Feeding Irene

The Birth of a Breastfeeding Mom by Beth Bell

As a scientist and veterinarian, I knew that any mamma's milk was the natural, best food for her baby. So when I found out I was pregnant, I began reading up on breastfeeding. I had three sisters, all of whom easily breastfed their babies, so I knew that I would be able to do the same for my hungry little one. Sure, one of my sisters had had some hypertension, but she'd been on a low quality diet in early pregnancy, and I was different-- I'd been on prenatal vitamins for 6 months before I stopped using contraception! I sailed through the first 6 months of my pregnancy athletically active, then started having problems that my midwife dismissed as typical indigestion and fatigue.   3 days before my due date I was diagnosed with HELLP syndrome. Within an hour I was on the surgery table, the fetal stress test was performed, and I was told that the baby would not survive labor. In an instant, my months of preparation for an nonmedicated birth went out the window. I was put under for an emergency cesarean.

The next thing I remember is waking up with a wrinkled, grunting red-haired thing on my chest. I looked around the room, and said blearily to my husband, "Am I still pregnant?" He laughed. The red-haired thing on my chest was our beautiful 5 pound 14 ounce daughter Irene, who came through with flying colors (both sides of the family are brown-haired, including my husband and myself). By then I was receiving blood transfusions, and the painful bruise from my surgical site spread from my navel to my knees over the next 24 hours. I was extremely weak, but I knew that I would make it and that I would hold and nurse my baby in my arms. We practiced latching on for the first few days, and just got to know each other. I pumped after she was too tired to latch on anymore, to stimulate my milk. By day 4 I was concerned-my milk hadn't come in despite my pumping and Irene's latching on. We started using a supplemental nursing system on day 5, with formula. Irene was ravenous, and took to my breast with enthusiasm. My milk finally came in after a week. By then my daughter was so accustomed to the immediate response of the SNS that she was unwilling to nurse my unadorned breast long enough to get a let down. She would latch on, then howl and arch her back away from me. She was so tiny, and she'd lost 12% of her birth weight the first week. I continued using the SNS, pumped my milk after her feedings so there would be breastmillk for the SNS at the next feeding, and got progressively more tired and resentful. Finally when Irene was three weeks old and on 100% breast milk I was fed up with the SNS. I felt like a Borg milk drone. We went to see the LC we'd seen at the hospital. She determined that Irene could get milk from me, although she screamed a lot between mouthfuls. I went home resolved to get our breastfeeding on track and off technology.

For three days I rarely left the armchair where we nursed. I couldn't keep her from arching her back in bed, so I went to the armchair even for night feedings. I held her gently but firmly. Whenever she arched and spat her baby curses at me I would let her move out of position a bit, but then I would move her back close to my breast. After three days, she was finally able to nurse while fussing only every couple of minutes, and I had thrown away the SNS forever (or so I thought, but that's another story).

Irene made up for her reticence, and became a dedicated nurser. She asked to nurse when we met, when we parted, when she had a booboo, a setback, or hadn't had physical contact with me for a few minutes. I remember reading an article about how someone worked from home between nursings, and I thought dizzily, "How does she get anything done in 10 minute snatches?" After more reading it became clear that Irene was a healthy, high-need baby and that this would pass with time. My husband and I became dedicated baby wearers. Irene bloomed.

One benefit of breastfeeding I rarely hear about is the wonderful boost to one's body image. Before Irene, I'd had the typical petty dissatisfactions with my body that come with our culture. Her adoring gaze for my bare breasts changed all that. Every time I stepped out of the shower, changed my shirt, or stripped down on hot summer nights, I'd get a lovely reminder that I have a gorgeous, life-giving, highly valued body. She would fix her eyes on the prizes, and her whole face would light up with a dazzling, delighted grin!

Irene refused solids at 6 months, 8 months, 10 months. She still woke several times a night to nurse. In desperation, we started slipping cheerios into her mouth before bed, and she would gamely chew and swallow them. Most other solids were an affront, however. Our sitter could get rice cereal mixed with yogurt into her. Irene didn't voluntarily put food in her own mouth until she was 15 months old.   Soon afterwards we weaned her from night nursing. We had tried at one year and at 16 months, and ended up with a miserable little family each time. The third time (20 months) I realized she was unable to go through the night without calories, so we offered her a yogurt smoothie (in a cooler by our bed) instead of nursing. It wasn't graciously received at first, but eventually she accepted it. And I was able to get up to 4 hours of sleep between feedings!

Once we weaned from night nursings things became more manageable, and we continued nursing with no deadlines or worries. When my husband and I decided to try for another baby, I wasn't too concerned. Irene was 27 months old, and nursing once every other day or so. I hoped she'd stop on her own once the taste of my milk changed, or it dried up as part of my pregnancy. Although I feared HELLP syndrome, I knew it was unlikely to recur, and that I'd be watched much more closely this time. I knew the first 7 months or so would be problem free and I looked forward to healthful walks with my daughter as my pregnancy progressed. Or so I thought.

Three weeks into the pregnancy I began feeling exhausted. It seemed as though I would fall asleep whenever I stopped moving. I was ravenous, sleepy, and my nipples were getting sore. I bled every few days, and worried constantly that I was going to lose the pregnancy. Whenever I bled I would go to bed for the day. Boredom was not a problem, because I was so sleepy that I didn't mind resting that much. At work I went to the rarely used women's locker room in our building to lie down for during lunch hours. This was so different from my athletic first pregnancy! I was just like the caricature of pregnant women I'd previously avoided.

By 6 weeks my nipples were so sore that I could only tolerate my daughter resting her open mouth on my nipple. Nursing was out of the question. A business trip was coming up, and I decided to use that as our weaning event. I told her she could nurse when I came home, or that we could have a big party with chocolate cake, decorations, and her friends from preschool. I wrote letters to Irene in advance, so they would arrive while I was away. I called home to touch base with Irene each night, and savored my uninterrupted nights. When I returned home Irene opted for the party. A week later, she asked to nurse, and I said, "Oh, but you weaned! Remember the party?" and we went on to talk about the cake, decorations, the friends that came and the games they played. Irene got so excited about her memories of the party that she forgot about nursing. One week later I had an ultrasound because of all the bleeding I'd had. I was pregnant with twins! My instincts about weaning Irene had been correct -there's no way I could have handled the stress of a twin pregnancy and nursed through it.

Irene asked to nurse about once a month through the remainder of my pregnancy, and I explained to her that she could nurse again after the babies came.   We were able to stay connected through my bed rest and hospital stays by cuddling and reading together. When her little brothers were a week old and she was 37 months, she asked again-I told her not yet, the babies were too young to share. Finally, when they were three weeks old, she threw a tantrum about it. I asked her to taste breast milk from a cup first-she gagged, and tearfully demanded to nurse. I relaxed when I knew she didn't like the taste, and allowed her to try. She put her mouth to my breast, and then was at a loss for what to do. "I'd like some juice instead" she said, a little confused.   We had a nice snuggle, and talked about how this meant that she really was a little girl now and not a baby, since she didn't like "baby food" (breast milk) now. I also assured her she would always be my most favorite little girl in the whole world. Now she's four years old. We often talk about how lucky her little brothers are to nurse (they are almost a year old now), and how much she liked nursing when she was tiny like them.

So what's the take home message for now-and-future breastfeeding mothers? You and your baby can overcome a rough start. Don't be afraid to invest early on in your nursing relationship- it pays off in health, love and lasting connection.