Why I Do What I Do...
People often ask me "What made you so passionate about breastfeeding?". Its kind of a long story.
Carlos
I had my now-teenage son when I was 18. My entire pregnancy, my dream was to nurse him. I knew that it was the one thing nobody could do in my place. Just as my womb bore him, so would my breasts nourish him...or not.
To make a really long story not super long, I spent the first week of his life trying to overcome breastfeeding obstacles. I tried overcoming my obstetrician's recommendation (in pregnancy) not to breastfeed him "because I was too young", I tried overcoming the hospital nurse's attempts at removing him from my room because I needed to "rest", and because they could give him "free formula" anyway. I tried overcoming the pediatrician's advice not to nurse him because he was too "jaundice". I tried overcoming a life-time of hearing how breastfeeding was only a dream to my mother who "tried but did not succeed". Bless her heart.
After that first week, I knew how my mother felt...and I lived with it for 12 years until I had my little girl. It affected my securiy level about being a young mother. It was a real loss for me. I grieved the fact that by no desire of my own, my community "helped" me outsource my maternity to a cow...it helped me by facilitating dozens of cans of formula which I would have been "foolish" not to accept...after all, it was free!
What I REALLY needed, was meaningful emotional and technical support, someone who believed in me, who smiled at me and didn't think I was insane for sneaking in nursing sessions...but I also needed someone who wouldn't chastize me for succombing to society's desire for my son to formula-fed.
After I had my son, I knew there had to be a better way for mothers like me. It was a gnawing feeling, but it didn't have a name.
Alejandra
Twelve years later, I finally married and had my little girl. My hopes of having her at home vanished when our insurance changed mid-pregnancy, and I began having complications requiring a hospital-birth. Fearful the institutionalized breastfeeding "support" I had received 12 years prior, I did everything I could to prepare emotionally to receive my little one at the breast. I read books, watched videos, interviewed pediatricians, reached out to support groups, you name it.
I received Alejandra in my arms, her intact reflexes leading her straight to my breasts. She stared at them...and hovered...and didn't latch. Thankfully, I had expressed colostrum during labor, and she was well nourished. Interestingly, it was that stored colostrum which cause the demise of my relationship with the lactation consultant who visited me. She cheered for the amount I had, gave me educational material, and left my room. After all, I did have colostrum expressed for her.
Thankfully, she was in my room long enough for me to read her badge. It said "IBCLC". Ironically, it was the name of the "better way" I knew needed to exist 12 year previously. She was an "International Board Certified Lactation Consultant". She was who I needed to "fix" my daughter and me...except she was busy, and my colostrum in a bottle helped me go to the bottom of her cue that day. She had babies in the NICU waiting who desperately needed their mother's colostrum. I was spoiled to imagine I could get her time. And good thing, because I never did. I know her now, and she's an amazing person and IBCLC, but of the 20 moms on her list that day, my latch issue just wasn't a priority. Alejandra didn't latch for three weeks, until my mom came home with a box full of garage-sale items...one of which was a still-in-the-box nipple shield. With it, she latched within seconds...but my breast pain increased. Ironically, I was the one who "sucked it up". At least she was at the breast now.
For the next three months, I reached out. I reached out to almost all of our hospital systems, I reached out to our support groups...I left messages, I sent smoke signals, and finally when Alejandra was three months old...I got an appointment at a lactation clinic. Interestingly, despite the fact that she was latched prosthetically (with a nipple shield), no one commented on her latch, on her clicking, or seemed to believe that I was in pain. They saw the amount she transferred on a scale and told me I was a good "producer" and sent me home...without a plan, and in a lot of pain. But Alej was growing so that's all that mattered to them...numbers on a piece of paper represented success. Meanwhile, I was embarrassed to let anyone see my nursing with a prosthetic nipple.
At three and a half months, after losing the thousanth nipple shield (they look like contact lenses-totally see-through), I told my baby that she'd either latch without it, or starve. She chose latching after about half a day...and the gadget was a thing of the past.
Carlos
I had my now-teenage son when I was 18. My entire pregnancy, my dream was to nurse him. I knew that it was the one thing nobody could do in my place. Just as my womb bore him, so would my breasts nourish him...or not.
To make a really long story not super long, I spent the first week of his life trying to overcome breastfeeding obstacles. I tried overcoming my obstetrician's recommendation (in pregnancy) not to breastfeed him "because I was too young", I tried overcoming the hospital nurse's attempts at removing him from my room because I needed to "rest", and because they could give him "free formula" anyway. I tried overcoming the pediatrician's advice not to nurse him because he was too "jaundice". I tried overcoming a life-time of hearing how breastfeeding was only a dream to my mother who "tried but did not succeed". Bless her heart.
After that first week, I knew how my mother felt...and I lived with it for 12 years until I had my little girl. It affected my securiy level about being a young mother. It was a real loss for me. I grieved the fact that by no desire of my own, my community "helped" me outsource my maternity to a cow...it helped me by facilitating dozens of cans of formula which I would have been "foolish" not to accept...after all, it was free!
What I REALLY needed, was meaningful emotional and technical support, someone who believed in me, who smiled at me and didn't think I was insane for sneaking in nursing sessions...but I also needed someone who wouldn't chastize me for succombing to society's desire for my son to formula-fed.
After I had my son, I knew there had to be a better way for mothers like me. It was a gnawing feeling, but it didn't have a name.
Alejandra
Twelve years later, I finally married and had my little girl. My hopes of having her at home vanished when our insurance changed mid-pregnancy, and I began having complications requiring a hospital-birth. Fearful the institutionalized breastfeeding "support" I had received 12 years prior, I did everything I could to prepare emotionally to receive my little one at the breast. I read books, watched videos, interviewed pediatricians, reached out to support groups, you name it.
I received Alejandra in my arms, her intact reflexes leading her straight to my breasts. She stared at them...and hovered...and didn't latch. Thankfully, I had expressed colostrum during labor, and she was well nourished. Interestingly, it was that stored colostrum which cause the demise of my relationship with the lactation consultant who visited me. She cheered for the amount I had, gave me educational material, and left my room. After all, I did have colostrum expressed for her.
Thankfully, she was in my room long enough for me to read her badge. It said "IBCLC". Ironically, it was the name of the "better way" I knew needed to exist 12 year previously. She was an "International Board Certified Lactation Consultant". She was who I needed to "fix" my daughter and me...except she was busy, and my colostrum in a bottle helped me go to the bottom of her cue that day. She had babies in the NICU waiting who desperately needed their mother's colostrum. I was spoiled to imagine I could get her time. And good thing, because I never did. I know her now, and she's an amazing person and IBCLC, but of the 20 moms on her list that day, my latch issue just wasn't a priority. Alejandra didn't latch for three weeks, until my mom came home with a box full of garage-sale items...one of which was a still-in-the-box nipple shield. With it, she latched within seconds...but my breast pain increased. Ironically, I was the one who "sucked it up". At least she was at the breast now.
For the next three months, I reached out. I reached out to almost all of our hospital systems, I reached out to our support groups...I left messages, I sent smoke signals, and finally when Alejandra was three months old...I got an appointment at a lactation clinic. Interestingly, despite the fact that she was latched prosthetically (with a nipple shield), no one commented on her latch, on her clicking, or seemed to believe that I was in pain. They saw the amount she transferred on a scale and told me I was a good "producer" and sent me home...without a plan, and in a lot of pain. But Alej was growing so that's all that mattered to them...numbers on a piece of paper represented success. Meanwhile, I was embarrassed to let anyone see my nursing with a prosthetic nipple.
At three and a half months, after losing the thousanth nipple shield (they look like contact lenses-totally see-through), I told my baby that she'd either latch without it, or starve. She chose latching after about half a day...and the gadget was a thing of the past.
