BREASTFEEDING ALMOST STARVED MY SON #FED IS BEST

My husband and I were ecstatic when we found out we were expecting. Instead of waiting for the customary first three month to pass, we immediately started shopping and planning for our baby. By the time I was seven months pregnant, we had everything ready for our baby boy. My husband had painted the nursery a deep ocean blue, and we had set up the bassinet, dressing table and play area. We had watched every video we could find, and attended almost every baby class which was available.

One of the many classes we attended was a breastfeeding class. Our instructor told us all about the benefits of breastfeeding. That breast milk would make our babies smarter, healthier and happier. She assured us that all moms have enough milk to feed their baby, and that a lactation consultant would come by our hospital beds to make sure our baby was breastfeeding properly. There was really no excuse to NOT breastfeed. The class just confirmed what I had known all along. All good moms breastfed - and I was going to be a great mom.

My delivery was quick and uneventful. I have no tolerance for pain so I asked for an epidural early on, and before I knew it I was holding my little baby boy in my arms. He was tinier than I had imagined, and I instantly fell in love with his sweet little innocent face - which incidentally looked exactly like my husbands.

My problem started once I started breastfeeding. My son cried a lot, and seemed to breastfeed for hours on end. As promised the lactation consultant came by before I was discharged.She asked me a few questions, and then proceeded to examine my latch. I was doing great, she reassured me. My son's latch was perfect, and that a bit of pain was to be expected in the beginning.

She sounded skeptical about how long I was feeding for, and in my post-pregnancy stupor, I decided I must be exaggerating. Yes, a nurse had commented on how every time she came into the room I was breastfeeding. But she was nonchalant about it, so I thought it was normal. And if the lactation consultant said that everything was great, it must be, right?

Wrong. The next few days were absolutely torture. My son either breastfed or cried for nearly the entire time he was awake. Night time was the worst. And nothing I did seemed to help. He cried when I tried to put him on my breast. He cried when I rocked him. And he cried when I put him on the swing. Eventually after hours of crying he would fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. Nursing was painful, so I attended group breastfeeding classes, where the nurse consistently told me that his latch was perfect, and that I had nothing to worry about. "Do not make the mistake of supplementing with formula" she advised. "It'll be hard breastfeeding after that, and that's not a mistake you want to make."

When I went to the doctor for my sons one week visit, one of the first things she did was weigh my son. He was not back to his original weight, which she found concerning. Even more so when she looked at my baby’s diaper and found there were urate crystals in his pee - a clear sign that my little baby boy was dehydrated. Even then, when I asked her whether I should supplement with formula she was hesitant for me to do so. Instead she suggested waiting a few more days. I was to feed him every two hours, and if his weight hadn't increased, we would then supplement with formula.

Right after visiting the doctor, I went to see a private lactation consultant. The lactation consultant measured how much my son fed over a half hour feeding period. Both of us were shocked and horrified when we found out that he had only drank less than half an ounce of milk!

Hearing that made my heart sink. My son wasn't crying because he was a baby. He was crying because he was starving. In my attempt to do what was best for my son, I had deprived him of the food he desperately needed.

Turns out I have very large nipples. Therefore my son's tiny mouth was unable to get a deep enough latch. Once I knew what the issue was, it was easy to fix the problem - I started pumping milk, and within a few days, he was back to his birth weight - and he had almost completely stopped crying.

My son is now a healthy and mischievous nine month old. But I still carry guilt from his first few week's of life. As a mother I should have known that he was hungry and dehydrated. I should not have trusted the lactation consultants or the nurses. I heard him cry for food and I did absolutely nothing, I've heard stories about baby's who died from dehydration- despite having enough wet diapers. And I am grateful that it did not come to that.

The other day a friend told me that she was formula feeding instead of breastfeeding. It was taxing, and she found herself too drained to care for her daughter properly. She felt guilty, and found the need to explain her decision to formula feed to me. The old me would have unconsciously judged her - after all, a good mom always breastfeeds. Instead I was proud of her. Proud that she withstood the social pressures and judgement of formula feeding. Proud that she did what was best for her and her child. Proud that she chose to formula feed.

# Fed is best.