It was crucial I put baby to breast just as soon as she was born. That wouldn't be a problem! My midwife would certainly place Sofia Rose on my chest the moment she made her grand debut.
Well, my labor didn't go as I'd imagined. After a harsh 30 hours, my delivery included a mild shoulder dystocia, meaning my little girl was fucking stuck in there for a hot minute. My midwife and another nurse had to massage my uterus in order to maneuver her out. Then, she was what they call "slow to start." She didn't cry and she wasn't breathing much so I didn't get to hold her until about 45 minutes after she was born. At that point, Sofia had no desire to suck on a boob and I was too exhausted to figure out how to make it happen. And so our challenges with breastfeeding began...
It. Really. Fucking. Hurt.
We got through that phase. I had a lactation consultant come to our house. She taught me even more feeding positions and she mentioned it looked like Sofia might have a slight lip tie. We did well for a little while. I nursed on demand which means I was feeding her constantly. My days and nights seemed to consist of only nursing, burping and changing Sofia's diapers. And I loved nursing her. It was a peace and a calm I had never known before. It was the closest I had ever felt to another human being in my whole life. I was love-drunk and the sheer splendor of it was intoxicating.
And so we kept trying.
Every day, we keep trying. My motivation to nurse her is not logical. It's primal. I don't judge moms who use formula. It's just not for me.
Some days are better than others, but they have all been hard. She nurses effortlessly in the middle of the night but every hour of the day is a toss-up. Will she nurse? Or will she scream and frantically punch my boob away? I've tired everything I can possibly think of trying. We use a nipple shield. Even though we are in dire straights financially, my husband bought me a brand new nursing ottoman glider. I do skin to skin with her very frequently. I put her to breast often, usually every hour or two. I try cradle hold, football hold, lying down. I even get on my hands and knees, hover over her tiny body and try to drop my breast into her mouth from above. I try to rotate from pacifier to nipple shield to real nipple and she spits every option out of her mouth. I try to nurse her outside in nature. I try inside in a dark quiet room. Meanwhile, Sofia has completely rejected my left breast altogether and will only nurse from the right. My boobs are now lopsided and deformed but still, we keep trying...
Even the last lactation consultant I saw said she was vexed. She said babies usually have a latch problem or they don't.
There just doesn't seem to be an answer. I don't think we'll ever know...
So, why do I keep trying?
Because when it works, those times when she nurses effortlessly have truly been the most joyful, most tranquil moments of my life... Nursing her on the beach with us tucked away in the shadow of a tree branch while the waves crash, nursing her on a pier overlooking the lake at sunset with the backdrop of city lights, nursing her in our Ergo carrier as I walk briskly in the early morning while everything is still dewy and just a little bit chilly, nursing her in my bed while it's quiet and the afternoon sun burns through an open window... These have been the happiest moments I've ever known.
But I don't know if we can keep going on like this. Today, Sofia was exactly 4 months old. She rejected my breast all day long even though everyone told me nursing would get much easier by the time she was 3 months old. She's clearly very hungry. I think she's been very hungry her whole life. There are only so many hours, so many days, so many weeks, so many months that I can try to shove my nipple into my screaming child's mouth who so undeniably doesn't want it. I called two different lactation consultants today without a return phone call. Tonight, I gave her a big bottle of formula. She finally relaxed in my arms and she fell right to sleep, her lips soft and her face content. I looked at her almond shaped eyes as she slept. My secret hope was that we'd get the hang of this, that she'd nurse into toddlerhood, that those beautiful eyes would look up at me and Sofia would say, "Mommy, I nurse please."
I just hope she wakes up tonight and wants to nurse. I just hope...