A Tale of Two mothers

by Erin Tripcony

My breastfeeding story probably starts out the same way as many other women. I was pretty sure I would breastfeed, but didn't really know all the problems that can occur and how difficult it can be for some. Sure, I'd heard stories from other women about cracked nipples, marathon nursing sessions, etc, but I guess somehow it was just pushed to the back of my mind, much like all the talk about no sleep during the first few months of baby's life. One of my best friends, who was breastfeeding her own child at the time, asked very hesitantly, "Are you planning on breast feeding?" At the time, I thought it was such a dumb question. Duh, well of course, who wouldn't? "Well, if you need any help, let me know," she said. I thought I was so smart and prepared I wouldn't need much help! I'd done all the right things: Lamaze, breastfeeding class, read a breastfeeding book, etc. Hah! Obviously fate had different plans for me!

On October 4th, I went into my obgyn's office for my 40-week check-up. I was quite apprehensive as my mother-in-law, who had been battling recurrent breast cancer, had been hospitalized just two days earlier, and it wasn't looking so good. When my doctor suggested induction for that night I was somewhat hesitant, but my decision was confirmed when we went to see my mother-in-law, Scottie, in the hospital after the appointment. Although she was in great pain due to the cancer having metastasized to her bones, she was still at this point, coherent. I told her the pros and cons of waiting it out vs. the induction and that I was leaning toward the induction. Although we never spoke of it, I think there was an understanding between us that her health was the deciding factor. When I left the hospital that day, the last words she said to me were: "You are doing the right thing." She wanted to give me a hug, but the nursing aides were in the middle of changing her gown and I quickly wrapped my arms around her neck and left to go home and prepare for the night's events. Little did I know that the brief hug we shared would be the last one.

My birthing story is a classic tale of failed induction leads to a c-section. At 3:24pm, October 5th, 2001, my beautiful baby girl, Shelby Katherine, was born, 7lbs 4oz - perfectly healthy. Shortly after the c-section, she was whisked away to be bathed, poked and prodded. When they brought her to me about an hour later in the recovery room, my eyes filled with tears. What a joy to finally hold this sweet, precious child. And she made it just in time, before her grandmother's passing! I held her to my breast and she nuzzled up against it, opened her mouth and fell asleep. Thus started a few frenzied days of a very sleepy baby, a very weepy momma, and a lot of nurses, lactation consultants, friends and family trying to help this little one learn to latch-on. In the midst of all this were the phone calls back and forth to the other hospital to check on Scottie. (Yes, unfortunately we were not in the same hospital!)

My poor husband was so torn. How do you ask a person to divide his time between his dying mother and his newborn child? He was pulled in both directions, bless his soul. He spent the night with us that first night in the hospital, but after that my mother volunteered to stay with me overnight while he went to be with his mother at the other hospital. While he was reluctant at first, he finally agreed. He spent most of his days with me and the baby and his nights at his mother's bedside. His mother was coherent enough after the birth to see video of the baby and some photos we'd had developed hurriedly at the one-hour photo. She remarked that the baby was, "too cute."

To say that my daughter and I started our breastfeeding relationship under stressful conditions is an understatement! Besides all the givens that go with child-birth, his mother dying and becoming parents for the first time, my husband had also just started a new job a few months back. They had been generous enough to grant him time off for his daughter's birth even though he hadn't been there very long, but now it was looking like he'd need even more time off to deal with his mother's affairs as well! It's amazing that under all this stress my milk ever came in!

Enter my mother. Although my older sister and I were born during the era of formula feeding being pushed over breastfeeding, my youngest sister, who is quite a bit younger, was breastfed exclusively, and didn't wean until she was three years old. Through all the tears- mine and Shelby's - the repeated attempts at latch-on, the buzz of all the doctors and nurses in and out, Mom was there, lending a hand, an ear and even at one point, a breast! I had become so frustrated with Shelby not latching on and the repeated attempts by the lactation consultant to help were not working. My mom, hesitantly offered to try and get Shelby to latch to her own breast, since she had so much more experience in this area and that maybe that would then help Shelby latch-on better to mine! What an awesome, yet strange, offer! Although I didn't take her up on it (I was worried what the staff might think if they walked in), that gesture meant a lot to me then and means even so much more to me now. That offer gave me the strength and courage to carry on despite the difficulties. The fact that my Mother made this offer reinforced to me her own values and beliefs on the importance of breastfeeding and made me even more determined to keep trying.

The next day, Sunday, October 7th, the lactation consultant, came back up to the hospital, on her own time, and spent another two hours trying to get Shelby to latch-on. We had done all the classic tricks before: trying to wake her up, a wet wash clothe on the forehead, undressing her to the diaper, skin-to-skin, every position possible, etc. We tried all these tricks again on this particular day. Just when we were about to give up, lo and behold, she did it! She latched on. Admittedly, it was still a bit of a lazy suck at first, but at least we had something to build on! That night, at some ungodly hour of the morning, I cradled my sweet baby in my arms and nursed her successfully for the first time. I have never been so choked up in my life! As my own mother looked on from the adjoining hospital bed, I felt so proud of my baby and of myself, you'd have thought I just climbed Mt. Everest!

The next day, Monday, October 8th, as we were getting ready to be discharged from the hospital, my husband got a call on his cell phone: his mother was not doing well at all and he'd better come quick. Once again he was torn in two. His baby was leaving the hospital, entering the world for the first time! But, his mother was leaving the world. There was a hubbub of activity from the nursing staff to try and speed our discharge, but things were going slowly. I told my husband to go, that Mom and I could take care of getting discharged. But then realization hit: We only had two cars at the hospital - his and mine, and my mom couldn't drive a standard and I couldn't drive because of the c-section. Fate had stepped in again: the choice was made for us. He went down to pull the car around front when he got the call that his mother had passed. He called us in the hospital room and once again, there was my mother to hold and comfort me.

My baby is 6 months old now and nurses beautifully. We went through the first two months of nursing with repeated thrush infections, but with my mother's ongoing support and encouragement, I kept at it. There was many a day that I would want to give up! I can't do this anymore I would tell her. All I do is nurse! I can't get up to use the bathroom, to shower. All she wants to do is eat! My mom always would support me to take things one day at a time and would promise me of the rewards and enjoyment that were soon to come. At around three months, I'll never forget it, she paused in her breast feeding, looked at me and gave a huge smile. My heart melted and although I was fairly committed to breastfeeding before this, I was now completely hooked. Oh the joy to feed a sweet baby who is so content at your breast and who is thriving from the nourishment only a mother can give. She smiles all the time now, reaches up and strokes my face while she eats, wants me to chew on her fingers, and strokes her own face. She is just so adorable, and I absolutely cherish the moments I have with her. She has gotten to where we have to do "sheltered nursing." She is too distracted by the tugs and pulls of the outside world to eat well in public. So I take her up to her room, in her little rocking chair and simply stare at her while she eats. I love the "forced" relaxation time that this gives me in what can sometimes be a hectic day! What is so awesome now too, is the way that we are so in sync with each other. As her breathing slows, mine slows. As she grows drowsy, I grow drowsy. As her body melds to mine, mine melds to hers. The "comfort" in "comfort nursing" is not just for the baby!

For so long after the birth of my baby and the death of my mother-in-law, Scottie, I asked the question: "Why?" Why did things have to happen this way?. Why did Scottie die, literally, just minutes before she would have gotten to see her first grand daughter in person? Many sleepless nights and tears later, I have come to terms with some of this. Obviously the circle of life continues on in our blessed daughter. I know she has a special guardian angel in heaven as well. But the thing that has just recently occurred to me is how everything works out for a purpose. During my labor and the days that followed, everyone was just where he or she needed to be at the right time. Had Scottie not been in the hospital, my mother would not have offered to stay with me overnight so that my husband could be with his mother. Had I not had her there with me, an experienced breast feeder, during those long sleepless and difficult nights, I might not have had the courage to continue trying despite the odds, not to mention the stress of the whole situation. I needed my mom and Scottie needed her son. The other thing is that I immensely regret not having hugged her harder, longer and better that last time. I know, its one of those hindsight things, but still the pang of regret is still there. It is lessened, however, by the fact that I did talk to her one more time two days before she died. My husband called me from her room and wanted me to sing to her the way I had sung at his grandfather's death bed just a few short months before. As I sang, through the tears, I knew this would be the last time I talked to her. "I love you," I whispered into the phone. A barely audible and muffled, "I love you too" came back from the other end. Those were the last words we spoke. Thus, you see, my husband was where he needed to be too. Saying goodbye to his mother and giving me another opportunity to do the same.

I didn't realize until recently as I have perused some of the breastfeeding boards on parenting websites how unsupportive some people's family, friends, and relatives can be when it comes to breastfeeding. I am now so much more grateful to my mother, my good friend Christy who asked me that important question, "Are you planning on breastfeeding?" and who continues to support me daily in my breastfeeding endeavors, and to all my other friends and family who have stuck by me in this journey.

I saw an acquaintance in the store the other day. I hadn't seen her in quite some time. As she walked up to me, in an obviously pregnant state, I asked, "when is the baby due?" "Any day now," she replied. Like my friend before me, and the many women who will come after me, I hesitantly asked that fateful question: "Are you planning on breastfeeding?" "Oh, sure," she said.. After telling her about the joys of breastfeeding a sixth month old and some of the difficult beginning I had (sometimes better not to tell the whole truth!) I said, "Well, if you need any help, give me a call." Hopefully, she will be one of the lucky ones whose baby latches on successfully and sails forward full speed ahead. But if not, I hope she'll take me seriously and give me a call! Like the women who supported me, I hope to be there for her and anyone else who may need me.