BREASTFEEDING CORALIE: our journey

This post has been a long time in the writing. I wanted to write about our breastfeeding journey second time around as my post about my experience breastfeeding Josephine received so many comments and emails from Mama's who had experienced the same thing. I attempted to write it when Coralie was a few months old and I felt I had got to grips with the whole breastfeeding malarkey but, your know, life with two kiddos got in the way. Then I thought about writing it as Coralie turned one and our journey came to an end. But, well, life with two kiddos got in the way. So, better late than never, here's our story...

I hate to use the word 'closure', but I knew that the only way I'd truly get over and lay to rest all my feelings around my first breastfeeding experience would be to try and succeed in breastfeeding our next baby. And so it was one of the things I was most excited about when we found out we were expecting Coralie. But of course, it was also one of the things I was most nervous about. My milk stopping after ten days with Josephine rocked me to the core. I grieved for a part of motherhood I wouldn't get to experience with her and it took me a long time to get over it.

Of course it in no way affected my relationship with Josephine, or how wonderful, healthy and intelligent she is. But it knocked me - my confidence and my self-belief. By the time Coralie was born I had come to terms with it in most ways, but I knew in my heart I wouldn't completely heal until I had succeeded in breastfeeding her. It was all about me, and knowing I had conquered this.

This time, I had prepared myself too. Not just mentally, but practically. I had tubes of Lanolin nipple cream and the most expensive nipple shields I could find at the ready, and no midwife was going to tell me not to use them this time.

Coralie's first feed was glorious. She latched right on and settled down for a 45 minute feed. I was so happy, and I honestly felt the weight of my last traumatic breastfeeding experience lift (and it really was traumatic. I don't think anyone can fully understand the disappointment and sadness that can come from wanting to breastfeed your child and not be able to unless you've been through it too). As the days went on, I started to get sore and Coralie was often so frantic about feeding that she struggled to latch on. As I tried to work out with the midwives why this was, and use different methods to ensure Coralie was latched on properly, the fear and panic of the same thing happening again set in. I was constantly messaging my best friend Laura (who had had her third baby boy, George, just 3 weeks before I had Coralie and who had also been unable to b'feed her first two boys but was now successfully breastfeeding George) asking for advice.

Around day three I pumped enough milk for Josephine and Ben to feed Coralie using a bottle and to give my sore nipples a rest and then I sterilised the nipple shields. As I went to use them for the first time, I realised they were huge (who knew they came in sizes?!) and Coralie just couldn't get any milk out with them on. I messaged Laura and she sent her husband straight over with an envelope full of different sized and shaped nipple shields that she had collected while attempting to feed her eldest, Oliver. Thank goodness for best friends (and their obliging husbands!) I found a couple that fit perfectly and got straight on to feeding Coralie.

Pain-free. Almost. I sat back, relaxed and she happily drank, drank, drank. The relief was palpable.

Within a couple of days the cracks had begun to heal and we settled into a beautiful rhythm of feeding. Coralie was going 3-4 hours between feeds and then feeding for an hour or so. She was content and happy and sleeping really well for stretches of four hours or so through the night.

And after an initial and substantial weight loss, she was putting weight on too. Despite the midwives advice against them, I felt confident in feeding with the shields - and Coralie was thriving.

Once the cracks and pain were but a distant memory, I tried the odd feed without a shield. But Coralie just couldn't get the latching on. She was frantic and impatient and when I did finally get feeding, she'd quickly pull off and we'd have to start the whole process again. It was stressful for both of us, and I felt sure the poor latch and constant coming off and on wasn't helping her Colic. It seemed like a pointless thing to do when I knew that if I popped a shield on, we'd both be happy within seconds. So I did.

And I fed Coralie with nipple shields every single feed, give or take one or two here and there, for the whole year I breastfed her. They were quick and easy to put on, small enough to carry out in their little case with no problems at all and, as we were sterilising dummies anyway, that process was no extra hassle.

I can wholly and honestly say that without nipple shields, I don't think our breastfeeding journey would have been the same. Whether or not it would have turned out the same way as Josephine's, I'm not sure - but I do know it would have been stressful and painful and could have taken away from those blissful newborn days. I loved every second of feeding Coralie. Each feed in those first months especially, healed the pain I still felt from my first breastfeeding experience. I loved that Josephine would breastfeed all her babies too, and that sometimes she'd even pretend to use a nipple shield.

I've had a few emails, and IG and blog comments, from women asking about how nervous I was about being back in that 'first time' zone. That they too had suffered similar problems with their first babies, but the idea of not knowing what to do with their second was scary. And I agree. It was, in a lot of ways. But it was still SO much easier than being a first-time Mama. I knew everything else I was doing; I knew what went wrong the first time and prepared for it to happen the second time too and most importantly, I trusted my instincts over those of a midwife I had only met five minutes ago and had the confidence to ignore their 'advice' about not using shields.

I have nothing but respect for most of the midwives we met during our pregnancy labour and post-natal period with Coralie (and midwives in general) - they were lovely and supportive and full of brilliant advice and smiles for both our children. But the breastfeeding advice in my experience still fell short, in most cases. Once again there was little preparation for anything but the ideal breastfeeding scenario, and as I got more and more sore there was little more advice than 'just keep going'. I asked about nipple shields in those first few days and was informed of only the negatives - that the baby will never take the breast again, wouldn't get the milk needed blah blah. We asked about expressing to give my boobs a rest, and give me the opportunity to sleep a little longer, but I was met with a stern 'why? It's much better to continue - battle through. There's no need to express. Your baby may not take the breast again after a bottle. She'll get confused.' I trusted my past experience, and the experience of my friends, and I ignored them. When the midwives came, I didn't feed Coralie and to all intends and purposes, kept my expressing and using nipple shields a secret.

Then, when we had our first home visit from the Health Visitor and I was feeding Coralie with shields, I was met with quite ridiculous claims about why I shouldn't be using them. Apparently Coralie would need weighing more regularly because she was likely to not put on weight as well with me using a nipple shield. Had I not been so determined to do this my way, and confident in trusting what I thought was best, I would have been floored by this. To be honest, I still was taken aback and concerned if she could be right. New mothers are so vulnerable, I think most women would have been. Despite this, I continued. 10 days later the Health Visitor popped round again and quickly had to eat her words when Coralie was weighed.

11oz gained in 10 days.

There was no fighting that, and our Health Visitor was blown away. I told her I felt that was good enough for me to carry on using the shields as and when I needed them, and she sheepishly agreed. I felt quite triumphant. But it shouldn't have taken such overwhelming proof that using nipple shields was not the negative most of the health professionals we dealt with had implied.

The reason I'm writing this post, the reason I've kept my word about putting this experience in our journal, is because I fear for those women who are getting the same advice as me and are being told the same scare stories when they bring up the possibility of using nipple shields and expressing. By no means do I think all midwives are saying these things (I know they're not - friends have had very different advice) and I understand that to an extent they're following guidelines. But surely a mother being able to breastfeed her child, by whatever means if that's what she wants, is what we should be striving for? Nipple shields and pumping, whether used for a few days or a few months, can ensure a breastfeeding journey continues when it would have otherwise been cut unnecessarily short, causing, if anything like me, so much disappointed and despair for the mother.

If we have a third baby, and I feel the need to express or use nipple shields again, I hope I have the confidence (in that haze of newborn hormones) to tell the midwives that I disagree if I'm met with the same advice; to tell them about my experience feeding Coralie and to question whether they should be saying such things. Because us Mothers need a break. We need to be supported and not shut down when we ask a question; we need to be told both sides of the story - the risks and the positives. We need to be granted the space to make the right decision for our bodies, and our babies and our families.

With regards to breast vs. bottle, and written by a mother who has fed each of her babies differently, here's my stance. There are so many positives to breastfeeding; it's free (woo!) and it's so practical - on hand, at the right temperature, ready to go as soon as you need it (particularly amazing at 3am!) but I hands down deny the assumption that you will bond better with your baby if you breastfeed. Do I have a better bond with Coralie than Josephine? Don't be ridiculous. Do I love her more? I'm mortified that anyone would ever think that - of course I don't.

The slogan of 'Breast is Best' is all well and good - and I'm most definitely an advocate of breastfeeding - but it's not that simple for so many women. If you choose to use formula, that's great. If you breastfeed with no problems at all - I'm genuinely so happy for you; you are truly lucky. But if, like me, you've struggled and fought and felt both the physical and mental pain of breastfeeding, I hope you find the support you need. And I hope that this post gives someone the confidence they needed to follow their instincts and try something different to give their breastfeeding journey the best chance it has.

Read about my first breastfeeding experience here.

Pictures taken by my lovely sister, towards the end of my breastfeeding journey with Coralie. They will be cherished forever.

REFLECTIONS

Later this week, on January 18th, we will be celebrating Josephine's first birthday. Celebrating the complete joy she has bought to our lives, celebrating the incredible little person she is now and is becoming, and celebrating our first year as three; our first year as parents.

No matter what people tell you, the advice you're given, nothing can prepare you for being a parent. The overwhelming love and happiness that fill your heart every second of every day; the changes such a tiny being can bring; the awesome highs and the exhausting lows.

This time last year we were eagerly awaiting the arrival of our baby. We didn't know if it was a boy or girl growing in my belly (we thought boy!!) and we were going to bed each day wondering if tonight would be the night our baby would start its journey to be with us (baby was already 5 days late by this point). We had chosen the names, washed all the clothes, set up the baby's corner in our bedroom. Our plans had been made.

But not everything goes exactly to plan when you have a baby.

When I was pregnant I remember seeing Claire's post on the ten commandments she'd set herself when she was pregnant. Reading through them I realised that Ben and I had almost exactly the same ideas. I wondered how, on reflection in the months after our baby was born, we'd have done in obeying our own commandments. So here goes...

1. We will birth our baby naturally and calmly, together as three at home. PASSish. Josephine's birth was beautiful. The most wonderful experience. It was calm and natural, but sadly not at home. These babies of ours have their own plans when it comes to making their way into the world and so Phiney was born in hospital. You can read our full birth story here.
2. I will breastfeed our baby, absolutely without doubt. FAIL. Wow, that seems so harsh on myself given everything we went through. But it's the truth. In all honestly I'm not sure I'll get complete closure on the issue until we have another baby and (keeping all fingers and toes crossed) I breastfeed with success. I could write a whole post regarding my feelings about breastfeeding, one year on. Maybe I will. In the meantime, read the whole story here. I just re-read it and my heart broke a little. And then I read all your amazing, supportive comments and it mended a bit. You guys are just awesome.
3. We will use cloth nappies as much as possible. PASSish. At home we use them a lot, but the truth is, for us, disposables are just so much easier when you're out and about. And in the depths of winter, when it takes 3 days for nappies to dry, it's hard. But our plan was to use reuseables as much as possible and I believe we do that. Most of the time.
4. Vintage stores and the charity shop will be the main source of clothing and toys for our little one. PASS. With flying colours, I might add. Apart from gifts and the odd bargain sale piece, the only things that aren't vintage, secondhand or handmade in Josephine's wardrobe are basics. Tights, vests, t-shirts and leggings. Go me.
5. All food will be made with our own fair hands. PASSish. I would say 98% of the food Phiney eats is handmade. It is with great pride I write this, especially given that until around 5 months ago, I could barely boil an egg (Ben's the cook - and a bloody good one - in this house). Now I am the maker of most of her meals.
6. Baby will fit in with our routine, not the other way round. FAIL. Ha! This may have worked until Phiney was around 5 months old, but when we implemented a more structured nap and bedtime routine, it went completely out the window.
7. There will be no TV watching, especially children's channels. Instead we will read and play games. PASS/FAIL. In those first few months, when Josephine would feed then sleep, feed then sleep, I watched a lot of TV. Seriously, a lot. Thank goodness for Netflix. But as she started to play games and be more aware, I was pretty good at keeping the TV off. Today, I'd say the TV is mostly off but sometimes, when we've had a bad night, early morning or a grumpy baby I need a bit of adult company in the day. And Jamie's 15/30 Minute Meals is pure research ;)
8. We will go for a walk at least once a day. PASS. We love our walks. To the park, along the canal, to the shops. Everyday, at least once. It is always a joy to walk and talk to our little bird.
9. We will not clear shelves or move fragile pieces from easily accessible places. PASS. Sure there are days, when I've said 'no' a thousand times, that it is tempting to move picture frames and ceramic pots and cds and game consoles onto higher ground, but ultimately Phiney is doing really well at understanding there are some things she's just not allowed to play with. I'm particularly pleased with passing this one.  
10. We will not use a dummy. PASS/FAIL. Although I feel saying 'pass' is a total cheat. We bought a whole host of dummies when Phiney was born and we discovered that she very loudly made her dislike of being put down known to us. Unfortunately she refused every. Single. One. Now I see it as a blessing (no difficult weaning needed) but at the time we would have loved it if she'd happily kept one in her mouth! 

On the whole I think we've done rather well. Sure, there are a lot pass/fails but heck, I'll take that. High fives to us.

ps. There will be a whole lot more on the subject of my learning to cook and our love of secondhand fashion in a new series I'm going to start next week.

Picture by Tori

*

This is the hardest blog post I've ever written. So many of my emotions on the subject are still raw and it's only now I can vocalise in some way the sadness, disappointment, regret and shame that I have felt over the last few months.

When Josephine was 10 days old, after some of the most difficult days of my life, my breast milk stopped and our breastfeeding journey was suddenly taken from us.

 

We always knew that we wanted to breastfeed our baby. It was something we didn't even need to discuss, so sure were we that it was the best thing for our child; the most natural and most convenient. Of course it wasn't necessarily going to be easy, and it could take a couple of months to really settle into the flow of things, but it would be amazing and beautiful and totally worth it. 

When we saw the breastfeeding nurse just after Josephine was born, and Phiney latched on for the first time, the nurse couldn't believe it was the first time I'd done it. We both seemed to have grasped this feeding malarkey instantly and within 5 minutes Josephine was snuggled up on my chest, enjoying her first taste of milk. I felt as much pride in myself at that moment as I did in the seconds after I birthed her, and I could see in Ben's eyes the joy at his wife nursing our baby. For two days, it was feeding bliss. She was feeding a lot, a lot, but I knew that was quite normal and I was loving every second of it, even confidently nursing in front of visiting friends and family.

Then on the third day, I started to get sore. Again, something I had expected to happen, but no less painful all the same. Our midwives watched Josephine latch on a few times, approved of my technique and advised buying some Lanolin to help with the soreness. The next day, the greasiness of the Lanolin had taken effect, soothed my cracking skin, and feeding was once again pain free. For now.

I could easily give a day by day blow of the following week or two. The good feeds and bad. The tears, the pain, the confusion as to whether or not the constant feeding and agony was normal. But to be honest, it all blurred into one long battle. Every day we discussed what was happening with the midwives and every day they assured us this was normal. But it was pain unlike anything I had ever felt and far worse than I had ever anticipated. Plus there was no let up, with Josephine often taking only minutes between hour long feeds; a pattern that continued through the day and night.

Soon I was advised by our midwife to stop feeding on my left side, so deep was the crack in my nipple. Feeding on that breast felt like someone stabbing me over and over again. So we bought a hand-held breast pump and I pumped the left side after Josephine had fed on the right side. The first day of our new routine worked great. The relief of not feeding Josephine from the left side was enormous and I could see some light at the end of the tunnel. But the next day I awoke to a practically empty left breast. And despite an hour or so of pumping, I managed to express barely an ounce. We talked to our midwife and were told to keep pumping it, just in case the milk started once more, but they warned us that if one side stops, it's likely the other side would too. After a few days of pumping, breastfeeding and formula, I awoke to find the right breast just as deflated. And that was that. It went as quickly as it came, and apart from the odd drip here and there, nothing would bring it back. 

So that's the facts. That's what happened on the outside. But it was what was happening on the inside that turned our world upside down for those weeks, and why I wanted to write our story for this blog. 

The emotional turmoil of not being able to successfully feed your child is something I can't explain. I think of myself as a happy-go-lucky and positive person, but these were the darkest of my life. As the days went by I even began to doubt the bond between Josephine and I. I started to dread being handed my tiny daughter; my own child. This fragile, beautiful creature that was relying on me. I'd find excuses to delay feeding her for just a minute more and I'd have to psyche myself up to her latching on. I would stand in the shower crying. I would sit in the dark, crying. When I spilt 6 ounces and an hour's pumping worth of milk all over our bed, I felt as though I had tipped away the most sacred of liquids and I cried. I barely managed to hold myself together when we had visitors, but when it was just Ben and I, I would break down. Going back and forth as to whether I could continue this journey. Hating myself for my lack of determination and for feeling anything but love towards Josephine.

We knew that the worst days hit as the very common Baby Blues arrived, but on day 8 I asked Ben if he thought it was just Baby Blues or if I was experiencing something worse. I couldn't bring myself to say the words, but I found myself reading the chapter on post-natal depression in the pregnancy book our doctor had given us. Ben knows me better than anyone in the world and during those weeks displayed strength unlike that I've ever seen from him. He took charge; cared for his girls, soothed me, comforted me and supported me. He told me that he believed I wasn't yet on that path, but that maybe I was at the gate; unsure whether or not to take it. We knew then we had to do something to change the situation because, honestly, it had started to take away the joy of those first days of parenthood; our first glorious days with Phiney.

Looking back, the advice given to us by our midwives during those weeks was often contradictory and confusing. We were told on more than one occasion that our positioning was perfect, before a new midwife realised I was moving my boob into Josephine rather than putting her in line with where it naturally sat, probably causing the friction and ultimately the pain. I was told not to use nipple shields as these would stop milk production and yet my friend Ash was told to give them a go by a midwife based at the same doctor's surgery as us, and is, 4 months later, still feeding her daughter using them as she won't latch on otherwise. And we remember fleeting comments regarding my milk production, or lack of. Something that we didn't really pick up on at the time, given our seriously tired states. Today we wonder if I was ever producing enough milk; if that was why Josephine was feeding so much for so long, which led to me getting so sore, being in so much pain and ultimately my milk stopping deso easily. But who really knows. On some level Ben and I think my body just decided to shut it down, stop the pain - both physical and emotional. That it knew my stubborn nature would never give in and that, maybe, real psychological damage could be done. But who really knows. 

What I do know is this; Josephine didn't care where her milk came from. Bottle, boob; formula or breast milk, as long as she was getting fed. For that we are truly thankful. It was me who was left scarred and broken. I find myself explaining the whole situation whenever we are asked if we bottle or breast feed, and I still want to stand up in cafes whenever I get out a bottle and shout to everyone that it wasn't my choice to feed her this way. Peering through my fringe, expecting to see glances of judgement from other women. Because, honestly, I was probably someone who would have done that before. And I've held back from writing certain posts here that make some remark to bottle feeding, as I wanted to explain the situation to you all first.

Over the last few months I've been astounded by the recollection of similar stories and situations from other new mothers I've met. Some have battled through and some, like me, had that decision taken away from them. I think that the method with which you choose to feed your child is entirely your decision. It's about what makes you happy, and your baby happy, and that's a great thing. But I can't help but feel I was robbed of that choice. That my body let me down by failing at the job it was built to do; to feed my child. I still, to a certain extent, feel envy when I see my friends breastfeeding and shame when I pull a bottle from my bag. It's something I'm working on to get over, dealing with in my own way. Because in my heart I know that I did all I could to keep breastfeeding, and went beyond what many people would to give Josephine the best start in life. Our daughter is sweet and lovely, divine and bright, alert and growing perfectly: that's all that matters. 

I decided to write this post because I honestly felt that the difficult side of breastfeeding, and I mean the really difficult side, is often kept quiet and hidden away as if something to be ashamed of. I felt at times like I was the only one who felt like giving into the pain and wished I could have read more than fleeting sentences exclaiming the odd bit of discomfort. Yet when I spoke of our situation to those other new mothers, I felt comforted and reassured. I don't want to scare anyone or put anyone off, after all so many women seem to have a comparatively easy time. And the days when it was good were the most beautiful; I would go through it all again 100 times to experience those moments once more. I just wanted to share my story. To let anyone else experiencing the same thing know that you're not alone. And that whatever happens, you're doing an awesome job.

I feel only adoration and love for my daughter and utter joy when I'm with her, and I in no way believe that bottle-feeding her has affected our bond. It hasn't; pure and simple. In fact going through that experience with her, and Ben, has only strengthened our bond as a family, I'm sure.

Someday, when baby number two arrives, we'll try breastfeeding again. Only this time we'll be more prepared for wherever that journey takes us.


Ben took this picture when Josephine was 5 days old. I will always cherish it.