When my daughter entered the world, she faced challenges right from the start—she couldn’t latch on for breastfeeding or take a bottle. The hospital staff sent us home with a hungry baby and a mere pat on the back, assuring us, “She’ll get the hang of it soon!”
My little girl spent her early days wailing in frustration and hunger at my breast, her neck muscles straining visibly. Each cry pierced my heart, and I found myself weeping continuously.
In a moment of desperation, my husband and I decided to enlist the help of a lactation consultant. Enter Sarah*, who arrived at our home in scrubs, radiating confidence. She assured us that breastfeeding was achievable. With her authoritative and enthusiastic demeanor, she seemed like the guiding light we desperately needed.
I expressed my determination to stick with breastfeeding and avoid formula unless absolutely necessary. “No formula!” she responded, shuddering at the thought. My sleep-deprived mind briefly froze, struggling to process her words.
Sarah laid out a rigorous plan. I was to pump consistently to maintain my milk supply until my daughter grew strong enough to nurse. In the meantime, we would feed her my expressed milk using a tiny catheter. Every three hours, day and night, we attempted to nurse, fed her pumped milk, pumped more, and then washed and sterilized all our equipment. This exhausting routine consumed more than three hours, leaving us perpetually on the brink of beginning the next round. Meanwhile, my daughter had her own schedule, completely out of sync with ours.
Sleep became a distant memory. The combination of relentless sleep deprivation and undiagnosed postpartum anxiety was overwhelming. My body felt heavy and shaky; nausea plagued me endlessly. It was as if my mind was ablaze.
I saw no escape from this torment except to persevere, so I did. Each week, Sarah visited with a digital scale to monitor my daughter’s weight gain. During our sessions, I also learned about her strong opinions. She declared infant formula to be poison. Upon discovering my profession as a lawyer, she even sought my advice on a class action lawsuit against the government for including formula in the Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) program.
After six weeks of this arduous routine, Sarah adjusted her recommendations, suggesting I breastfeed on demand and pump every four hours instead. “That was the hardest routine I’ve ever prescribed,” she said, “I thought you would have given up by now. You’re in my top 1% of clients for sure.”
As those words washed over me, I felt a surge of pride, only to crash back down in realization. I hadn’t realized I could give up! In that moment, I truly believed that if I strayed from her guidance, my baby’s survival hung in the balance.
Reflecting on my perfectionism, sleep deprivation, and anxiety, I recognize how susceptible I was to catastrophic thinking. I didn’t need someone instilling fear; I needed a voice of reason to reassure me that my baby didn’t require a flawless mother—just me. I wonder if I would have been open to hearing that advice.
Years later, a psychiatrist who had once worked as a lactation consultant offered me this insight: “I’m proud of what you accomplished, but I would never recommend any parent undergo what you did.” She highlighted that new mothers need at least six hours of sleep daily, and supplementing with formula would have allowed my husband and me to share the night feedings and accept support from others.
I remain grateful to Sarah. We brought her a hungry baby, and she helped us provide nourishment. However, I now understand how essential it is to have a balanced perspective during such vulnerable times.
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Summary:
The journey of new motherhood can be overwhelming, especially when faced with breastfeeding challenges. This narrative explores the struggles of a new mom who felt immense pressure to succeed in breastfeeding, compounded by sleep deprivation and anxiety. With the help of a lactation consultant, she navigated this difficult experience, ultimately realizing the importance of balance and self-care.