Unhappy Beginnings

If you ration yourself through the pregnancy books, not reading ahead, you get to Week 37 and they say "Congratulations, your baby is now full-term!" The end. So there you are, with 3 to 5 weeks left to kill and nothing new or interesting to learn about pregnancy except the very ominous "half a pound a week" that your baby will continue to gain.

At that point, if you're anything like me, it dawns upon you that any day now you will have a newborn baby thrust in your arms and you've no idea what to do with it. You rock back and forth, preparing to haul your big self up off the couch or bed and dash out to get What to Expect the First Year, and everything else you can find on the topic.

I don't remember when I decided to breastfeed. I suppose, like going to university, I always understood that I would. My mom had tried, but couldn't due to lack of milk, but two of my cousins did nurse. One didn't say much about it but did pump and freeze milk; the other battled early mastitis and continued pain, but stuck it out for 15 months.

I was left on my own to learn about teaspoon sized tummies, latches and let-downs. Between trips to the loo I learned science, like breastmilk is more easily digested. I learned economics, like supply and demand. I learned sociology, like nursing will help you keep your bond when you go back to work. I learned witchcraft, like immunoglobulins protect against disease and mothers who don't sterilize. I learned culinary skills, like how to skim to tide over for an hour and how to double cream to eek out an extra hour's sleep. I even learned religion, like supplementation and taking home the free formula samples were the road to hell. I don't know that all this knowledge gave me confidence, but it did give me perspective.

Despite not getting to hold Johnny until he was 3 hours old, missing that "2-hour window of alerness," things started out pretty well. He seemed to be getting loads of colostrum as production on the bottom end was five times the norm.

When he was a day old they came and took him for his circumcision, which is when things started going downhill. They say newborns don't really feel pain and that a few drops of sugar water and some topical anaesthetic is all they need. Bull. My little boy screamed if I held him close to nurse so when he went to sleep and stayed that way for 6 hours I just left him to it, poor guy.

The delivering doctor's words that welcomed our son into the world were "It's a toddler!" and by two days old, he was ready to eat like one. The lactation consultant came around as my nipples were ready to fall off and pointed out the tell-tale line showing he was latching onto nipple and not areola, but also that he was swallowing on the third suck so definitely getting something to eat. I persevered. Every hour I nursed him 15 minutes a side and then he spent the next half hour crying until I nursed him again.

It's ironic that the narcotics for the c-section pain did nothing at all for the nipples. I was ready to sue Medela for falsely advertising their lanolin as it did absolutely nothing either. The cherry on top was that my father-in-law had decided that the day before bringing the baby home was when he and my husband should install the kitchen cabinets, countertop and sink, so I was also all alone.

One of the books had forewarned that eventually there would be a point where both mother and baby would be crying, but when you read something like that you think "Not me! I'm prepared." I just don't think there is any preparation for the feeling that you're starving your newborn, even if the nurse and the pediatrician and the lactation consultant and every book on the planet say Do Not Supplement Your Baby, He Is Okay.

Thank God for the pediatric nurse who picked up the phone and deciphered through my sobs "please bring me something for my son to eat." I'm really grateful for the little bottles of formula she brought me and the half ounce that was all it took for Johnny and I to get some sleep, but I'm most grateful for her advice. "It's your baby, do what you think is right."

My milk eventually came in late on the 4th day. That wasn't the end of my woes, though. We never did get the latch right in the beginning and it was my husband who saved us there by discovering nipple shields, the $6 wonder that makes your baby latch on correctly and dulls the pain. It took 2 months for the initial few minutes of pain to cease and for me to brave giving up the nipple shields. Once I did, though, I was very pleased to see that Johnny had a perfect latch and finally lying down to nurse was simply heavenly.