My Breastfeeding Journey So Far - The First Week

I always knew my children would be breastfed, even before I knew I would have children. It was obvious. I didn’t ever consider there would be an alternative. So when I fell pregnant with Henry that was one less thing to think about. Decision made - I would breastfeed. Now to get on with the decorating and buying baby clothes.

All through the pregnancy I *intended* to go to the local breastfeeding support group, but there was always more decorating to be done and somehow I never got around to it. Due to my work I couldn’t do a full ante-natal course with the NCT, so I signed us up for a one day intensive, which very briefly touched on the subject of breastfeeding. But I don’t think I really took it in, among all the information about dealing with the labour. So even though I was dedicated to the idea of breastfeeding my baby, I was seriously unprepared for it. But it’s natural, right? What more can there be to it than just whipping out a nipple?!

Henry was born at home with a perfect (idealistic, some might say) water birth. I had no pain relief apart from the TENS machine and the warm water - it just wasn’t necessary. He was born into the water and bounced on the bottom of the soft pool, arms and legs splayed in a startle position and eyes looking up at me from under the water. Incredible. My husband lifted him up to the surface and into my arms where I held him close and looked at him in amazement.

The next few moments passed in a blur of relief, happiness and a feeling of, “right, what do I do now?!”. I knew I should breastfeed soon, but I didn’t have a clue where to begin and I assumed the midwife would talk me through it. In such a dazed state of mind I worried that I should really know what to do and if I asked for help I would look stupid and the midwife, who had been so supportive during my labour, would laugh at me, or tell me off for not knowing. So I waited for her to tell me when to breastfeed.

After a short while with my baby - perhaps half an hour - the midwife started to worry about the delivery of the placenta. So with time ticking on she suggested that Daddy take the baby into the other room while we try a few things to get the placenta delivered. I think her suggestions were to stand up, try pulling gently on the chord and if all that didn’t work we’d try some nipple stimulation. Why she suggested all this, when putting the baby to the breast might be much more effective I don't know. But after 45 minutes the placenta was delivered and I got out of the pool.

Then followed examinations and various poking and prodding before unglamoursly staggering upstairs to the bathroom for a shower. Once I was clean & fresh I climbed into my bed and Henry was brought to me to try feeding. I don’t really have any perception of how long this was after he was born, but I suspect it must have been around 2.5 hours. He latched on immediately, but it was quite painful. The midwife smiled and said “there you go, you’re both naturals!”, so I assumed it was supposed to feel like that. After a few minutes she left us to it and saw herself out.

The next few days were a dizzy high of watching Henry sleeping and falling in love so much that it hurt. I got used to the feeling of him feeding and it seemed to be going so well. But on day 5 things started to change. I felt feverish and hot, my breasts were full and tender and the mild pain of feeding turned into agony. I had several open blisters and one side had a groove that seemed to cut through a third of the nipple. Each feed felt like someone taking a pair of blunt scissors to my breast and twisting them. At the same time I was getting after pains in my abdomen and aches in my back and neck. This was much worse than anything I had experienced during the labour.

As feeding Henry became more and more painful I began to hold back from it. I would put off feeding him until it was absolutely necessary and would withdraw as he went to latch on. I looked up websites that could tell me how to latch him and tried to control it rather than letting him just go for it. He began to throw his head from one side to the other at what seemed like lightning speed each time I tried to latch him. It was impossible for me to bring him up to the nipple quickly enough. Nighttimes especially turned into a fight between Henry and I - him trying desperately to grab what he could and me trying to stop him and control the latch. Often we would be fighting like this for well over an hour before I would take a deep breath and let him feed while I cried with the pain or bit hard into my wrist to take my mind of it.

Only once did my husband offer to go out for formula in a desperate attempt to be of some help while he watched his wife and child battling together at 3am. I said no. I didn’t care how much it took. Breastfeeding my baby was the most important thing in the world to me and I wasn’t about to give up. Instead I would get help. I would percevere another couple of days until I could go to the support group. So we battled on until finally Monday came and I ventured out on my own with Henry for the first time.