The Instagram mums I followed were swiftly deleted

Alyssa

The Instagram mums I followed were swiftly deleted, lactation consultants ignored – and I did what I felt was right.

I went into pregnancy and motherhood adamant that I would breastfeed. I knew it could be hard and that so many people around me had strug- gled, including my sister. I just never thought it would happen to me. I started hand expressing my colostrum when I was 35 weeks preg- nant and felt a surge of excitement and happiness at what my body had managed to produce. I took it as a sign that I would have absolutely no issues. I managed to get about nine syringes of colostrum in the freezer, before my son was born.

At 38 weeks I was induced because my son was measuring very large and I had noticed reduced fetal movement. I had an emergency c-section and my son was placed directly on my chest after he was born, because I knew this helped with the first feed. However, I had convulsions from the drugs in my system and they had to take him off me. My husband held him, wrapped up neatly for the next hour.

In recovery they placed him again on my chest with just a nappy and we finally had skin-on-skin contact. He found my breast and I had plenty of colostrum, but he simply stayed at my nipple with his mouth open and made absolutely no sucking motion at all. The midwives told me not to worry and that it was a skill he would learn. We tried to feed him at the breast but he continued to not latch. I fed him my colostrum through syringes. After about 30 hours, my colostrum suddenly dried up completely. I had nothing: every feed, three or four different midwives would come into my room, push my son’s head into my breast, squeeze my breasts to the point they started to bruise, push his head some more, he would scream, I would cry, he would get flustered, more pushing on my breast, more squeezing my nipples, more screaming and more tears, and still no colostrum.

My husband went home to collect the colostrum we had in the freezer and we used that up by the time baby was 72 hours old. That third night was probably the worst night; my son was so unsettled because he was hungry and every feed ended in midwives bruising my breasts and my son’s head being pushed into my breast. It was awful. I saw a lactation consultant who helped me with my posture and relaxing when feeding and showed me how to use a nipple shield. The nipple shield provided us with the most success so far. However, I still had a small amount of colos- trum and he wasn’t getting enough. I was instructed to start pumping, to bring my milk on and after a couple of pumps I managed to start collecting a good supply of milk. However, I was told not to give it to my son, which I found incredibly confusing. So, I continued to attempt to feed him with the nipple shield and with the little milk he was able to get.

It had been suggested by the lactation consultant and some midwives that I give him formula, which I refused to do. I was adamant I was going to breastfeed my son. On night four, my husband went home to get some sleep, in preparation for us to come home. By 3am, my son had been crying for hours. A lovely midwife came into my room, to find my son and I both hysterical. She took him away, gave me a piece of paper to sign, allowing her to give him formula and then she was gone! I slept for seven hours straight; my son had two formula feeds and he was so happy with his full little belly.

We continued attempting to feed with the shield, which was hit and miss, and pumping. By this point I was ‘allowed’ to give him my milk. He no longer needed formula top-ups because I had a great supply of milk. We went home with some emergency formula and a breast pump. We continued using the shield, pumping and feeding him expressed breast- milk for two weeks. My sister-in-law, who is a midwife, came to visit and she was just what I needed. She showed me how to feed him using different holds, laying down and without the shield. He seemed to be getting the hang of things.

Soon afterwards, I paid $200 for a private lactation consultant to come over and give me some more support. She was very caring and managed to help my son to latch and feed without the shield. She put me on a strict routine of starting every feed without a shield and if not successful, to then try with it. I was instructed to stop pumping, stop giving expressed milk and absolutely no formula. So that’s what I did. And that’s when everything went pear shaped.

My son fed for about an hour every three hours for the next few days and he was miserable. I was also miserable; he didn’t sleep, I didn’t sleep. The community health nurse came for a check-up and on weighing him found he had lost over a kilo of weight, since starting this new feeding routine. I broke down completely. He was nine weeks old. From that point onwards I tried my best to ignore all the social media posts about breast- feeding. The Instagram mums I followed were swiftly deleted, lactation consultants ignored and I did what I felt was right. We started mix feeding, breastfeeding in whatever way worked for us, with the shield, without, laying down, sitting up, you name it! I stopped pumping completely, as I realised it was seriously starting to affect my mental health. I topped up with formula.

Nine months on, I am still breastfeeding and I love it; the bond between us and the knowledge that I’m giving him all the breastmilk goodness he needs. However, I also love that he will take a bottle of formula without hesitation. Family can babysit and I can enjoy a night away with my husband without worrying. Breastfeeding is wonderful, but it doesn’t define us, as mothers. My son is thriving. You got this, mama!