Other than the frustration of feeding my second, things went well all things considered. I mean I had moments (many) I wanted to stop and it was more difficult in several ways. One because I had more support.
Back to that in a minute.
Another one was that I knew what my end goal was. With my first I was struggling on because I had been told I couldn’t, that I would fail. With Miss M I knew I could come out the other side and have a time of normalcy with a nurseling. And besides, she would love me no matter what.
Back to the more support thing. I lined up a supportive midwife and didn’t really have anyone around me telling me that I was terrible for using formula or anything. I had some stress in the hospital as midwives argued about how things would turn out, and brief moments of false hope that things would be normal, but it was not to be. My midwife I think thought I was crazy and wanted to give me permission to stop. I had a great online due date group (note: I highly recommend getting one of these. I joined a local parenting forum, mine was associated with a magazine, and when I became pregnant joined the month due date group. We formed a facebook group, there are about 30-35 of us, and it’s fantastic. Local is key, because you can swap tips about sales and local brands. And meet up! With my first I was a member of parenting community primarily UK and US based. So not really local at all. Also much larger and impersonal. I really think 30ish is the ideal number of people to be civil online.), and a weekly breastfeeding group attended by an IBCLC who was familiar with major breastfeeding issues. All around I felt like no one would judge me if I did stop. But I knew what I was aiming for so it was all personal drive, not some misplaced feeling of needing to prove I could do it. I knew I could. And if it turned out I couldn’t there would be people there to say well done you. If I had had that support with my first I would have stopped I think. But I didn’t and that’s how I have succeeded twice now. But wanting to stop is not a form of failure, nor should it be a source of guilt. It’s just a symptom of frustration. This time I knew my frustration was temporary.
I’ve come to think that so much mommy war crap is very first world problem-esque. Even low supply. Yes, it’s a big and valid problem, that is not as open, treated or acknowledged as it should be, but the guilt and regret is very much a western world bullshit thing to feel bad about. A bit of a tantrum which is negatively reinforced if you will. Our perceptions are skewed by the way we live. Yes, we have an inability to nourish our babies alone but in ‘the wild’ we would not be alone. Ok, not unless you were homesteading or repopulating the world. Much like we aren’t meant to be alone in the weeks and months after having a baby, and yet we often are. Yes it can feel raw and horrible and heartbreaking, and I’m not disputing that, but I posit that those feelings are a mixture of betrayal and being thwarted in our choices, combined with various breastfeeding movement backlash baggage. Betrayal as we’ve been told that we can do it-and then we can’t. Breastfeeding backlash baggage in that even though the issue is becoming more well known it still is not widely accepted so you have people disbelieving you, questioning your commitment and motivation. As if it’s a contest, or endurance event, rather than keeping a baby alive by any means necessary. Thwarted in that this was something you made the choice to do and that choice is taken away from you. I think the emotional repercussions from that is largely a construct of the other two. If you could not do some other choice would you feel so bent out of shape about it? Not likely…until people disbelieve you, question you, badger you and tell you the option you do have is wrong, repugnant and harmful. That leaves you as a sad little ball of raw despair.
All I can really say is that parenting is so much more than the first few years, yet these years are consumed with ideals to do things the right way and when the right way, like breastfeeding, does not work out, or goes poorly we become bitter; consumed with sadness, guilt and regret, because honestly we don’t have bigger problems. Our first years ideals mean well, but the jealousy, the warring, the guilt of if you are stimulating your baby appropriately, enough, right, the worry if you are doing things the ‘best’ and frankly, fashionable way…. it’s all so much bullshit. There are righter ways and wronger ways to do things but so much of the hype sold to us in packages, physical or conceptual, is entirely irrelevant. Babies need touching, feeding, cleaning. To be comfortable and comforted. To be responded to. Kids need a hell of a lot more than that. You haven’t failed as a parent until your kids don’t call you after they grow up. They won’t even remember the first years. The first years are a start but what shapes a child into a person is ongoing interaction.
With that I will leave my next post with a compilation of links on various topics. This blog is not so topical to me anymore and no one likes an irregularly updated blog. I have moved on from low supply. I hope others with this issue can as well.
Oh, it will be a fact of life with my future and last child, but that’s all. It’s moved on from being an emotional problem to purely a medical problem. I’ve accepted it is not fixable. I will never have a diagnosis (well not unless I can find a breastfeeding clinician). And I guess it doesn’t matter. My kids don’t care that they had to be born via cesarean section, that they weren’t fed 100% breast milk. My main focus now is actual parenting and I don’t know that I will have time or motivation to navel gaze about that. I’ll be learning as I go, and my right ways, or even the ways that things go aren’t for me to judge or write a how-to manual for anyone else. It’s just going to be regular difficult from here on out, so I don’t think my musings are going to be particularly relevant.