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maggiecroushore-blog · 4 years

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Oh, the Places You’ll Pump: On Breastfeeding, Pumping, and Loving Yourself

I often find myself telling expecting moms about my breastfeeding and pumping journey and seeing one of several reactions: terror, horror, disinterest or disdain (very rarely the last, luckily). My goal is to never to scare new moms; I simply made a vow to myself after coming out of the haze of my first baby to be honest and normalize conversations about motherhood that often get ignored, pushed over, or hushed.

After going through the newborn experience twice, and in very different ways, I decided to write my story. This is not advice but rather a telling of my personal experiences in hopes that it may make another mom feel less alone.

When I was pregnant with my first, I always expected to breastfeed--it wasn’t even a question. While I was attempting to read up on so many other aspects of birth and parenting, I did not even think twice about breastfeeding. My mom breastfed; both of my older sisters breastfed; of course I would. It was a no brainer. I bought a breastfeeding book based on a suggestion of a colleague but, honestly, did not spend much time reading it. I would figure it out when the baby came; it couldn’t be that hard, right? Turns out, it can.

I had a pretty intense labor with my first but, after 5 hours of pushing, he arrived. I delivered in a hospital incredibly supportive of mothers—lactation specialists visiting your room was one of the many perks. My son latched quickly but my colostrum had not yet fully come in. He ‘nursed’ (aka was on the breast) a lot but I was not sure if he was actually getting anything. The nurses and lactation consultants said we were doing great and when we left the hospital, we were instructed to feed as often as he wanted and count the number of wet and dirty diapers. I was diligent and tracked every feeding, every diaper. We came back to the doctor for our two day check up, and, although he had the correct number of diapers and ‘nursed’ around the clock, he had lost a considerable amount of weight, causing some concern.

What happened next was a blur of lactation consultant appointments and weight checks (about every 2 days), and countless strategies to increase my milk supply. The doctor ordered me a hospital grade breast pump that was quickly delivered and became my new ‘best friend.’ I pumped around the clock (after every feeding, so around 10 times a day), took more supplements than I could count (fenugreek, blessed thistle, brewers yeast, goat's rue, etc.) and ate oatmeal and other foods that were supposed to help milk production. It is honestly hard to know if anything actually improved my supply, but I was determined. Then, at an appointment a week or so after giving birth, the lactation consultant suggested we try supplementing with formula. I lost it. Formula? I had been told consistently that “Breast is Best.” Feelings of failure and inadequacy as a mother poured in. But my poor baby was hungry, so I tried the formula. He devoured it.

Next came a strict regimen of feeding with a feeding tube/syringe inserted into his mouth/the side of my breast every time he fed with a mix of formula and pumped milk. I fed him a lot and pumped a lot. Breastfeeding in public was stressful--not only because I was a new mom but also because I couldn’t just pop him on my breast; I had so many things and my kid was often not that into it.

But I was determined, so I continued breastfeeding. And it was hard on me, my kid, and my whole family. I constantly felt judged for having to supplement with formula and was tired of hearing all of the “tips and tricks” to increase my milk supply.

Others: “Had I tried XX? Because someone else did and it solved all of their issues.”

Me: “Yes, I have tried that. Honestly, not sure if it’s working but I still put a bunch of time and money into it because I will feel like a failure if I don’t. I usually just end up crying about it, but thanks for the suggestion.”

Just kidding, I would usually just reply, “Thanks for the suggestion. I have tried it and it didn’t help much but it’s great to hear that it works for others.”

I know people are generally trying to be kind and helpful but to the mom who is trying everything and nothing appears to be working, suggestions along these lines just don’t help and often make it worse. What I wish I would have heard far more often is “Fed is Best. You are doing great. Your baby is lucky to have you as a mom.” If I ask for suggestions, suggest away. But, please, no unsolicited advice.

When I returned to work when my baby was 5 months old, I prepared myself for a whole new set of challenges--pumping at work. WIth such a low supply, it was critical for me to pump every 2-3 hours at the same time each day for at least 20-30 minutes. That was not a reality I could make happen. I had started a new job and really wanted to prove myself. Getting to the “state required” mother’s room was also a comical experience that took 15-20 minutes on both sides, putting the total I would ideally be away for each pumping session at around an hour.

Not possible.

I did manage 2-3 sessions a day and used my driving commute to pump as well, feeding as much as possible when at home. There were a few hacks that helped make it a bit more manageable, but again, I found myself getting frustrated (and slightly heartbroken) when others would tell me to “put it on the calendar” (I did; others scheduled over); “drink tea to increase supply” (again, I did; it didn’t); and “enjoy the time you get to breastfeed--it goes by fast,” (it was hard to enjoy, especially since feeding was more and more of a fight since my ever-hungry kiddo wanted food fast, and I (literally) just didn’t have it in me).

After 2 months back at work, pumping, I made what seemed like an impossible decision at the time and stopped nursing. I honestly couldn’t take the heartbreak of having my very strong child screaming and aggressively arching his back in protest every single time I breastfed him. I already felt guilty enough not being with him all day because I was working; I wanted to cherish every second together. So I spoke with my very supportive husband and decided to stop breastfeeding.

An enormous weight lifted, relieving some pressure, but I did feel some loss. I couldn’t help but feel like a failure. To this day, I struggle with it; I know it was the right decision, but the pain is still there. And it shouldn’t be. I loved my child so much and did everything I possibly could to ensure that he was fed--and he was thriving!

Baby #2: totally different. I had the same issues of a low supply, but he was SO into it and I made it about 13/14 months, basically twice as long. I was different as well. I was aggressively honest about everything--every challenge, every struggle, every accomplishment.

My second came into the world rather quickly and was a chill baby from the start. He took to breastfeeding right away and was happiest when touching me and nursing. And he did it often.

When we went to the 2 day appointment, I was expecting to hear that he had lost too much weight and I would need to supplement again. I was prepared for this. It didn’t happen. They shared that he was right on track and, when observed nursing, looked great. I shared my previous struggles with low supply and after some advocating, was able to convince them to rent me a hospital grade breast pump. I left the appointment feeling optimistically hopeful--maybe my supply was totally fine and I would be able to breastfeed without supplementing. I still took precautions and had the supplements and foods that were associated with increasing milk supply and drank my tea 3-4 times/day. Once my pump arrived, I pumped a couple of times a day on top of feeding 10-12 times. He was not an especially fussy baby and did great sleeping (touching me--he wasn’t very interested in sleeping anywhere else); I felt great.

After a couple of weeks, something felt off. He wasn’t extra fussy and had the right number of diapers (more than suggested, even). But I couldn’t shake that I should be supplementing. I was taking my older child to get his flu shot and decided to ask if I could get the baby weighed to ensure he was progressing. Weight check appointments were a thing (I wasn’t previously aware), and they had an opening with the nurse practitioner, so they squeezed me in. My oldest wowed the nurses with not reacting at all during his flu shot (seriously, didn’t even skip a beat). Then, we headed downstairs to wait for the nurse.

To all the mamas (and parents): trust your instincts.

The nurse weighed him and looked at his growth chart and said it was a bit concerning. He had lost weight and was not progressing as they would like--not “failure to thrive” but also not in the ideal range. Although I was half expecting to hear this, I was devastated and fighting tears. The nurse suggested I pump after every feeding and give him the extra milk. Then, I could see the lactation nurse who would be in the office in two days.

I pumped after every feeding (again, 10-12 times a day) and supplemented with the expressed milk. When I went back to the lactation nurse a few days later, he had gained some weight but was still not in the desired range. So, the moment I knew was coming (and expected coming) came. It was time to supplement with formula. Having done this before and seeing the amazing results (a happy, healthy, thriving kid), I was ready. However, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t disappointed in myself for not being able to produce enough milk through sheer will (and many interventions). In my heart, I knew I was doing my absolute best and giving my kids everything I could. And that was more than enough.

I did things differently this time. I still pumped around the clock and took all the supplements, but chose to use a bottle after every feed since that worked better for us both. I drowned out the “noise” and judgements (both real and perceived). I wanted to enjoy every second of this happy little man and nothing was going to stop me.

Then, after a wonderful 5 month leave, I went back to work and the real pumping began. Now, I had been pumping 8-10 times/day at this point but solely pumping and pumping after a feeding was different--more challenging and cow-like. The logistics of pumping at work are also just really hard. However, my baby LOVED nursing (low supply and all), so as long as he was into it, so was I. It was a bit easier the second time around, having learned a few strategies that worked for me: pump on the way to work in the car, schedule 3 sessions at the same time each day (and hope most don’t get scheduled over), pump on the way home, and be shameless and open about your needs. It was still really hard but, again, I felt an obligation to myself and other working moms to normalize pumping and not be afraid to talk about it.

I know that I made many of my male (and female) colleagues feel uncomfortable by talking about pumping at work and I did not particularly love having to get up and walk out of meetings, explaining that I would happily join via phone but needed to physically leave so that I could pump (cue: me being paranoid that everyone was thinking about my boobs). But, again, it was worth it to me. I ended up pumping for about 8 months at work--far longer than I had the first time around. It was exhausting and often frustrating since I had a very low supply and not much to show for a day of pumping. I felt lucky that I was also supplementing with formula so that I didn’t need to feel the enormous pressure of pumping for the entire next day’s milk. And I felt lucky that I was in a position in my career that I was able to be very honest about my needs and confident in advocating for myself, even if I found myself in uncomfortable situations regularly.

And now, reflecting after almost a year of not pumping at work, I feel lucky that I was able to nurse for just over a year and even luckier that I have access to quality formula so that my baby could thrive. I don’t miss pumping in the least but I do miss nursing from time to time. However, I am empowered by the fact that I made the decisions that worked best for my family. My kids are loved and well fed.

Fed is best. Loved is best. All mothers, fathers, and caregivers are different; all kids are different; and that is one of the many things that makes parenthood, and life, so incredible.

Bottom line, as a society, we need to do better to support and empower mothers to make decisions based on what is right for them, period.

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