Do you? I do. I did with both of my children. And I’d do it again. I’m so sure that breastfeeding is the best option for all concerned that I have trouble understanding why some women choose not to.
It can be difficult. Especially at first. But once you get the hang of it, it’s the easiest, most convenient feeding option, surely?
I am surprised when I hear women say that they felt unsupported in hospital: that they didn’t receive the help they needed to start breastfeeding. Given that the medical profession are so keen to promote breastfeeding, I’d have thought midwives would do everything in their power to help new babies to latch on. But apparently not.
In my case, I had a lot of encouragement and plenty of instructions but even so, none of it was particularly helpful. I learned to breastfeed by trial and painful error. You can read books, see pictures, watch video clips and have several different midwives/mothers/friends suggesting tactics but, in the end, breastfeeding is something that you and the baby have to get right, on your own.
I did it wrong straight away. The first thing I did when FP was born was to let her suckle. It felt very strange to feel the tiny mouth clamping round my nipple. It was totally amazing that this tiny, new born baby knew exactly how to feed. And feed she did. Within minutes, my nipple was sucked to a painful pointy shape from which it took several painful weeks to recover.
Whether it was FP’s smallness, my inexperience or what, I’m not sure, but evidently, FP wasn’t latching on properly. The trouble was, neither FP nor I really appreciated what ‘properly’ meant. Within a few days of the birth, I had sore, cracked nipples that were bleeding. It was agony every time FP fed. I would sit, poised for the pain as she latched on, hardly daring to move as she fed. The pain would literally make me wince and yet, I was determined to endure it and to see this thing through.
Thank goodness.
Midwives suggested rubbing Lansinoh (a lanonlin cream) into the nipples to heal the sores and offer them a degree of protection against my ravenous baby. I bought a small tube of Lansinoh for about £10 (not joking, and I have most of it unused, if anyone wants it!) but then I received some conflicting advice: “The nipples have to toughen up! Massage breast milk into them and they’ll soon recover.”
It did seem as though the lanolin cream would have a softening effect, so I stopped using it and tried the ‘toughen up’ option. Nipple shields were also suggested but I was worried that these might feel unnatural to FP or that she might get used to having them and I’d end up having to use them forever. Besides, nipple shields weren’t going to help me to become ‘tough’.
Anyway, thank goodness (as I was saying) for my determination. My lowest point was probably when FP was about five weeks old and a particularly pessimistic midwife sighed over my plight and opined that, “Once you’ve got cracked nipples, they never heal!” I could have given up breastfeeding there and then.
But I didn’t.
I didn’t want the hassle of sterilising bottles. I didn’t want the expense of buying formula. I wanted FP to have breast-milk from me: naturally healthy, full of anti-bodies and exactly the right balance of nutrients. Who knows what is in that formula powder? I was convinced that my milk was best for my baby (not to mention most convenient) and I was determined to succeed.
After six weeks of agony, my nipples healed. The pain went away and breastfeeding became the easiest thing in the world. I breastfed on demand, whenever and wherever FP requested it: in lay-bys, car-parks, restaurants, shopping malls and even, once, in church during a wedding (on which occasion a well-meaning lady saw my eye-watering feeding experience and shook her head, “It’s not meant to hurt like that,” she said. Duh. Really?! I could have cried. I was trying my best but I felt as if I was failing.)
I can see why so many women give up breastfeeding within the first few weeks. Your breasts feel as unwieldy as water-melons, they are sore, leaky and have to be contained in the most unflattering bra you’ve ever worn. I can appreciate that some people cannot see the point of enduring the initial pain. I realise that some people live among bottle-feeding friends and feel embarrassed to (almost) get their breasts out in public.
But I’m So Glad that I persevered. I’m lucky to live among breast-feeding friends and have a mother who breastfed me and a mother-in-law who breastfed SP. I fed FP until she was about 14 months old and I am still breastfeeding EP (she’s only 7 months old as I write this).
The pain is relatively short-lived compared to the subsequent months of convenience. The uncomfortable swollen feeling doesn’t last: after a month or so the breasts feel ‘normal’ again, even whilst managing to produce enough milk for a growing baby. Even the ugly bras can eventually be discarded in favour of something a little less hammock-like.
So I’m sharing my experience in the hope of learning why it is that some women decide not to breastfeed and by way of encouraging those who are struggling to do so.
Persist. Be strong. The determination pays off and is so worthwhile.
Breastfeeding
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