Way back in 1999 I became a mother for the first time.  I was young but I was determined to combat that by reading every book on parenting that I could get my hands on before the baby came.  And so I did.  I borrowed books from friends and read them cover to cover.  I went to the bookstore and sat in a chair reading the books I couldn't afford.  Based on what the books said I decided to breastfeed my baby. 

She came a few weeks early but not before I had a couple weeks of being completely stressed out over things that weren't going right with the pregnancy.  She was jaundiced.  All she ever wanted to do was sleep.  She never really latched on properly.  I was super stressed and beyond tired.  Any one of these things can affect a woman's milk supply, but apparently the combination (or perhaps some other reason) killed mine.  It was the first thing I intended to do for my child to giver her the best, and I was a total failure.

Do you know that not a single one of those books that I had read ever indicated that a woman can have  a failure to make milk?  I felt all kinds of sadness that I can't really describe.  Every book, every "expert" said that all women make milk, it's the natural way of things.  The books all seemed to say to me that not being able to make milk was the product of not trying hard enough.  They said to me that giving up was my not caring to give my child the best.  It killed me to have to stop even trying but when I was getting nothing but blood when I pumped I had to give in. 

It has been 11 years but the pain of that first maternal failure has always haunted me.  It isn't that I always want it to haunt me but with each pregnancy since then the breastfeeding police have come after me.  They come in the form of emails about breastfeeding from the doctor or hospital, ads in parenting magazines, entire chapters in parenting books, lactation boutiques being touted in hospital tours, etc.  When you are a pregnant woman who has previously failed to successfully breastfeed those reminders are everywhere!  My poor hubby dealt with many a tear over just knowing that I would fail again. 

Fast forward to three weeks ago.  Will was born.  I was too scared to even think of the possibility of successfully breastfeeding.  I refused to answer that question during the hospital intake.  I wouldn't even allow myself to dream of such a thing.  I kept saying, "Well, I will try and when all I make is colostrum again at least the baby will have gotten the good antibodies and I will be OK.  I won't let it upset me this time." 

Hubby must have had other plans because someone told the hospital staff that I would be attempting to breastfeed.  When they came to me to confirm I panicked inside.  I thought everyone was going to see me fail again.  I was going to start a third child's life out by failing him.  It scared me more than I allowed anyone to know.  (At least I think I hid it pretty well.)  But, I decided that if I was going to fail I should at least actually fail instead of just failing by refusing to try.  So we gave it a shot.

I was a total roller coaster with it.  Will has a great affinity for breastfeeding.  He automatically took to it.  It made my hope soar.  Then they weighed Will and he had lost weight.  That soaring hope crashed like a kite when the wind disappears.  And repeat.  Then a nurse had me start pumping and I would add a twist to each run of the roller coaster.   I was so freaked out that each time I got any milk I made the nurse look at it to tell me if any of it was milk as opposed to colostrum.  I even stayed in the hospital an extra day just to keep track of Will's weight. 

Eventually I had to go home but Will and I kept at it.  And guess what?  We had success.  When we went for his one week visit at the doctor the weight loss had stopped.  He had even gained back an ounce.  The doctor told us to come back in two weeks (earlier if things seemed to not be going well) and we would know for sure.  He even gave Will and I a goal.  He wanted Will to be back to his birth weight by this visit.

Yesterday we had that visit.  I was a bit nervous about it.  Will seemed to be back to his birth weight but what if it was all wishfull thinking?  Well, I am proud to say that we hit our goal.  Will weighed 9 lbs 3 oz at birth.  When we left the hospital he was at 8 lbs 7 oz.  That first visit had Will weighing in at 8 lbs 8 oz.  At this visit Will weighed 10 lbs 2.8 oz!  That's right yo!  He is almost a full pound heavier than when he was born.  He gained 27 oz in 14 days!  Go Will!  And go boobies!  :)

Amazingly, breastfeeding gets to be something I can say I have conquered now!  I don't know what was so different this time.  It could be the fact that my boys took care of me while I was pregnant.  It could be Will's amazingness.  No matter what the difference I just want to say Yay!