Life is full of expectations. I clearly remember all of those months patiently (and not so) waiting for Maya's arrival. I had certain expectations of what would happen and how it would be - how I would be. And then Maya arrived and I had to adjust myself to reality and be thankful for the reminder that life is full of surprises and doesn't let us get too complacent.
One of those expectations was around breastfeeding. Whilst I have always seen myself as an open minded, tolerant person I realised (in hindsight - isn't it wonderful?) that I was probably a bit, well, smug about it. I'm afraid I've never had much time for people being militant about anything and I always felt uncomfortable about the those who were so passionate about breastfeeding that their messages seemed to suggest that formula feeding was tantamount to child neglect. I would hate to think I was anything like that but I have to admit that after breastfeeding Cole for almost 12 months when he was born I had a warm, fuzzy feeling that I had done the absolute best for my baby. No nasty formula for my baby. So when Maya was born I was pretty passionate about doing the same with her. Only Maya seemed to have other ideas.
She latched on immediately she was placed on me in the delivery room and she seemed to barely stop for the first 7 weeks. She was colicky as I think I'd mentioned and seemed to get a lot of wind pain that would cause her to cry for hours. At 7 weeks she started getting incredibly fussy when feeding - it could take hours to get a full feed and I could literally spend 4 hours in the evening trying to get her to feed. We even ended up at the children't hospital one evening because she seemed so distressed and although it seemed to be nothing serious the pediatrician suggested I should cut out all dairy from my diet and that after 5 weeks or so her Colic might calm down. When your baby's distressed 5 weeks seems like a lifetime. She was also diagnosed with acid reflux and we were given baby gaviscon to thicken my milk and try and suppress the acid reflux. It was not a great situation.
Out of desperation and trying to get some respite for Maya and for us, we gave her a bottle of formula at bedtime on the advice of the health visitor and my doctor. I was at high risk for post natal depression so they were very concerned that I got sufficient sleep. And she slept better than she had done in weeks. As she'd taken the bottle so well I started expressing some milk and giving it to her from a bottle when she got too distressed to take the breast. The bottle also made giving her the gaviscon easier so we carried on like that for another month.
But she wanted the breast less and less. And gradually more formula crept in. I know the accepted wisdom is that this is inevitable when you start expressing milk but the fact of the matter was she was much more comfortable and settled when she had the formula. She was sick a lot less (she was capable of stupendous projectile vomits!) and better rested. I got to the point where I felt that my milk wasn't the best thing for her - something I never thought I would feel in a million years. So I started to think the unthinkable - give up breastfeeding her and switch to formula. I was unprepared for just how upset I felt at the prospect. It felt like such a rejection of me as a mother and I felt like a complete failure. How could I be a mother, a nurturer, the one who gave birth to her and was able to nourish he when she was growing inside me, and yet I couldn't nourish her now she was here.
I wept buckets of tears. I think I was more or less cried for a week. I wept for the loss of the special bond we had - I loved the fact that only I could do it. I was that one special
person she relied on and giving up the breast meant giving up that. Yes, you're tied to them in ways that can sometimes be draining and frustrating but those ties are also totally delicious. I loved the snuggly times when she fed until she fell away from me like she was drunk with sleep and food. I loved her milky little smell. The tiny gulping noises she made when she ate. But unfortunately these times were getting fewer and fewer and were more often replaced with screaming followed by lots of vomiting. It simply wasn't working. Not for me, but more importantly not for Maya.
I'm aware that my writing about this may cause some to disagree with me, or to even get angry. It's in no way my intention to cause offense or dissuade anyone to give up breastfeeding. I'm simply sharing my experience. And it surprised me - I'd expected breastfeeding to be as simple and easy as it was with Cole. But it wasn't - and I was flummoxed.
So after 3 months we switched to formula full time. And it was fine. It was better than fine. Almost over night Maya switched from a colicky, fussy baby with lots of intestinal problems to a happy, much more contented baby who slept well and was much calmer. And once my hormones calmed down a little I realised it was the best thing to do. What I felt when giving up was irrational but totally normal. I've spoken to several women since who've said they felt the same as I did when breastfeeding didn't go as they'd expected.
I know that I could maybe have persevered. Maybe it would have resolved itself. Maybe I shouldn't have even given her that first bottle of formula. There are lots of things I could have done differently. But I didn't, I did what felt best in the circumstances. Even so, I beat myself up royally about it for a while.
We're so hard on ourselves as women, and unfortunately on one another sometimes. I realised that whilst I hadn't been a breastfeeding extremist, I was certainly lacking in empathy for women who didn't breastfeed. I'd made the assumption that they must have stopped nursing because they hadn't tried hard enough.
Maya taught me to expand my ability for compassion and avoid assumptions. When I had Cole I realised that whilst it's our job as parents to teach our children, no one tells you how much they teach you right back. Maya taught me a valuable lesson in releasing expectations and being kinder to myself and others. She's one smart cookie my daughter.
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