A Breastfeeding Story…
Thank you to Rachel Katyl for sharing this story!
I thought it would be easy. Women have been doing this for centuries. But your entrance to the world wasn’t typical and our breastfeeding journey wasn’t either. I had seen videos of newborns cuddling up on their mother’s chest and clamping down. Easy peasy. But you weren’t there to cuddle up or clamp down. You were across town being taken care of by some of the best nurses and doctors in the country. My body was ready to go though. It knew its job and even though you weren’t there, my milk came in. I had to use the pump which I, of course, had no clue how to work. Looking back, the nurses didn’t seem that sure how to use it either. So, that’s how our breastfeeding “journey” began—hooked up to a machine, beeping, whirling, and with me wondering how the hell this was supposed to work.
Fast forward to a couple days later. I was finally getting discharged from the hospital where I had you. I was finally able to leave and come see you and my breasts were rock hard. I was in so much pain. I learned that I was “engorged”. No one had mentioned this in the birth prep or breastfeeding prep class. It was Christmas Eve, but by some miracle, a lactation consultant was working and came to see me. She overwhelmed me with her instructions, but in the end, she helped me get the milk out by a crazy combination of warm compresses, ice, and pumping.
Oh the pump. How many hours I’d log with that pump in the coming months. More than I could count. I began pumping every two to three hours. That’s how often you’d be eating if you were breastfeeding. I had to keep it up. I had to keep up my supply.
Looking back, I’m glad I did it, but god, exclusively pumping was really hard. The worst was the middle of the night. We’d come home late after spending all day in the hospital NICU with you. I’d go to bed and set my alarm for the wee hours—usually 2 am so I could get up and pump. It was December and the house was so cold and dark. I felt so sad in those moments. I wanted to be with you. I wanted you to come home. I wanted to be sleeping. I wanted to be a good mom.
Eventually, the hospital staff said you were strong enough to try breastfeeding. Yay! One of the consultants came to help and I was glad she was there. I was still really nervous holding you with all the wires. She helped you get into position and by some miracle, you did it! You latched on and ate a little or at least tried to. I think I cried. I have a photo of us afterwards. I felt so proud of us both. Unfortunately, our future attempts were not as successful. Your dad or the nurses would try to wrestle you onto my breast. Sometimes it worked and a lot of the time it didn’t, leaving both you and me really frustrated. One day one of the nurses told me that today was the day. You were going to ONLY breastfeed (vs. a combination of breastfeeding and bottle-feeding). I was pessimistic, but we gave it a go. And you did it!
Fast forward to getting home from the hospital. You were about 10 days old and your dad and I had no clue what we were doing. We were tired and stressed and not getting great sleep. You ended up losing weight and the pediatrician became obsessive about us coming in to have your weight checked. I became very stressed that something was wrong—I didn’t have enough milk, your latch wasn’t right, we were doing it all wrong! It turned out that you were a sleepy eater and that you were falling asleep a few minutes into each feed. I tried every trick in the book to keep you awake. Nothing worked! Finally, we tried supplementing breastfeeding with formula and that did the trick. You started eating enough that you took naps (thank you Jesus!) and you also started breastfeeding better.
Somewhere along this time we met with Linda, the lactation consultant at Mercy AKA an angel of God. She gave me a giant pep talk and told me everything was gonna be ok. She also showed me how to breastfeed and walk around. What is this magic!?! I decided to persevere. I wanted to do this! And let’s be honest, formula is really expensive!
Slowly, we got things down. It was a process, but luckily, babies eat a zillion times per day so we had many chances to practice. I also talked to Cheryl, my friend Emily’s mom who is a lactation consultant and she encouraged me (and prayed for me because I was in rough shape when we talked—I was crying minutes into the call).
When I returned to work, breastfeeding took on a whole new meaning. Now I was required to do my full-time job while also taking breaks to pump. Never mind that I was sleep deprived, exhausted, and overwhelmed about being back at work. The pumping room became a safe space where I went every day to pump, cry, text, and look at photos of you. Pumping milk was kind of weird. In those moments, I thought about you and worried about you. Sometimes I called your daycare and asked how you were doing. Even though technically my employer had to give me time to pump, I ended up eating lunch in the pump room everyday and also started skipping my daily walks because I felt like I couldn’t afford more time away from my desk. Both the lack of socialization and lack of exercise had a negative effect on my mental health.
Throughout the process of pumping and working, I wanted to quit more times than I can count. If I documented it, it would have probably been upwards of 100 times that I contemplated stopping. It was so hard... but I kept on keeping on. I credit a lot of my perseverance to my friend Hannah. She talked me off the ledge so many times! She was also breastfeeding and pumping at work and it helped to know I wasn’t alone.
In the end, I breastfed you until you were 18 months old! I was so proud that we made it that long. I really fell in love with breastfeeding and although I grew to hate pumping, I continued to do it so I could still breastfeed when we were together. I am really proud of our breastfeeding journey especially given the early challenges!
-Rachel Katyl, mom of two
