La Leche

4-2-10

When I was in the hospital with my son, Dax, I shared a room with a young lady who was having her first child. As the visitors for both of us left for the night and the lights were dimmed, there were two women, both with their newborns, ready to face the first night of being with our offspring.

The problem was, one of us was crying.

My poor bunk mate was trying desperately to get her young son to latch onto her breast in order to nurse. She wasn’t having any luck. I could hear the desperate cries from her, despite her attempts to muffle them in order to not disturb me. My heart was breaking for her. I knew what she was going through.

18 months prior to that fateful day, I was in that same hospital with my first son, Bobby. The birth was quick and painless and everything surrounding the experience seemed surreal. All aspects were going well and I couldn’t believe that I had lucked out with the easiest birth every. Then things started to turn.

The nurses brought Bobby to me, knowing that I didn’t want him to have any formula. I made this baby and I would nourish him just as I had while he had been in my body. I figured it would be easy since this was natural, right? What could go wrong?

I held my bundle with his mouth facing what now seemed like an enormous nipple. I pushed it up against him, assuming he would know what to do. Neither of us realized that this wasn’t as simple as insert Tab A into Slot A.

The nurses scolded me every time he seemed hungry. I thought he was drinking, but in reality, he wasn’t getting the proper amounts. I was frustrated and tired and weeping uncontrollably. I didn’t know what to do. Thankfully, one of the nurses suggested sending in the lactation specialist. I agreed because at this point, I would try anything.

The lactation specialist had wings. I know that no one else could see them, but I know they were there. All angels have them. She must have tucked them under her coat.

She was in one word, amazing. I had read every book under the sun that covered the different holds and techniques you use in order to breast feed. She brought them to life. I suppose I could have felt uncomfortable with someone manipulating my breasts in the way she was, but instead I was in awe of her. I had never felt closer to anyone. Her demeanor was perfect and I knew that I would be able to do this.

Bobby and I still struggled for about a week, but that first time he latched on and I could truly feel the milk leaving my breast and flowing into his little body, I was instantly transformed into a lactivist for life.

Bobby nursed for 13 months. We would have gone longer had I not been pregnant with Dax. Bobby weaned himself, which worked out ok for both of us.

Back to that night in the hospital as Dax and I effortlessly nursed the second he was at my breast. I physically hurt when I heard the poor girl next to me going through the same issues I had dealt with so recently.

At around 3 am, with both of our children sleeping soundly next to us, I spoke to her. I didn’t know what I needed to say, or if she would even want to hear from me, but I felt that I needed to reach out to her. This was a girl who I felt bonded to. I asked her if she was ok.

What happened next was nothing short of inspiring to me. She was not only willing to talk to me, she was willing to listen to my advice and truly seemed comforted by the fact that she was not alone. We discussed techniques, I told her about the angel that worked at the hospital and we just talked about everything. I could hear her spirits lift as each hour passed. Sure, I should have been resting since I knew that once I was discharged, I would be lacking in it. It didn’t matter to me. This woman’s needs were more important than mine right then, and if I could help even a little bit, I would.

I was discharged later that morning, excited to get home to my husband and Bobby. We gathered my personals and loaded my tired body into the wheelchair with my squishy Dax in arms. It was at this point, I got to for the first time “meet” my neighbor. Up until this point, we had been separated by a curtain, but there was no barrier that seemed so flimsy. We had bonded, as only two new moms could and no privacy curtain could stop that. I looked at her and I could feel that she was leaving the hospital a changed woman, and not just because of her beautiful little boy in the bassinet by the bed.

I want to do more to help the other new moms out there. I want to share my experiences in which I nursed one son 13 months and another for 17. I want to share how I have had tough times and beautiful times, and yet all were worth it. I have had to “pump and dump” when I was in the hospital with severe pancretentitis. I was a working mother who got her company to set up a pump station for me, complete with a brand new outlet for which my pump would be powered by. I want to share how I used my breasts as calming devices on multiple flights for my sons. I want to show every mother out there that no matter how busy we are, or how hard the beginning may be, breastfeeding is the most wonderful, and treasured time I had with my children. I want that to be the same for everyone.