A Letter to Maia

This post was inspired by this site and a similar call on a message board to which I belong.

Dear Maia,

The day you were born was one of the greatest in my life so far. In you I saw so much from the time you opened you eyes to the time when you were bundled up and I held you so close. I always knew I wanted to breastfeed you, to give you the best I had to offer and to build a relationship like no other. This is what I believed at the time.

Three months and a struggle I didn't think would ever happen later, I know that it is not the contents of a breast that makes a mother but the contents of a heart.

In that first hour after you latched on, right after birth, I thought things would be easy. I was so sure of my body and of your ability I brushed off the kind labor nurse who wished us continued success with breastfeeding. I told her I was ready, I had read the books, been to the meetings. I knew what was going to happen next. You, Miss Maia, seemed like the "champ" I had read so many stories about. Your latch seemed good, no pain and you were there and happy attached to me still. Even after the lactation consultant visited, and helped me correct your latch and explained to me that I had to be careful with your placement because the way my nipples were shaped I was not worried. I knew my milk would come in full and voluminous and we'd both be happy.

We took you home (and I still can't believe they just let us walk on out with you!) and that's where the real struggle began. You had your days and nights confused. You would be such a sleepy baby during the day and during the night would just stay up and wail. We tried rocking, bouncing and swaddling. Nothing seemed to really calm you down. I fed and fed you but you always wanted more. We could sit and nurse for an hour and you would cry as soon as I took you off. You were losing weight...but that was to be expected. Your doctor didn't seem to be worried and I just knew everything would be all right in a day or two. I thought I felt milk coming in and was waiting for the feeling of engorgement that all new moms describe.

When you were a week old we couldn't get a wet diaper from you. You had lost so much weight the skin was loose on your little legs (so chubby and darling at birth) your dad and I knew something was really wrong. Guilt set in. I felt so strongly that something was wrong with me. My nipples are scarred and I knew that I had done something wrong and I could not feed my baby. I was devastated as I called the hospital lactation consultant and made an appointment with her that very day. It was there I learned that my milk had no come in and we needed to be feeding you fast. You were on the edge of severe dehydration. I cried as you took a bottle and gulped its contents down. I couldn't feed my baby. My body, the one that gave you life was now rebelling and causing you to suffer. I felt at that moment lower and worse than I had ever felt in my life. I had let you down.

It was there that day I learned a new phrase: Chasing the milk. That was what I set out to do.

The details are not important. I tried herbs, pumping, and drugs. Nothing worked and every new can of formula I purchased was another knife in my heart. This is not what I wanted. I envisioned a loving, carefree, breastfeeding lifestyle. I was going to take you everywhere...all you would need was a clean diaper and a breast and we'd be set. The bottle heavy, formula mixing, stress-inducing place I was in at this point was so far from my expectations. I was miserable. I kept you at the breast...you stayed there even after the bottle was introduced...but it was not the pleasurable experience of closeness I wanted but rather a task; a chore that had to be done. I dreaded feeding time even as you began to thrive.

You did thrive. You are a born eater. You gained an entire pound in the first week after we began to supplement you. There was nothing wrong with you and that was a blessing. It was simply mama who was broken.

Feeding was still a miserable time for me. I used to sit and cry over you as I fed you formula. My heart was broken. I couldn't talk about it without the tears beginning. I didn't want to take you out for fear of being judged a bad mama by strangers or friends as I prepared yet another bottle instead of putting you to the breast. It wasn't a good time and I am afraid that I missed out on some of the joy of your first months because I was angry and sad over the loss of our imagined breastfeeding relationship. Something had to change and it needed to be my attitude.

It was a dear friend of mine who put things into perspective for me, although it took me some time to be able to process and accept her words. She pointed out that while we had lost what I had dreamed about, it was up to me to take what we did have and make that special. Feeding, even bottle feeding, was still time to quietly connect, to let you know how much you were loved and to look in to your eyes and know that I was doing the best I could by you. I had the power to define my breastfeeding relationship with you.

I have set aside my guilt. We nurse the best we can. You are growing. You are happy and you smile up at me the same whether you're at the breast or at the bottle. I hold you close for both and remain connected to you. I am still sad that we don't have the relationship I dreamed about before you were YOU but I want you to know that you had a mommy who fought for you and did her best for you.

The last three months have been harder than I ever thought. I knew parenting would be a challenge, but this extra one pushed my to my limits. I didn't think I would ever be happy with how things worked out for our "breastfeeding relationship" but I am now. We have built our own special relationship. You are my darling daughter. You don't love me any less because I couldn't nurse you exclusively. In some ways, this struggle has made me realize how lucky we are. We have the luxury of finding alternative food sources; you don't have to suffer because of me. You will be able to grow and become a healthy child and adult even without the benefit of gallons of breast milk. We are blessed by options.

I am blessed by you, Maia.


always your loving...mama