The emotional journey of Breastfeeding: At the hospital

Breastfeeding has been an uphill battle since Day 0.  Nothing has tested my patience and motivation more in my entire life. I questioned sharing my experience because it has been such an emotional time for me (and McKenna... and Kevin). The number of times I have almost quit in the last 3 weeks is pretty great, and I would say breastfeeding is still not 100% established.

Problems started at the first attempt to feed. Not 2 hours after birth, McKenna, the nurse, and I struggled to get her to eat.  Luckily newborns barely need much at all in the first hours and couple of days so we had time to work and figure out what was going on. As each new round of nurses took over, our experience grew more frustrating.  Some nurses were patient, informative, and helpful. Others were impatient and clearly irritated with my every 2 hour ring for help. One in particular grabbing at my very sore breast and shoving McKenna un-mercilessly and painfully on it as she shrilled. Sure she got her to latch (once), but the experience left me (and I'm sure McKenna) exhausted. I had Kevin request a Lactation Consultant come to our room, to which this nurse replied "They don't work on the weekends. I am your lactation consultant" in a condescending tone because clearly I didn't want her help.

Our second night in the hospital was when we made the executive decision to begin pumping and feed her with a dropper. I was upset about this because we couldn't figure out what the problem was and I was extremely adamant about exclusively breastfeeding. But McKenna needed to eat.  I believe it was this nurse that pointed out that there was something strange about McKenna's tongue.  Luckily she made a note for the lactation consultant to visit me first thing in the morning (Monday).

Sure enough, as the lactation consultant grabbed at my nipple dangling it in McKenna's face (with my OB, the nurse, Kevin, and a nursing student all spectating, mind you) she confirmed that McKenna had an attached frenulum, commonly known as a tongue-tie.  She stopped trying to get McKenna to latch (as if to give up) and began explaining the ramifications of this news.  While I have read that there have been tongue-tied babies that have gone on to successfully breastfeed, this didn't seem to be the case for McKenna according to the lactation consultant. I began bawling, seemingly certain that breastfeeding could not occur for us. She began explaining the process of getting it clipped and the need to see a specialist.  In this blur of shear devastation, she recommended supplementing McKenna with some formula, to which we went ahead and did at that moment.

I felt completely defeated and helpless, we hadn't even been given a chance. The lactation consultant went through the motions of explaining to us the rigorous schedule I'd need to keep in order to pump exclusively for McKenna until we made a decision about her frenulum. I really didn't process any of this information as she handed us printouts and proceeded to the next room on her rounds.  According to these printouts, I had a rocky road and very sleepless nights attached to an electric pump ahead of me.

Kevin and I had the decision to make about her frenulum, and unfortunately would need to wait until her 5 day appointment with her pediatrician a couple of days later.  Until then, McKenna would be using bottles of my pumped milk. I felt more and more hopeless about succeeding at breastfeeding with each bottle we gave her (because babies become accustomed to bottle nipples and the ease of feeding from it), but we were given no other choice. The days from learning this news to her pediatrician appointment were by far the longest of my life.