She smiled at me, she was optimistic! Yet, as my son started to root without achieving a latch, I felt all hope fading. Immediately, I felt as though I had gone back in time to the moment my daughter tried to latch unsuccessfully. The midwife gently reassured me and repositioned my little boy. Suddenly I felt a tickle and a seal. I felt my son latch and I cried, overwhelmed with relief and happiness. This moment was one I had never experienced with my daughter. It was bitter sweet.
The midwife stayed with me for the next 2 hours. She helped me reattach the shield and work on how to position with a large chest.
Every time my son came off, she returned, ready to help. She was the support I desperately needed.
The following morning, a breastfeeding support worker visited. She was encouraging and lovely but was unimpressed with the use of shields. She informed me that my son would be able to breastfeed without them, just as I had been reassured the same with my daughter. She explained to me that positioning would be the key and she asked if she could try to help latch him on. I expressed that I appreciated her expertise but that I knew my nipples better than she did. Yet after debating it for what felt like hours, I agreed to try without the shields, as long as my son didn’t get upset. “I don’t want him to fear my breast as my daughter did,” I explained.
She laid my son down next to me, encouraged him to open his mouth wide and tried to latch him. Then again. And again. My breast was met with frustrated screams. Somehow I gathered the strength to tell her I wouldn’t be needing her support anymore. I realised I would have to do this on my own.
In hospital, there is a policy that you must have established feeding before you are discharged. Apparently breastfeeding with shields wasn’t considered “established”, so we were at a crossroad. I refused to accept “help” and they wouldn’t let me go home until they were satisfied he was fed properly. I was tired and I wanted to be reunited with my daughter, so I lied. I told them I would be formula feeding. We left that night, and I fully intended to exclusively breastfeed.
Our journey wasn’t an easy one. I think we must have experienced most obstacles. I had retained placenta which meant my milk took longer to come in, which of course didn’t help! My son was neat and a “slow gainer” so I expressed to top up. I had blood blisters and cracked nipples, mastitis and blebs. Blocked ducts were frequent as a result of oversupply.
We persevered and together we got through it, a team of two!
There was such a stigma attached to the nipple shields and I found professionals continually dismissing them, expressing how they could interfere. In our case, they didn’t and in fact, they went on to save our breastfeeding relationship. I used shields during breastfeeding, for four months, after which we were able to wean off them.
When I’ve told my story, one of which I’m incredibly proud, I often get asked if it was “worth it” and my answer is always the same. “Absolutely, yes! I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”
I also find that when I share my struggles, I’m met with defensiveness. I’m met with explanations and excuses for why someone hasn’t breastfed. I’ve been called “judgey pants” and “sanctimonious”. I’ve been told that formula is just as good as breast milk and of course there are endless accounts of babies who have been formula fed yet are healthy as anything, and breastfed babies who are continually ill.
Instead of reacting to these and entering in to an argument, I have learned to empathise. I’ve been the mother who felt attacked as a result of someone else’s breastfeeding achievement. I’ve been the mother who had to come to terms with the fact that she had to give her baby something that was never going to be optimal.
I’ve been the mother desperate to defend her actions and solutions. I know that often that mother is hurting and all she needs is love and support.
However, I don’t believe we should shield mothers from the facts, just be careful with how we present them.
My success isn’t an attack on you. It’s not an attempt to belittle you or make you feel that you’ve failed your child. My success is a result of determination and luck – it is not an achievement beyond yours. It’s just a different one.
I’m incredibly proud of the fact that I’ve breastfed my son – that is not a reflection on your achievements.
It’s just my story.
The Gentle Mum is a woman, simply trying to maneuver through motherhood with empathy and respect. Between training to become a breastfeeding peer supporter, completing her degree in Youth and Child studies and pursuing her writing hobby, she can be found on the school run, flustered whilst trying to be the best mother she can possibly be. These are her thoughts and musings on life, alongside the ups and downs of motherhood.
