Happy bellied baby

Before Elsie was born, I decided I would breastfeed. I actually don’t even remember that being a “decision” – it was just one of those things I assumed I would do. As a former pediatric nurse and now a family nurse practitioner, I’m more than well versed in the benefits of breastfeeding for mom and baby. Of course I would give her this. Women have nourished their babies this way for thousands of years, and I would be no different. Always one to prepare, I read The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. I went to a breastfeeding class. I peppered friends with questions. I bought breastfeeding clothes and milk storage bags and planned for how I would pump when I went back to work. I was ready.

Then she was born. And she didn’t latch well for several hours. She was sleepy and lazy and didn’t seem to see the need. But finally she did! She latched! We were doing it. I was so excited.

The first few weeks at home were a surreal blur of little sleep, and lots of cuddling my girl on the couch while we figured nursing out. She ate every 1-3 hours at least, and slept a lot. She had a bit of jaundice, so I started feeding even more often to help her get over that hump. I loved holding her close and feeding her. I felt strong and like I was a good mom. I was giving her the best. We were breastfeeding! We were succeeding!

But then…. her weight, which had dropped as expected after birth, never came up. She would eat just as she was supposed to – at regular intervals and for a good amount of time. But doctor visit after doctor visit – the numbers on the scale hovered below her birth weight. Her cheeks, so plump and squishy at birth, grew smaller. “She’s a lazy eater, make sure she stays awake” they said. So I stripped her down, ran a cool cloth over her face and back, tickled her feet – and she ate and slept and still didn’t gain weight. By now she was more fussy and hard to soothe, especially at night – I assumed it was just normal newborn stuff. We bounced and rocked and sang and still I fed her often. We were making it.

I saw lactation consultants and talked to multiple friends who were breastfeeding champions in my opinion. I read article after article about possible obstacles and how to resolve them. I snuggled and fed and tickled my girl, I took the herbal supplements and drowned myself in water, and still her weight didn’t come up.

As a trial, my pediatrician recommended letting her nurse, then pumping, then bottlefeeding her the pumped milk. This would stretch her stomach and teach her to take more milk with each feed while boosting my supply. It was one of the most exhausting weekends of my life, since she ate so often. By the time I fed her, pumped, bottlefed her again, put her to bed, and readied my pump supplies for the next cycle – I had less than an hour to sleep – and this was with Joey’s constant help. Once I fell asleep pumping and laid there for an hour and a half. You have to be real tired to pump for an hour and a half, let me assure you. But finally! Her weight crept up – we were almost back to birth weight. Thinking we were in the clear, we went back to simply nursing. She trending up for a few more days – then her weight dropped again. My month old baby was still not at her birth weight. Wee hours in the morning came with me holding a crying, hungry baby, wondering why she couldn’t fill her belly with the milk I clearly had. We were both upset and frustrated. I did not feel strong; I did not feel like a good mom. I couldn’t give her the best. We were not succeeding.

Finally, with thoughtfulness and tears, Joey and I decided forcing something that wasn’t working for us and leaving our baby hungry had to end. It was hard for me because I was determined to breastfeed. So often in my life I have accomplished what I wanted based on sheer stubborn willpower and hard work. But it wasn’t just that it was hard…it wasn’t working for her.   I chose to continue pumping some so that she can keep getting the good stuff, but pumping enough to meet her needs fully was too time consuming and left me feeling isolated; as if I couldn’t even be present to take care of her. The anxiety tied to feeding her had consumed my mind, and it didn’t have to be that way. Letting go of nursing and exclusive pumping was a hard choice, and thankfully I had some of the sweetest friends to talk me through it and let me cry when I felt like a failure. Why could so many others make it look easy, and for us it was such a battle? Motherhood is full of so many sacrifices and I was prepared for that, but laying down this – something that was supposed to be good for her? I didn’t see it coming, and it hurt. (Literally & figuratively – I got mastitis and felt terrible).

When we’re out in public, there’s a part of me (probably the prideful part) that feels like I need to explain things when I get out a bottle to feed her. “We tried! We tried so hard!” I want to say, and launch into how and why it didn’t work for us. Don’t think badly of me, begs my mind. There are some benefits to supplementing of course. Joey can help with feeds so I get a bit more sleep. It’s faster, and it’s more concrete with how much she’s getting and how often. My pediatrician probably worries about me less because I stopped crying at every weight check. I still snuggle up with her for each feed, stroking her face and talking to her. It’s not the method I wanted. But having a baby girl who remains healthy on the growth charts takes the sting away. And thankfully she has had no feeding issues with formula. And if I’m honest with myself? She loves that bottle. She doesn’t seem to care at all that her meals come from a plastic contraption. I think for her, meal times are less stressful. Her belly gets full and she is cuddled into contentment. No more hungry tears. She’s just working on gaining that double chin these days.

At the end of it all though, I think the experience in part was a lesson about learning to put her needs before my own desires. My stubborn grit will only go so far in this motherhood business, of that I’m sure. There are always going to be things I want to do my way, but that may not be the best way for her. She’s now 8 weeks old and growing like a weed. We have the bottle feeding business down pat, and she’s so happy, which means I am too. For those mamas out there pumping to feed their babies, I’m with you and for you because it’s not a ton of fun. Though it isn’t what I wanted, I’m at peace with things. This is what she needed, and I’m grateful to give it to her. I’m learning to give myself grace in the things that didn’t turn out like I thought they would, and count even the hard things as joy.  It also makes me aware so many mamas are just doing their best, and we so need grace from each other to get through this. I’m recognizing the incredible fortune of our day and age – having formula to give our baby girl is immense grace from the Father. So every time I mix that bottle, I will remember His kindness to me and His faithfulness to meet all needs in all kinds of ways. I hold her close and kiss her chubby little cheeks, give her a bottle, and I feel strong and like I am a good mom. I am giving her our best.

Photos of our happy healthy girl, because she’s the bees knees. 
In case you have a similar struggle, here’s a few awesome resources that helped me along the way:

Risen Motherhood Podcast: Bottlefeeding vs breastfeeding & the Gospel

Blog Posts:

Why I Nearly Quit Nursing
An Open Letter to Breastfeeding
When Breastfeeding Becomes An Idol