?
Depression.
I was diagnosed as bi-polar with anxiety disorder when I was a teenager. I found that I am allergic to the antidepressants and mood stabilizers that I tried so I just deal with it on my own.
After my son was born, I went into a deep depression. He’d cry to be fed and just wanted to run the other way. I would just hold him and cry and think of how much easier it would be if he wasn’t there. I remember how horrible I felt for thinking that. I felt useless. Heartless. I was nothing more than “the baby-maker”. I meant nothing.
My husband was wonderful. He had nothing to do with how I felt. He did most of the child care when he was home because he wanted to. He fed our son, bathed him, dressed him, rocked him, etc. I just wanted to sleep. He tried so hard to get me to want to take care of our son, but to no avail. Those of you with depression will understand that you can’t just “snap out of it”. It just has to ease up on its own and until then…you just deal with it. When our son was about 18 months old, I finally started to see him as the miracle that he is. I’ve spent every minute since then trying to make up for the first 18 months of his life.
When I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, something changed in my heart. I honestly can’t tell you what or when. One day it just crossed my mind that maybe I should give breastfeeding a shot. Maybe it was the guilt of not even trying with my son? I started reading about it and asked a lot of questions. I had a lot of concerns and hesitations. The more I read the more I felt that maybe it was going to be ok. I was becoming convinced by the nutritional values, health benefits, and (to be honest) the cost factor didn’t hurt either.
I told everyone that I was going to try. I didn’t want to say “I will” because that just seemed daunting and like I was setting myself up for failure. If I said “I’ll try” then I had an out which I knew I wouldn’t take. I had taken the breastfeeding class, bought the pump, watched the videos, talked to the lactation consultants, interviewed my cousin (she breastfed her son for over a year), threw away all sample cans of formula, etc. I was ready. I knew it all. Yeah…that all went out the window when I tried to latch her on!
The first week was, and I’m not going to sugar coat this, HELL. There were tears, screaming, temper tantrums, fussiness, and frustration. My baby girl didn’t seem too happy either. She was born on a Wednesday. By Sunday, I wanted to quit. As I sat in the chair with her screaming from hunger and my breasts sore and throbbing, I bawled. My husband (sweet, sweet man) knelt down in front of me and took our daughter until she calmed down enough to latch on. I continued to cry. He looked me in the eye and said “You’re doing great! You can do this.” He was so sincere and supportive. I cried again. Monday morning, as if by some miracle, the pain started to subside. By Wednesday…one week after her birth…breast feeding didn’t hurt anymore and I actually started to look forward to it.
I haven’t slept a full night since she was born. She’s still up at least once a night. She still wants to nurse from 6:30 until 9:30 every evening. But she’s only had one instance of bronchitis and even that was minor. Her diapers don’t reek to high heaven. We’re not out at midnight trying to find an open store because we forgot to buy formula. I AM the vending machine (as my sister calls me). We don’t have to bring an extra bag full of bottles, formula, and bottled water. The only extra item we have is my pump which I bring to work and on long trips (just in case).
Today is our 6 month milestone for breastfeeding. It has NOT been easy. I’m not a morning person and being up several times during the night doesn’t help. However, I know this is best for her. We have a bond now. It’s a very different bond than what I have with my son (the bond with him isn’t any less…just different). I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Hello, my name is Jennifer and I’m a formula-to-breastfeeding-attitude conversion survivor.
(originally written on June 9, 2010 by me)
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