Shortly after, a midwife appeared at my bed. “She needs to be fed now, we can’t leave her any longer. I’ve got a bottle for her.”
It was so matter of fact. I was unable to reply; I was numb. I knew she was needing something but I had never considered that “something” being anything but my milk.
The midwife took her out of my arms. Suddenly the atmosphere shifted and my daughter was placed in an incubator.
I was told she was cold and needed heat. I wasn’t offered kangaroo care and unfortunately I didn’t even know I could request it.
I watched in silence as a midwife held a bottle of artificial milk to her lips, as she was lying inside a plastic womb, and I didn’t think I had the right to say anything. I felt powerless and exhausted.
Within minutes of being fed, my daughter was crying again and I wasn’t even allowed to touch her. I wondered if this is what you feel like when you’ve lost all control, weak and just missing. I felt as though I had gotten lost in the woods and circled the same spot for hours without getting anywhere.
I rocked the incubator and softly sang the lullabies my mum had sung to me. I really didn’t know if I had anything else to give.
A mother for only nine hours, I had already failed terribly.
I was trying my best to hand-express, to try and find some peace in the chaos around me. So when I was offered a breast pump, I finally felt empowered.
I pumped for the rest of the night, continuing past the early morning hours. I swapped breasts when I felt there was nothing else to extract and I expressed syringe after syringe of colostrum.
Soon my child was back in my arms and I got to give her my milk; it didn’t come directly from my breast but it was my milk, nonetheless.
Those first breastfeeding attempts destroyed any chances I had of ever breastfeeding her and every attempt that followed was met with distress, but at least she was fed with my milk.
What I find truly upsetting is that there are campaigns encouraging breastfeeding and making mothers aware that this is the optimal way to nourish babies. Yet, the atmosphere within many maternity wards tells a different story.
What I find truly upsetting is that there are campaigns encouraging breastfeeding and making mothers aware that this is the optimal way to nourish babies. Yet, the atmosphere within many maternity wards tells a different story.
When I gave birth to my daughter, I was naive and believed that those caring for me after birth, would consider breastfeeding the only option – as I did.
The breastfeeding support available in most maternity wards around the world is not sufficient and education on what to expect as a new mother isn’t available as readily as it should be.
If someone had offered me a nipple shield instead of a bottle, our journey may not have consisted of expressed breast milk. Had I had access to breastfeeding support that first night, I may have been able to breastfeed my firstborn child instead of being told my nipples weren’t good enough.
But I was not.
When I found out I was pregnant with my second child, I spent seven months researching how to overcome any challenges there may be and although some rough times followed, I understood infant development, cluster feeding and infant sleep.
I refused all support from the local hospital with my son, and through determination have almost reached the end of our four-year-long breastfeeding journey.
As a result of my experiences, I have become a natural term breastfeeding advocate and volunteer my free time as a breastfeeding peer supporter. I have become very passionate about supporting mothers and I love how many mothers are curious about breastfeeding.
Unfortunately, time and time again I see how hospitals and understaffed maternity wards struggle not only to offer breastfeeding support, but also have a lack of staff sufficiently trained in understanding the biological function of breastfeeding.
It really is time that we return to trusting our own bodies and listen to our babies; all that is lacking is the support new mothers need – support which should be a human right!
Sofie Thomson is a writer, breastfeeding advocate and (breastfeeding) peer supporter from Sweden, now living in the Scottish Highlands with her husband and children. Since completing her degree in Child and Youth Studies, she has focused on encouraging parents to follow biological norms and trust their natural parenting instincts via her blog – The Gentle Mum. You can also follow her on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram.
