When I found out I was going to be a mother there was only one thing that I knew for sure, I wanted to breastfeed. Breastfeeding was very important to me for many different reasons. Not only is it the best nutrition I could give my baby but, I was also excited about the bonding and connection we would share together. With my mother being a labour and delivery nurse and a midwife in the UK I knew about the importance of breastfeeding. However, I (like many first time moms) was oblivious to the many difficulties that often surround new mothers in this journey.

The delivery was a blur. Hours of pushing had reduced my mind to mush and made me forget all the plans we had for Abbys arrival. Once she joined us all I wanted to do was hold her, snuggling her in close to my chest. To my amazement she began to move towards my breast. Like a baby sea turtle moving blindly towards the ocean she seemed to sense where she needed to be. Her poor swollen face found my nipple and she quickly latched on and began to feed. I was flooded with pride. We had done it! The nurses all smiled and acknowledged that she was a ‘great little feeder’. This pattern continued for the duration of our hospital stay. Once at home surrounded by my support team, made up of my mom, sister and husband, the breastfeeding continued to be successful. Sadly three days into our first week at home my sister and mom had to return to their home three hours away and my husband back to work. It was now just the two of us.

Although I felt nervous I also felt I was ready, we were ready to begin this adventure together. The first day was great, Abby fed with ease and we began to settle into a routine together. This didn’t last long. It began with pain. A great deal of pain every time she would latch on. The pain began to become unbearable. I would wince and tear up, clenching my fists and biting my lip with each feed. Soon I was dreading when Abby would need to eat. But I kept with it, assuming that it was me, something I was doing wrong.

Unfortunately it only got worse. At our first doctors appointment the scary news, she had lost weight, lots of weight. She was down from 8 lb at birth to 6.7 lb. Something was wrong. Check her diapers and keep feeding I was told. We went home and tried again. It was my husband who finally threw in the towel. He came down in the evening on our fifth day to me crying. Within ten minutes we were in the car on the way to the hospital. I was defeated, drained of all energy and broken.

The first doctor we spoke to in the Emergency Room tried to steer us towards formula.  Thank goodness my husband stood strong, explaining to the doctor that we were hoping to continue to breastfeed and that there must be something he could do.  After several attempts to convince us that formula was the way to go the doctor fetched a lactation consultant from the Labour and Delivery department.  She was like an angel.  Within minutes of her arrival she had calmed all my fears and anxiety making me feel as though we had done everything right.  Her gentle hands quickly and with ease latched Abby to my breast and she drank.

This was not the first nor the last time that I struggled with breastfeeding.  However with help from breastfeeding groups and wonderful lactation nurses Abby is now a cubby happy baby.  I only wish that I could travel back in time and tell myself that it would get better and to just stay strong.  The joy of hindsight!