My breastfeeding story, to me, has been one of trying and failing. I desperately wanted to breastfeed my babies and for one reason or another it didn’t work out. From bad latches, lip ties, low supply, pain etc. my breastfeeding journey only lasted around 6 weeks with my first two girls. It broke me. Crushed me. I still get pangs of guilt and sadness to this day. And I was so excited to have one more shot at a successful breastfeeding relationship with our third. But then everything changed when she was born 7 weeks early.
Instead of getting to snuggle and cuddle and feed my baby I formed a love/hate relationship with a pump. It was one of the things I didn’t think about when everything with her birth was unraveling but then shortly after she was born the nurse rolled in the medical grade pump. And since I couldn’t nurse her it became my mission to pump round the clock and get her the best possible nutrients to help her tiny little body fight and grow. It was the least I could do for kicking her out of my body far too early. I was able to provide more than enough for her and get a good freezer stash built up but I still desired to introduce nursing her when she was strong enough. We did all the things we could to help that cause while she was in the NICU. And once she came home we tried but it was hard. She was so little still and it was hard for her to spend that much energy eating. So we nursed every so often but my main relationship was still with the good ol pump.
I battled pain, infection, tears, open wounds and a hardcore case of mastitis coupled with an allergic reaction to medication and a permanently clogged duct. But it was worth it. It felt worth it until she came home and started needed a lot of my time. I was stressing myself out trying to get away to pump while also making sure she was properly cared for. It was also taking me away from my older girls who had not seen much of me during the 5 week NICU stay. I was being pulled in too many different directions, was dealing with postpartum depression and was struggling to stay afloat... something had to give.
So I made a decision to stop pumping. To nurse on occasion but no more being tied to a 2-3 hr timeframe of hooking myself up. It was a brutally hard decision and I wrestled with it, prayed about it, cried over it for a couple weeks before finally making the choice to stop. And I regret it to this day. You see here we are 5 months after that decision and my freezer has one day of milk for her left. I type that with tears rolling down my face. I feel like I have failed her. Like I didn’t try hard enough. Like I could have done more. I should have done more. And believe me, I have Googled and researched re-laction over and over again but its just too hard with our current life. So here we are are…I am proud of what I was able to give her, proud of the things I fought through to keep going and I know that there is NOTHING wrong with formula (my other two girls are super duper healthy and so so smart) but its more than just the milk, its a stage, its an experience that I won’t ever get. Its the end of a chapter of my life, having babies, and its so hard to close that door.
So today it will end. And I will cry more tears than I probably should. But I will try to remind myself to look down at that sweet baby girl and be proud of us, proud of her and remember just how far we have come the last 7 months.
