Let’s start at the beginning:
I always wanted to nurse my baby — I never really gave it much thought when I was pregnant because I assumed it would just happen naturally. I thought all women who wanted to nurse nursed, and that was the end of it.
A day after giving birth, I realized that was very far from the truth! I had no idea what I was doing in the hospital and needed the nurses to help every time I had to feed my baby (also, wow, feeding him every two hours after already being awake for 48 hours was not fun). On the first day, they said it was no big deal, and I could express colostrum into his mouth if he didn’t latch — that was painful! I had never squeezed my nipples before, and it was not a pleasant experience. On the second day, a.k.a the “cluster feeding day,” I remember he latched on one side for over an hour. YAY, he finally did it! But I was freaking out because I did not follow the 20 minutes per each side. I could not get him off the breast. I was so exhausted, all alone, my call button was too far to reach, and I let him eat while I cried. Not how I pictured our cozy, bonding moments together. Later that day, he got his circumcision, and all hell broke loose. I could not get him to latch, and my nipple was throbbing in pain from earlier. I called in the nurse and lactation consultant to help me yet again. For HOURS (not over exaggerating!), they were in my room trying to help: forcing his mouth to my nipple while he cried so hard. He already had a rough day, and we were probably making his day even worse. I eventually called it quits and asked for a bottle of donor milk. He drank it down and happily fell asleep. I was so defeated. I felt like I had no other choice. All that night, I asked for bottles to be brought in every two hours. I figured this was just what we had to do.
The day after coming home from the hospital, I felt a pit in my stomach: I needed to nurse my baby. Instead of giving him a bottle when he woke up, I tried latching him, but he wouldn’t have any of it. I came downstairs and cried my eyes out to my mom. She tried to help as best as she could, replicating what the nurses and lactation consultants were doing — basically holding his crying little head at my boob until he latched. It took forever! Like 15 minutes of him crying, but he eventually latched and stayed on for a while. We did this all day. Holding his head, listening to him cry, me crying because he was crying, him latching…every two hours. Eventually, my poor little boy had enough and wouldn’t try. So, back to the bottles we went. I, again, felt so defeated, but what else was I to do? I started pumping and was hopeful that I could pump enough for that to be his only source of food.
On day five, I went to a latch clinic at the hospital, still hopefully that we could get this nursing thing down. That was probably the worst experience I’ve had! When I got there I explained to the LC my situation and the first thing she said was, “Mama, you ruined him! He will never breastfeed from you now that he knows what a bottle is! Nipple confusion is so real and I see it all the time!” WTF! Tell a five-day postpartum mom she ruined her baby! Nevertheless, she was able to get him to latch, and even move to the other side. I was so upset, however, I never wanted to try again.
From that day, I’ve gotten my baby to latch two or three times. I basically gave up and exclusively pumped. As they all say, exclusively pumping is not for the faint of heart. It took so much experimenting, staying on a schedule, and eating right to produce milk (more on that another time). I still don’t produce enough to only give him breastmilk, but I do my very best.
Throughout the fourth trimester, I was so depressed. I had very dark thoughts of not wanting to exist, of picturing my husband and baby with a new mom. I felt like if I couldn’t nurse, what did he need me for? Anybody can feed him a bottle. Pumping sucked — there’s no eloquent way to say it. Some days I wasn’t determined or consistent enough to pump a lot. I felt like a complete failure. After a complete meltdown about 3 months postpartum, I started to turn it around. I still didn’t like to pump, but I knew I could do it. I started feeling better and being a better mom and wife, and kinder to myself. At five months postpartum, we took a vacation for two weeks and I felt completely healed and like myself again!
But something was missing. I really want to nurse my baby.
Cue: my crazy idea
I was scrolling Instagram, as one does, and came across a comment on a post about which breastfeeding rules people broke. This woman said she exclusively pumped for the first six months of four (four!!!) of her babies’ lives, then transitioned to exclusively nursing. My mind was blown. I never thought that was possible.
I don’t think I even knew you could teach a baby to latch, let alone teach them when they’re older.
Now that I’m feeling better and mentally stronger, I decided I wanted to try to teach my baby to nurse.
I have this need to do it. I can’t explain it. I know that he’s healthy and happy with bottles of breastmilk and formula. I’m thankful I’m able to pump. I’m thankful that we live in wonderful times with so many options of excellent formula. Fed is best. I get it! But, I can’t shake this feeling.
I need to give it a go. I have no idea if it’s going to work, but at least I’ll be able to say I truly tried everything.
Why write about it?
Here’s the thing: not many people have tried teaching their bottle-feeding baby to nurse at six months. I’ve spent the past week scouring the internet and have found a few people who have successfully taught their baby to nurse in the 3-6 month age range. Whether I am successful or not (but please, I want to be successful!!!), I want to share my story in hopes that someone else can feel a little less alone.