Why Breastfeeding is Hard: a Punch to the Face

When I was pregnant, I read all the birth stories I could find.  Most of them wrapped up with this vague comment: "...and breastfeeding is hard."  I'm the sort of person who likes to be prepared (and have things spelled out for her in gory detail) so I wondered: what about it was hard, exactly?  Was it supply issues?  Pain?  The physical mechanics of it?

Well, as it turns out, it could be all or none of the above; breastfeeding is a pretty personal thing, and often both people involved are completely inexperienced.  But regardless of your personal situation, I think many people experience what I did in those first few days after the birth of my son.  Even when breastfeeding goes relatively smoothly, Breastfeeding is Hard, and here's why.

We had a perfectly auspicious beginning; even with the mag I had to take in labor, Thumper came out strong and alert.  I didn't really know how to make him latch on, but the nurses helped and when he did, he was a little vacuum.  I knew I had colostrum - the stuff you get before the real milk comes in -because I had leaked here and there throughout the end of pregnancy.  It was only a tiny amount, but the baby's stomach is only something like the size of a marble, so it fills up quickly.

It also empties quickly.  So here's what we have: a baby that gets hungry frequently.  Nipples that are getting sore (one actually turned black and blue, but I got that worked out eventually).  Meanwhile, you're told that the baby will get more full once the "real" milk comes in, which happens within 2-5 days.  So you're waiting... and waiting.

Most babies lose some weight right after they're born, especially if you're on an IV because they're all inflated with extra fluid.  Mine lost a few ounces, but not anything the doctors were concerned with, so I knew he wasn't starving.  However, Thumper was born on Tuesday night.  On Friday afternoon, when I left the hospital, I was still waiting for that milk to come in.

As I've mentioned previously, my hospital was very encouraging of breastfeeding.  A few of the nurses were also lactation consultants, and came in to check out the baby's latch.  I wasn't given any free samples of formula, and I was told over and over again about stuff like nipple confusion (try to limit pacifiers, one said) and not introduce bottles for awhile.  Not a problem; I hadn't even bought bottles.  I didn't think I'd need them.  After all, my mother had nursed me until I was a year old, and that was my goal too.  In theory I should have been feeling supported and confident and knowledgeable.

There's one other factor, though:  hormones.  In pregnancy you're all pumped up with hormones.  After birth they get carried away with the placenta and you actually go through sort of a mini-menopause, with hot flashes and sweating and mood swings like I've never experienced in my life.  We're not talking the anger of PMS or crying at a commercial with an abused dog.  We're talking crying at anything, just because.  I sobbed because my husband brought me something to eat.

I'd already cracked and given my screaming baby a pacifier in the hospital and felt like a bad mom then (the hospital provides them, because that was another thing I thought I wouldn't need.  Yeah, right.).  In retrospect, it wasn't that big of a deal (and there never was any nipple confusion) but those hormones made it the worst thing in the world.  Now here I was, at home, still feeding the kid pretty much constantly, still waiting for that magic milk to come in. Crying all the time, and knowing that there's a very real possibility it might not come in at all, wondering if I'm starving my baby.  Oh, and sleep was pretty much nonexistent, which I'm sure just added to the mix of irrationality.  Yet there I was, having to rely blindly on faith, and I am not a person who does that very often.

The milk came in Sunday afternoon, pretty much at the last possible minute.  The next day we went to the doctor for his one-week checkup, and he'd already regained his birth weight and put on an extra ounce. No reason for concern.   But I felt like I'd just survived a battle.  And that, my friends, is what we call a smooth beginning.

Now, we didn't have friends or family in town, so we didn't have anyone saying encouraging things throughout this process.  The Yeti was willing to go along with whatever I said in the matter, but he couldn't be very reassuring when he's as clueless as me.  On the other hand, I'm reasonably sure if my mother or mother-in-law had been there, they would have encouraged me to go for formula at the first sign of distress, because that's just what they did in those days (I think I was the only one of my siblings who was breastfed, and even then probably not exclusively), so I didn't have anyone undermining my decisions, either.  Also I had read all of this on the internet before, so I should have expected this would happen.  And still, in the moment, with the hungry baby and the hormones and the sleep deprivation, it was incredibly, incredibly hard.

So you start off breastfeeding with a punch to the face, more or less.  Only after you get through that do you get to assess stuff like supply and latch and reflux.  For whatever reason, this was a battle I chose, and I've been proud of the fact that I've been successful thus far.  But I don't think it's as simple as just toughening up and choosing your battle; there's also just the luck of the draw.  Yes, I've stuck with breastfeeding, but I've had minimal complications.  And it's still challenging.  Some days I think, "Ah, this is much more convenient these days, I'm glad I have the option to not pump and not have to clean bottles all the time.  Feeding him real food will be a hassle."  Other days, I think, "I'm a third of the way there.  I just need to stick it out a little longer."

Thus you'll get no judgment from me when it comes to getting a baby fed.  What's best is what produces a full baby and a sane mom.  Breastfeeding is pretty cool, and for me it did get easier, but it can often start as an uphill battle when you're at your most fragile.  And that's why, no matter how smoothly it appears to be going, we trust the woman who says Breastfeeding is Hard.