Dilys
Writing this reminds me of what a painful, emotional time it was and how devoid of feeling the attitude of hospital staff had been towards me.
I was born in 1946 and emigrated from the UK to Australia shortly after. In 1964, I married a wonderful man and, when my first baby was born, I just thought it was natural to breastfeed. With the help of one of the nurses, I was able to get baby to attach. That was the first and last lactation-based help I received, apart from my mother. The babies spent the night in the nursery, so mothers could sleep. Nurses brought the ‘baby trolley’, for baby to be fed, after an early morning cup of tea. I wasn’t allowed to get out of bed until the third day, when a nurse came and washed me, with special emphasis given to pouring warm water on my perineal area (over a bedpan) to keep my stitches clean. Classes were available on exercise and baby bathing, but nothing on baby feeding. Fortunately, my mum gave me lots of tips about feeding, as her grandmother and great grandmother were midwives and herbalists, respectively.
My second son arrived in 1967. My third son was born in 1969, with spina bifida. Medical staff told me there was a problem with the baby but did not tell me what it was. I asked them to ring my husband. I asked several times during the night, and early the following morning: Finally, a doctor rang him at 7.30am. He came straight in and the doctor took him out of the room to explain the problem. Then he came back and told me. Later that morning, a hospital sister briefly held him up, for me to see. I hated her for that. He was then taken to a children’s’ hospital for surgery.
My husband has read this story and commented that it doesn’t sound as horrifying as it actually was. Writing this reminds me of what a painful, emotional time it was and how devoid of feeling the attitude of hospital staff had been towards me. I was in hospital for seven days, during which time the only ‘help’ came from a social worker who asked me if I wanted to see a psychologist. I was probably the strong partner during this time as my husband was devastated for me and the baby. It was expected that I would ‘dry up my milk’, but I had been hand expressing milk under the shower.
The next day we went to the hospital to see our son. I was able to feed him when I saw him, but I only went every second day to visit, as my husband had to work and I had the other two children. I had to use public transport and the journey each way took around two hours. After six long weeks and a second surgery when he was three weeks old, my baby came home. The hospital staff forgot to give me the formula he’d been fed while there. After spending an hour on the phone to get someone to release the formula that the hospital never divulged over the phone, my husband had to spend another hour driving around to find an after-hours chemist to find what we needed. During that time, I breastfed my poor, screaming baby but there was very little milk there, so it was very painful. The teat for the bottle for a newborn was so slow that my baby fell asleep from exhaus- tion. I had a bit more milk in the morning and each feed I offered breast before bottle. After two difficult weeks, where he would cry when given the complementary bottle because he liked the breast better. After three weeks, I had built up enough milk to fully breastfeed him and continued feeding by breast for nine months, as I had with first two babies.
We had another son three years later and I fed him for 12 months, as he was going to be the last child. Well, nine years later we had the most delightful surprise of a beautiful daughter. It was a pleasure to breastfeed again but she couldn’t drink all the milk that I had and I got mastitis, which I had come close to a few times with the boys. My mum had advised me to express under the hot shower or with a hot washer (which was the only solution in the olden days), and to keep the baby at the breast as well as a full feed, approximately 20 mins each side, from the hard breast. I recovered well and fed her for nine months. We decided to give her a playmate and another cute, gorgeous girl, was born. I fed her for 18 months because she was definitely our last!
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