It’s World Breastfeeding Week, which means that it’s time to get real about boobs. Also, there’s going to be some inevitable CoVeR yOuRsElF uP comments, and I’m not here for it. Until you eat your dinner with a blanket over your head, or have breakfast while seated on the toilet, stop trying to dictate where breastfeeding parents can nurse their spawn. Babies can eat WHEREVER and WHENEVER, and if you don’t like it, go places where babies aren’t allowed. Or, just go home, because you’re probably not very fun to be around.

\Let’s dissect the arguments about breasts in public, shall we? Has anyone ever died from seeing breasts? I think not. Does anyone want to eat with their head covered? I don’t, and neither do my kids. Breasts are not GENITALS, so whoever started that rumour needs to go back to fifth grade. Breasts are secondary sex characteristics, not sex organs. And everyone’s got ’em – some people’s lactate, some people’s don’t. Some people’s have lots of tissue, some people’s have none. Is this the beginning of a nursery rhyme? (hehe)

Also, for the record: fed is best. It doesn’t matter if your bub is breastfed or bottle-fed, given mama milk or (FDA-approved*) formula — what matters is that babies get the nutritients that they need to grow so they can eventually become small — but mighty — terrors. I breastfeed because I don’t like dealing with bottles — I hated having to deal with washing and sanitizing bottles (plus, washing dishes really hurts my wrist) and making just enough formula, but not *too* much; whether you’re a FF parent who’s chosen to do it or you’re doing it out of necessity, you’re seriously impressive. It’s OK if you can’t breastfeed, and it’s OK if you don’t want to. It’s not for everyone!

*please do not make your own formula. That’s not healthy or safe!

In short: breastfeeding is super hard, there’s not really a lot of support (like a 3 minutes lesson in the hospital), boobs > screaming babies, and small humans need to be fed, so instead of being a jerk to a breastfeeding parent (don’t forget: there are non-binary parents and dads who breastfeed; it’s not just a mom thing!), just look away. No one is trying to seduce your husband with their engorged, swollen boobs that are probably leaking milk, Rhonda; but they might be kink-shaming your beau a little if that’s what he’s into.

I didn’t have the easiest beginning breastfeeding William; both my kids were born via c-section, and after a c-section, milk tends to come in later than it does after a vaginal birth. When he was born, his sugars were low, and he was only getting colostrum from me for the entire time we were in the hospital (about 84 hours). My milk didn’t come in before we left the hospital, so we ended up supplementing with formula. The formula helped stabilize both his blood sugar and weight (he lost more than 10% of his birth weight).

Will is — and has always been — our skinny mini; he kept growing tall, but didn’t gain weight very well at first. He breastfed often — so often, in fact, that my nipples cracked and bled within a day and a half of his birth. It took them months to heal 100%. We started him on a pacifier at our pediatrician’s suggestion (he was using me as a soother, not just to eat), but I still needed to use nipple shields over the next several (like, 12) weeks so that I could heal. Also, so much Lanolin. But not too much, because then you can get thrush. WHY, BODY?

At first, William would nurse for 40 minutes per breast, and it was exhausting. I didn’t understand why he was nursing for about an hour and a half every three hours (yeah, try doing anything in an hour and a half increments), and not really gaining weight the way he was supposed to; he had bottles top-ups after feedings during the day on top of his regular nursing schedule, and he was gaining, but not on his growth curve according to his birth weight (8 lbs 14 oz). At one of our post-natal/-partum appointments, the doctor (nurse? it’s all a blur) said that he was eating so often because he was eating so often. Sounds weird, right? But it turns out he was eating too often for my hindmilk to be able to come in, so he just kept eating foremilk. But then, he wasn’t satisfied with just the foremilk, so he kept trying to eat.

Once we figured out the issue, I started cutting him off at 15-20 minutes per breast as per the doctor’s (nurse’s?) instructions, and then he still had formula top-ups. He occasionally had pumped milk in bottles, too, but I couldn’t pump very much — probably because my supply was out of whack from his weird feeding schedule! I also used a manual pump instead of electric — I didn’t know that I should’ve been using electric, and they’re so expensive; it wasn’t feasible for us to drop several hundred dollars on an electric pump at that point. We started to decrease his top-ups because he wasn’t interested in eating more after breastfeeding, and eventually stopped supplementing feeds altogether (after discussing with our doctor, of course) when he was about 3 months old; at this point, his weight gain exceeded his growth curve based on his birth weight. 

Despite our rocky start, William didn’t wean until he was over 2.5. My breastfeeding goal was to nurse him until he was 24 months, or until he weaned himself. However, I was pregnant with Isla when I decided that I needed my body back (-ish). I’ve been breastfeeding and/or pregnant for the past four years and four months, which is a lot of time when you’re 25 — almost 20% of my lifetime! Pregnancy made my milk dry up and made my breasts super sore, so him nursing — even once a day, which was how often he breastfed at that point — was just too much for me.

My breastfeeding journey with Isla thus far is significantly different than it was with William, and I’m eternally grateful that it’s easier this time around, especially since her birth was so traumatic for me. Granted, we still had our share of challenges.

When Isla was born, I couldn’t go see her (or hold her, even if I could see her) because I was recovering from surgery, so there was no way I could attempt to breastfeed her. Instead, I had to hand-express colostrum into tiny little vials whilst sitting in my hospital bed (and binge-watching Jane the Virgin). Then, I had to call the nurses to transport the vials over to the NICU, where they put them in a fridge until Isla was off of her IV. If Travis was with me, he would take the vials over to the NICU himself.

I had to mimic a regular feeding schedule, so I had to express colostrum every 2.5 hours, ‘pumping’ for 15-20 minutes on each side. It was a lot of work, but I absolutely wouldn’t change a thing. It kept my mind occupied, and it gave me something productive to do.

Once Isla was off of her oxygen, she could come out of her incubator, and I was allowed to hold her. I was also allowed to try to breastfeed her. There were a few lactation consultants who came to each NICU pod to help bubs learn to breastfeed (if that was the route the parents chose). Because a lot of babies can’t be held, and breastmilk is strongly recommended for preemies, the SMH NICU has electric pumps in each pod, and each baby’s parents get their own pumping kits. Thankfully, Isla latched really well (she was really big for her age; she was born at 35w2, and weighed 6 lbs 12 oz), so I was able to breastfeed her and then switch to pumping right after, which helped my supply.

The NICU is super methodical — for obvious reasons — and it can be extremely nerve-wracking. Isla had to eat every three hours on the dot, but she had to be weighed before she ate, and she had to average a certain amount each feeding based on her weight in order to be eligible for discharge. Talk about pressure. I was super overwhelmed with all of the requirements, but I was even more determined to get her fed, get her weight up, and get her home.

One night, I asked our nurse if I could sleep through Isla’s 3 am feeding because I was absolutely beat. I was getting increasingly more anxious, and I knew that lack of sleep played a big role in my mental health situation. I asked her to wake me up if Isla didn’t want to eat the formula so that I could feed her, because she needed to eat about 30 mL per feed at that point to maintain her body weight. Isla refused the bottle (she wanted to breastfeed), but the nurse didn’t wake me, and instead, inserted an SNS (a tube through the nose into the stomach). I was terrified that this would impact our ability to go home, and was so distraught. She didn’t end up having to use the SNS — the nurse didn’t need to insert it at all, but if she had used it, our discharge would’ve been delayed; being able to feed on one’s own was a discharge requirement.

Isla with the SNS inserted

I ended up pumping a lot in the hospital and when I got home, and it resulted in a milk oversupply. The fact that my body was used to breastfeeding — I had just stopped nursing William a few months before Isla was born — probably also contributed to my newfound ability to make a lot of milk. I also got cracked nipples again, and had to use nipple shields and Lanolin for a few weeks (only about a month this time around). It was really sore for me every time my milk came in, and I got engorged really easily. In fact, I still get engorged quite easily, and Isla’s 8 months! She eats three meals a day plus a few snacks, and only nurses four-five times a day, but my milk comes in painfully, and it often comes in more frequently than she needs to eat.

I’m only part-way through my current breastfeeding journey with my little nursling, but my goal is 24 months or until she self-weans, just like it was with William. If we can’t get there, that’s OK! Only time will tell. For now, I’ll just enjoy being able to breastfeed her while she doesn’t have teeth, and try to smile (grimace) while I pry her tiny, precious little nails off of my boobs (how are they SO SHARP? I cut them every other day).

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What unforeseen challenges have you dealt with while breastfeeding? Let me know in the comments!