My Exclusively Pumping Journey

My story takes place over a course of almost 2 years ago starting with the birth of my son, Hezekiah. As he grew in my belly everyday, I spent every bit of those 9 months fantasizing what it was going to be like having a natural birth, being able to nurse, and enjoying every single beautiful moment watching him grow up. I wish somebody would have told me that I was walking on dangerous ground by romanticizing too much. The natural birth I wanted, didn't happen. I was no where near prepared for what a hard contraction felt like. Next thing I knew, my husband and me were walking into the hospital on October 18th, 2011 and I was getting my much needed relief from an epidural along with a concoction of other drugs. Heavily sedated, the nurses immediately took my son away after I delivered and after what felt like a lifetime, I was finally able to hold him. The nurse shooed everyone away so I could nurse him and I thought "Yes! This is what I've been waiting for! That amazing beautiful bond that is created between mother and baby all wrapped up in this beautiful package called nursing!" I didn't get the natural birth experience that I so badly wanted but at least I would get to nurse my beautiful boy. The nurse helped me try to latch Hezekiah and I spent the next 10 minutes unsuccessful. Darn. They wheeled me into another room that I would remain for the next 2 days trying to get him to latch on and eat. Nurses came in and out trying to help with different positions and techniques but Hez would just scream and rear his head back like my boob was on fire. Hand expressing was the only way I knew that he was actually getting something in his tiny tummy. The nurse who came in to release us told me to keep working at it and that Hez seemed to be doing just fine. I knew better.

The next 5 days were a blur as my little one screamed in hunger and frustration and would literally push me away whenever I tried to nurse. My nipples were a bloody mess, I was exhausted, broken-hearted, and beat down. I hauled out the pump that my sister in law gave me and began my pumping journey. Unfortunately I knew next to nothing about exclusively pumping so I researched as best I could. There was next to no information about exclusively pumping so trial and error was my teacher. After 2 bouts of mastitis, I learned that I needed to pump longer than 25 minutes. I also learned that I could make just as much at the end of the day pumping every 3 hours as I could every 2 hours. Eight long months later, I hung up my flanges and got my sanity back. No more middle of the night pumps, no more tears from the pressure of barely making enough, no more precious moments interrupted from being a slave to the machine. My freezer stash lasted until Hezekiah was 9 months before I switched to formula and I swore that I would never again exclusively pump. The next child would directly nurse even if it killed me....or so I thought.

Asher is mama's pumpin buddy =)

Asher was born on April 12 this past Spring and after 9 months of preparing myself mentally, I got the natural birth I so longed for. It was a perfect labor and delivery. When the midwife pulled him out and placed his wet pink body in my arms, I was in love. Oddly enough I don't remember much about those 2 days in the hospital except that I knew that he wasn't latching well. It was extremely painful and nothing seemed to be working. When we arrived back at home, I would sit on the bed every hour for 45 minutes latching and re-latching, latching and re-latching, determined that I was going to make it work. He was very patient but very hungry. His suction wasn't tight enough, his top lip wouldn't flip out, he kept slipping off, and the list grew. Three days after Asher was born, my nipples were bloody scabs. I called a nurse practically hysterical from guilt and exhaustion but desperate to know what I was supposed to do since it had become impossible to nurse now. I had to resort to bottle feeding him my milk which lead to horrible nipple confusion. But after a visit from a lactation consultant, several attempts with a nipple shield, hours of online research about breastfeeding, and finally a diagnosis of an upper lip tie which prevented him from being able to flip his top lip out, I once again became a slave to the machine.

 In that 9 months that I was pregnant, never in a million years did I ever think that I wouldn't be able to nurse my 2nd child. Days, weeks, and months were spent mourning over the loss of that unique bonding relationship.  Still determined, I spent over a month trying to get him to re-latch and when Asher was 3 months old, we finally had our first nursing session. I remember looking down at him with a lump in my throat because I got to finally experience nursing one of my children for the first time ever. Unfortunately for reasons unknown, he has never been able to eat enough and instead has become my little snacker. I pump 5 times a day and meet well over his needs and I nurse for comfort. Sometimes it is the only thing that will stop his tears and soothe him to sleep. I will mourn once again when I hang up my flanges for the second last time because I have been so thankful to be able to feed my baby. Coming to terms with pumping for both of my babies has been a process. I still feel jealousy and sadness in the pit of my stomach whenever I see a woman nursing her baby.  And although I may not be able to say I nursed, I can proudly say that I breastfeed for my children.