Feeding stories from the DD Community
There are so many ways to feed a child – whatever your journey, we're here for it.
Following my last newsletter, I have put together a collection of the feeding stories that have been shared with me – in no particular order. I hope these stories bring comfort not comparison and remove all expectations and of course, the guilt – especially to those who are deep in the trenches of new motherhood. I truly hope this helps you feel informed, confident and supported in whichever way you choose to feed your child. As always, you are not alone.
Twins and triple feeding | Natalie Woods, Mother of 2
“I triple fed twins for four months (breastfeed followed expressed breastmilk in a bottle and then pumped more milk). Then I moved to combo breastfeeding and formula until six months when we moved to just solids and breastmilk. Plus weaned off nipple shields sometime in the mix too! It was exhaustingggg – breastfeeding and putting the boys back to sleep at night just to get up and sit in the living room expressing. So much effort and the boys always teetered on not enough weight gain. So many tears and anxious nights worrying about their weight and feeling “not enough”. Then seeing other women breastfeed with ease. But a wise friend told me early on that it’s all a gift including the different tools we are lucky to use to feed our babes AND that once they started on solids everyone would stop asking if they were breastfed! She was 100% right.
Breastfeeding is amazing and beautiful but it’s so so hard for so many women and babies. I wish we could celebrate all journeys more so new mums know that however they feed their babies is amazing and perfect and wonderful. There is so much emphasis on it but does it matter in adulthood? No. I have no idea how my friends were fed as babies and they all still grew into wonderful amazing and perfect people.”
First latch false hope | Esther Hesse, Mother of 2
“With my first, I vividly remember being taken into the recovery room post-surgery and the nurse walking over with my daughter, Hart. She picked her up out of her little crib and handed her to me, telling me to “get her on the boob!” As she walked off, I blurted out, “How? I haven’t done it before.” “Don't worry you will be just fine,” she claimed, then left us alone – just me and this tiny human I now have to keep alive. I popped Hart onto my boob and helped her nuzzle my nipple, and to my surprise she took it straight away and I sat there in amazement thinking ‘wow, is this it?’ That was easier than I ever imagined it to be, but that was the single peaceful moment I had with breastfeeding.
The next six weeks of feeding were horrible. Hart lost too much weight and we were stuck in the hospital longer than I wanted to be and when we were released my days consisted of feeding and expressing. First hour feed, second hour express and third hour feed again. Evan as I expressed that I barely got 20-30mls each pump, and that it felt crushing. We had to take Hart in for weekly check-ins to monitor her weight closely. I felt like a failure. I was exhausted and I had a baby that cried, no, screamed, every time I tried to feed her, it got to the point that I just hated it. I hated her being on my boob. The sensation of it didn’t feel right anymore and I silently cried as I tried to feed her. My partner had always supported what I chose to do but eventually, he could see how broken I was and said I should go to formula. He reminded me that Hart would be fed, happy and healthy, gaining weight.
That sixth week, I had been lucky to speak to other mothers who had shared their stories with me about going to formula and it was at that point that I realised that for the health of Hart and my mental health it was time to switch to formula. And for me, it was a game-changer, Hart became a different baby, she started sleeping well, she was happy and finally, my baby was fattening up. I remember feeding her and she would look at me like I had literally created the sun and moon for her, it melted my heart. Feeding time went from being stressful with tears to this amazing bonding moment with my beautiful baby girl. I will definitely try and breastfeed again if I am lucky enough to have another baby but I don’t regret my choice to go to formula at 6 weeks. I have a beautiful, healthy little girl and to me, that has nothing to do with her being on the breast or formula. Bonding came from sharing moments together that weren't stressful for either of us; they were our little moments of love and connection.”
Jack of all trades | Amanda Joe, Mother of 1
“Growing up, my mother always told me how she wasn’t able to breastfeed me, and how her mother couldn’t her. So when I fell pregnant, I told myself to be positive and what would be, will be.
Thankfully after I gave birth, my daughter Agnes found my dark-pepperoni-pizza-aureolas and latched, then the amazing midwives were able to hand express wee bits of colostrum out; so far, so good. Then, I went home…
Wow, after being very aware and in-touch with my own body through many years of dance and competitive exercise, breastfeeding really knocked me for six. I had no idea what was happening; no idea of what was coming next, what was happening to me as it was happening and no idea of what to do when things didn’t feel right. There was a lot of pain, doubt, uncertainty and tears. Many clogged ducts, mastitis several times and then thrush, which seemed to have many varying treatment methods for and took months to find one that worked. In the end I had to be on antibiotics for almost 11 months. Which in itself was another kettle of fish.
This was also just what was happening to me, not to mention all the developments a new human goes through and how they react to your milk and boob. Aggie could only be fed in a dark room with no noise for months on end. It was like living in a meth lab for up to six times a day at the beginning! She was always easily distracted and wasn’t a boob monster like so many other babies I would see. It really was a full time job and not something that came easily to us.
Yet for some reason, I pushed through, mainly because Agnes was putting on weight and because I wanted to trust that she was getting what she needed, even when half the time she was more interested in the remote control than feeding. I was also able to do this with the support of my partner and him giving her the bottle once a day, this freed me up for a couple of hours and let me feel like I wasn't shackled to the job.
It took me a long time to work out what worked for us and that one guide/book was the only way. I learnt a lot about myself, about how I process and how I’m one of those rare few that really liked different opinions, suggestions and advice. Only so that I could form my own guidelines and come up with the right way that worked for us. In the end our feeding journey has included boob, bottle, pumping and formula, which now writing this down makes me realise; I have always been a "jack of all trades and master of none" and it is no different in motherhood! So maybe I just need to doubt myself less and trust that I would eventually get there?”
Never give up on a bad day | Bobby Clark, Mother of 1
“I had wanted a baby for such a long time and always knew I wanted to breastfeed. After having a great pregnancy and birth I thought I would take to it naturally but I found it extremely difficult. Looking back I think I let self-doubt take over and I read too much which in the end made it super hard.
As soon as James was born I instinctively put him to my boob with the guidance of my amazing midwives. He latched quickly and we were left for an hour to have time as a new family of three before any checks were done. We were lucky that because my delivery was uncomplicated we were given a family room which meant that Steve could stay overnight with us. That night, I started to struggle with James feeding for three hours straight. He would just drink and drink. He had a very shallow latch which meant he wasn't getting the full flow of my milk which meant feeds were LONG. The midwives at The Mercy [hospital for women] were amazing, I constantly needed their guidance with every feed. It was like every feed was the first time. I ended up staying in the family room for three nights so I could get extra support with feeding. I remember feeling really apprehensive about going home, as much as I was looking forward to being home with my new baby, I didn't want to leave the safety net of the midwives. I only have my brother here in Australia so not having my mum or my mother-in-law in the first few weeks was quite daunting. I believe it takes a village but mine was on the other side of the world.
Nothing quite prepares you for the first few weeks after having a baby. People tell you but you can never quite understand it until you are there. The hormones, the lack of sleep, the love, the enormity of being responsible for a tiny life that will one day be a person is huge. It's strange, I have never felt so lonely in my entire life at the same time as never feeling so happy. Those 4am feeds just you, your baby and the world really takes you inside yourself.
I continued to see the lactation consultants at The Mercy once a week for 3 months, and I also saw a private consultant. I honestly wouldn't have been able to cope without the women at the hospital – they were so patient with me week after week. Every time I thought we had nailed it we took two steps back; James's latch was so shallow I constantly worried he wasn't getting enough milk so would pump straight after long feeds for 20 minutes each side that then led to engorged boobs. I remember days crying in pain with rock solid boobs, exhausted from pumping when I should have been sleeping. Steve leading me sobbing to bed with a jar of coconut oil to massage my boobs while lying with my head off the end of bed. My nipples were sore and cracked and I ended up getting vasospasms after every feed which was agony.
I spoke to so many friends about feeding, seeking their advice on how to nail the latch. There were days when I sat crying watching the sunrise after hours and hours of relentless feeding wanting to give up, crying asking my baby why he was never full. I wanted to buy formula so many times but my husband Steve always encouraged me to persist, that it would get easier. I would repeat one piece of advice from my cousin every bad day that kept me going, ‘Never give up on a bad day.’
James started sleeping through around 4-6 weeks and I didn't know you should still express at 4am to keep up my supply so my milk dropped off dramatically. It wasn't until a few weeks later my doctor told me to express but it was too late.
One day I decided to stop pumping all together, stop the top ups, stop the 4am expressing and just trust my body and my baby. We started James on solids at 4 months to help him gain weight as he has dropped weight from the 50th to the 25th percentile. At 9.5 months we have found our grove and the difficult start to the feeding journey is now blurry. Those early days of struggling, crying, self doubt and the loneliness being replaced by gratitude that we kept going and will do for some time. The first 6 weeks are so hard, but you do get there and it is worth every tear. We are so lucky to have access to incredible support… I would do it all again in a heartbeat.”
Tough beginnings, beautiful endings | Alexandra Whiting, Mother of 1
“August arrived by emergency caesarean after induction led to a cascade of intervention. As a final bit of medical mishap, I had a reaction to the epidural while in surgery. It climbed up to my throat, leaving me to feel like I couldn’t breathe. I was given oxygen, and once my son was pulled up and into my eye line, the anaesthetist said, “there’s your baby. Can you see your baby?” I nodded hard, gasping into the mask. Then he said, “OK, now I’m going to let you rest,” and I was knocked out.
Two hours later, my rattled husband, Christian, passed me our perfect newborn and with some prompting from a nurse, I brought him to my boob and he started to suck. I was relieved that after a messy labour and birth, something seemed to be a little bit more as per instructions.
The next few days in hospital were hazy. Drugs, joy, tiny amounts of sleep and the slow extractions of medical equipment from my body. Some colostrum was extracted, and August kept sucking, and I replied ‘well’ when the rotation of midwives asked how feeding was going. But I didn’t know what I was talking about, and no one else really checked.
On our last night in hospital, my baby couldn’t relax. I’d bring him to me to feed, he’d suck vigorously, then he’d fall asleep only to wake up a few minutes later. A midwife came and told me he was fussy, then asked if I’d brought a dummy.
At discharge August’s weight had dropped 336 grams. More than they’d like, but not enough for it to be a problem. The next day, however, it was a different story. At my first home visit, less than 24 hours since we’d left the hospital, the midwife was worried. August’s weight had dropped another 164 grams, 13 percent since birth, and he hadn’t progressed to the yellow, milk poos. She was also concerned that my nipples were so battered. I’d had friends tell me, chaffed, bleeding nipples were normal, so I was going with it. She told me she didn’t think my milk had come in, but didn’t give me much information on what that meant. She advised an electric pump, ASAP, formula and an intense schedule of feeding and pumping which we had to record on a timesheet. Tired, fragile and scared, my husband and I felt immense failure. One day in and we were already falling short as parents. But we were determined to do as we were told and get our boy fed.
We didn’t have the money to spend on an electric pump, so Christian returned from this emergency shop with a hand pump, nipple shields and formula. The schedule involved breastfeeding him on each boob, then giving him a bottle of formula or expressed milk, and then pumping. At first the whole process took almost two hours, and we were doing it every three hours. So there wasn’t a lot of time to do anything else, like sleep, or eat.
My own mum had gone back to NSW the evening before. She had flown to us in Melbourne when my labour became complicated, but wanted to respect my (ignorant) wishes to have just Christian, myself and the baby at home alone for the first few weeks. In floods of tears, I called and asked her to come back. Christian and I were focused on taking care of August, but we needed someone to take care of us, which she did.
The first few entries on the schedule records, 20 minutes on each breast, 30mls of formula, 5-10mls expressed. Green poos and a wakeful baby. Lots of scribbles and mistakes. The time I spent trying to breastfeed drops to 10, and then five minutes, with a note at 1am “struggled to latch”. Another at 3:45am shows him going straight to the expressed milk, and then formula. I remember that time as the hardest of my life. August was sleeping much more, and I was relieved that the formula and expressed milk was keeping him full, but with fluctuation hormones, great expectation gone unmet and the realisation that our hard labour was not going to have the payoff that breast feeding would be easy, I felt manic and so disappointed.
The next time I woke up, things were different. With a new dawn, my boobs had become engorged, hard and ready to burst. I remember pulling off my wet pajama top and spraying the mirror. My milk had come in.
From then, the timesheet denotes successful feeds (though August had some trouble latching to the new, faster milk), expressions of 60-70mls and a transition to mustard-coloured milk poos. It was clear he was feeling much fuller, but we’d been instructed to keep up the schedule for 48 hours, so we were still giving him bottles of expressed milk after his breast feed, we no longer needed formula - the fridge was filling up with pastel yellow bottles. The kid was so stuffed, all he could do was sleep, but we kept waking him to feed as prescribed.
I started using the Haakaa cup to catch all the excess milk, and was getting 50mls a side. The next morning, the nurse ( a different nurse) arrived for the follow up visit and let out a cry of joy seeing the cup so full. When she lifted our comatose baby to the scales Chris and I held our breath. We knew just from being with him that he’d regained some of the weight he’d lost, but we felt our fate was with this outcome. He’d gained 280g in 48hours. A tenth of his body weight. “That’s like me putting on 9kgs in a weekend,” exclaimed my husband. The nurse, Debbie, looked at our weary faces, but her hands on our shoulders and said, “It’s OK, you did good. You can relax now.” No more recording feeds, or keeping to a schedule, or expressing if we didn’t want to, just feed on demand. She noticed the nipple shields and said it was fine to use them, but to keep trying without them so I didn’t become “reliant”, and she also worried that I might have gone too far the other way, and encouraged an oversupply (there’s always something).
Now, August is three, we’ve had fevers, hospital visits, sleep regressions, a long stretch of time without Chris, but those 48hours when we tried to establish feeding were the hardest. The silver lining is that it was a crash course into some hard parenting truths. Firstly, nothing lasts forever. I went to sleep not having enough milk to breastfeed my child, and woke with too much. Secondly, ask for help when you need it. It’s the smartest thing you can do as a new parent. Thirdly, and this was a big one, be kind to yourself. Give yourself time. If I had been helped to understand “milk coming in”, I would have still brought him to me to feed, but then given him formula, so that he was full, and my body could rest. The stress and anguish over trying to express the tiny amounts of milk was detrimental to my mind and body, and it was only hours later that I was ready to feed triplets! As a mum, for me at least, doing what feels right, has often been right. I used nipple shields (unashamedly) until August was about four months. At that point I found I just no longer needed them. The pain was gone, my nipples had adapted, and Augie really knew how to suck. I kept using the Haakaa cup so there was always milk in the fridge, and he kept up a daily bottle feed. This meant his dad could take the early morning shift and I could sleep in. When he was older, it meant I could leave him and know that his nourishment could be met without my presence. It gave me a sense of freedom knowing that I wasn’t required at every feed.
When he was about 14 months, our breastfeeding journey ended without fuss. He was well established on solid food, having a milk bottle at night, and had started sleeping more regularly through the night - the only time we still breastfed. Soon it had been days since I’d cuddled him into a feed, and I realised we’d weaned. I did worry a little about losing what sometimes felt like a miracle fix for all his ailments. I think my husband did too. But it came organically and it felt timely. I am thankful for our feeding experience, it was a tough start but the ease and abundance with which it came later gave me confidence. I leaned into it, enjoyed the peace, comfort, responsibility and connection it offered. It was the life experience that’s most made me feel that I truly was enough.”
Low supply and learning fed is best | Amy Hamilton, Mother of 4
“Aside from the immediate post birth feed of my first baby, Audrey, for me there was nothing easy when it came to breastfeeding.
I always felt I was holding her awkwardly, I could never get her attached correctly and after a few days the pain was excruciating, my nipples were grazed, cracked and bleeding, I would hold my breath as I latched Audrey, and as I tried to get her on the breast correctly, she screamed and grew increasingly impatient.
Audrey had lost more than 10% of her birth weight, so a plan to get her weight back up ultimately decided how I would end up feeding for. To give my breasts time to heal, I stopped breastfeeding for a few days. While I pumped each feed, my husband would syringe feed her my colostrum, then I would top up with formula. I was only 3 days into motherhood and I already felt like I had failed as a mum, I cried for hours that day.
The routine was overwhelming but we worked as a team and it was suppose to be short term. Our aim was to increase breastfeeds and cut back on formula once I had enough of a supply. I was taking a herbal supplement that can help increase milk supply and a medication which can also help, as well as lactation cookies and tea.
My milk eventually came in, and pumping just 10mls of liquid gold felt like Christmas, it also gave me hope that I would eventually be able to exclusively breastfeed, and ditch the formula. As the weeks progressed this wasn’t to be, my supply never increased enough to satisfy an increasingly hungry newborn, the most I would pump was 20mls, and Audrey continued to need formula.
At around 12 weeks I made the decision to only formula feed, trying to maintain a routine of breastfeeds, bottle feed, formula top up and then pumping, not to mention all the sterilising was taking all the enjoyment out of bonding with my baby. I was angry that my body wouldn’t do what it was designed to do, and I was frustrated that I had to remember formula and bottles every time I left the house, but ultimately I felt like I had failed my baby.
Formula seemed like a dirty word, and I use to dread pulling out a bottle to feed in public. I stressed that my baby wouldn’t thrive, or would have a compromised immune system because she didn’t get enough antibodies from being breastfed.
When my second baby came along, I hoped that breastfeeding would be easier, I was also prepared for the same outcome. I had a better breastfeeding experience from the start with Louie, but again my supply became the issue, I ended up asking for a pump and formula on our second day post birth. Around 10 weeks, Louie refused the breast and that was enough for me to decide to keep things simple and formula feed him – I felt rejected when he pushed me away, but I also felt like I had more knowledge and confidence to know that a happy baby and a happy Mum were more important than trying to persevere with something that was getting harder by the day.
After 4 children I can now truly say I have experienced a wide range of feeding and the ups and downs that come with it.”
4 babies, 4 stories and donor milk | Paris Lucas, Mother of 4
“When I was a first time mum, I had little to no education, mentors or social media advice etc. and I stopped breastfeeding my son at 3 months old as bottles seemed ‘easier’ – this is something I will always hold some guilt about as I was only 23 and did not educate myself whatsoever about the health benefits of breastmilk.
When I had my second son I made up for this lost time and fed him day and night with attachment parenting methods and demand feeding for 19 months. I really enjoyed this experience until he became a toddler and it was no longer a two way relationship but a demand from him only and I began to not enjoy it anymore. I was so proud of my efforts though and weaning was something I was very content with at his age.
My third pregnancy I was very confident with breastfeeding again and my third son fed perfectly and similar to his older brother. I loved feeding him but when he was 11 months old I surprisingly fell pregnant again. I was feeding a lot and did not have my cycle back so this was a big shock on all parts.
I continued to feed him until I couldn’t stand the feeling anymore amongst my very sick first trimester.
I weaned him over a long weekend when we was 14 months old and enjoyed the rests of my pregnancy having my body to myself (kind of).
When my 4th baby, my daughter was born at home I was in a total natural state and knew exactly what to do. She latched straight afterbirth and for the first week or 2 she was a content newborn as I had hoped.
Around 2 weeks old she became more and more unsettled. Feeding lots but causing a lot of gas pains. I adjust my diet over and over but nothing helped. We realised she was experiencing colic. A first for us. The screaming went on for another week when we ended up seeing a GP as nothing was helping her. She has lost drastic weight and we were sent to hospital for monitoring. It was around this time my husband has returned to work and I was starting my “mum of 4” life and the stress started to build.
On arriving in hospital and plugging in a breast pump for the first time since she was born I pumped to only have 5-10ml express.
We then realised my supply had been the underlying issue and our baby was screaming out of hunger. As I pumped and pumped trying to get milk for her nothing was helping. We went to the donor milk bank near the hospital and began topping her up with donor breast milk. Tongue and lip ties were also discovered so we had those released while working on re-latching and to gain my supply back. Not much seemed to work and we had to top her up with donor milk every day.
I did not give up and tried herbal remedies, prescription medicines, multiple lactation consultants and endless milk boosting recipes. I pumped day and night but nothing seems to be enough. Since 3 weeks Post birth we have joined Facebook milk donation pages and driven all over the place collecting donations in exchange of storage bags. Our daughter has been fed by more mothers than I can keep count. She will have an incredible immune system after so many different antibodies and this has opened me up to a whole world I never knew existed with my other children.
After a week of bleeding pained nipples from still trying to pump every day to get milk for her I stopped. I am proud of myself for continuing for 6 months to try and do what I can to relactate but my health has been deteriorating from the whole experience. I had finally started to feel at peace with it all and I continued to breastfeed her via donor milk for as long as I can.
I was always someone who thought breastfeeding was ‘easy’ and I believe this all happened to me for a reason and has taught me so many lessons.”
Happy mum, happy bub | Rhiannon Claire Holmes, Mother of 1
“I have always had anxiety, even before baby, and I had it throughout my pregnancy, and post baby. During my pregnancy I was so anxious about feeding; ‘will my baby feed well? Will she sleep? How much will she weigh? How do I know how much milk she is getting?’ The questions in my mind were relentless.
About week 28 pregnant I asked my obstetrician and midwife if I could formula feed. I knew I didn’t want to breastfeed, and knowing my history of anxiety, we all agreed formula feeding was best for me and my baby – happy Mum, happy bub. Having that decision before I gave birth took so much pressure off, and it allowed me to prepare both mentally and physically.
About a month or so before my due date at a birthing class, I became really upset. There was a class purely based only on breastfeeding – but what about the Mums who don’t want to breastfeed? Why isn’t there advice on bottle-feeding? Or types of formula? But I kept my mouth shut and did the research myself – what formula is best? How much do you give? Were among my Google queries.
The night Nina arrived, about 10 minutes after she was born, she started looking for my breast, and I freaked out. I quickly said to the nurses she’s looking to feed please get me the bottle. I started to shake, I started to cry. Is my decision to not breastfeed the right decision? Questions started to run through my mind as well as the guilt. As soon as the bottle reached Nina’s mouth she drank it with no hesitation. The relief was bliss! She was happy. She took the formula well and as the weeks went on, Nina was an Angel. She ate, she slept but the judgment still occurred. People would say to me, oh she’s bottle fed? Is that formula? Didn’t you even try to breastfeed? Have you built that bond with your child because you’re not breastfeeding? And it hurt! I knew the quick answers I had to give back to these comments. I got strong fast and did not let it bother me (well, my face didn’t show it). Bottle feeding is amazing for us. My daughter is growing and she is healthy. My husband could help with the feeds and so could my Mum. Feeding Nina formula was the best decision I made as a mum.“
Breastfeeding magic and mastitis | Katie Sinclair, Mother of 1
“On the 18th May 2020 at 9:03 my beautiful 3.8kg baby girl Goldie Lola Rutter entered the world, in those first few moments came the beginning of my breastfeeding journey.
From the get go it was no easy feat, if only my poor little breasts knew what they were in for. From the first latch something didn't feel right, but the midwifes reassured, "its breastfeeding not nipple feeding so make sure she is really on the breast" ... well I was doing my best, but Goldie was super impatient and very hungry so she would, what felt like lock jaw onto my breast and go for it, weather i liked it or not! This is where the severe cracked and bleeding nipples started. Each feed I was filled with pain, my toes would curl and my eyes watered as she latched on each time, and even though I was in excruciating pain, I was incredibly happy to be successfully feeding my baby.
Two weeks in, boobs still like Pamela Anderson (however not in a fun way) – I was so engorged and sore and my milk supply was in excess. At this stage I was not pumping as I didn't get much information about this. One day I suddenly started to feel like I had a fever. I was lethargic, headachy and sore, after asking loads of my friends, they all declared it was mastitis and told me to get in the shower and massage, massage massage those boobs, as well as apply a hot compress and take ibuprofen. I did all those things and after three days of hot and cold fevers it seemed to go away... but there was still a lump and redness on my left breast.
Another two weeks passed, I finally had a pump and had this breastfeeding thing sussed! I was SO happy and the pain of my nipples had subsided. I thought this is it, this is how it’s meant to feel and now I’ll just feed in harmony – all will be rainbows and sunshine from here on in… how wrong I was.
Once again, the fever came on and so did the hot and cold sweats. I thought I knew the drill, so I got in the shower and did all the massaging and pumping I could. But this time it was different, I woke to my left breast engorged and lumpy. It had red track lines that went from my nipple all the way across my breast under my arm and beyond. With this came the inability to feed on my left side as my nipple had totally inverted and wouldn't come out so I was unable to empty the breast, also the pain was something else. The slightest touch felt like I was being branded with a scorching iron.
After trying to deal with it myself, I booked an emergency appointment at the local doctors – the doctor, without even looking at my breast and advised it was probably mastitis and to have antibiotics. Six days later it had not gotten much better, so I booked into see my OB. When I took off my top, his face told me this was not good. He said it was the worst mastitis he had ever seen and that I had to have a double dose of oral antibiotics for a week. I went back the next week and he had another look and feel and said he wasn’t happy with it so I needed to do another week of antibiotics – that’s three weeks of oral antibiotics and I’m still breastfeeding my 5 week old baby off one breast.
Another week later, and by the Friday I’d had enough. I called the hospital and went straight in, they immediately put me on IV antibiotics and organised an ultrasound. I was in hospital for 5 days and I wasn’t any better. Then, on the third day they decided to add another antibiotic so I was getting pumped with that every 8 hours as well. As a first time mother who was that sick, it felt like this was actually the worst time of my entire life.
The ultrasound came back with the worst news in my case.... a breast abscess.... they see maybe one of these a year (I live in rural town in Western Australia). No one really had any answers for me, and after being in hospital and away from my husband and baby – for five days, I pumped and my husband took Goldie in the evenings so I could rest. They then told me I was being transferred to a bigger hospital that had the correct surgeons and equipment for my condition. I was completely inconsolable, the tears just wouldn't stop, I was an absolute wreck and at the end of my tether – not to mention I was completely terrified.
When we arrived I had to go straight to Emergency. After two days and more blood tests, IVs and ultrasounds they decided to try and aspirate the abscess under ultrasound (apparently it’s very routine and with zero down time). I was praying this would work, and it did! I was discharged the morning after and was on antibiotics for another week, then i had to have another aspiration and and one last lot of antibiotics. By the end, I was onto my 7 seventh week of antibiotics, feeding on one breast but happy, oh so happy!
A week went on and I was feeding one day and that was the last time I breastfed. I had lost my milk completely, almost over night. I woke up and Goldie latched and i could just tell that there was nothing there..... it was gone. I wish i held onto that last feed longer and i wish i knew it was the last one because i would have relished in it, because when breastfeeding is good, its’ magic. From then on, Goldie was completely formula fed – and she was and is happy, healthy and thriving. My breastfeeding journey may have been cut short but I still sat and stared, holding her and enjoyed the moments feeding our girl.”
Expectations and exclusively expressing | Kiki Naidoo, Mother of one
“Breastfeeding isn’t always beautiful. That’s an unfortunate truth. And one that I wish I knew prior to having my baby. For if I knew, I believe it would have saved a lot of heartache.
When I was pregnant people would ask me if I was planning on breastfeeding. ‘Yes, of course,’ I would reply. Everyone in my family breastfed and I would follow suit. I envisioned my baby being born and placed on my breast, bonding as she fed into her toddler years. I had purchased nursing bras and pads, a breast pump, packed away all of the clothes that I couldn’t breastfeed in and had lessons and video demonstrations from my midwife. I was 100% committed to breastfeeding.
However, at 42 weeks we had a very traumatic induced birth and were separated for 12 hours as she had to go to NICU for CPAP, antibiotics and throat suctioning (due to meconium) – and I haemorrhaged badly. When I was reunited with my skinny 2.9kg baby, she didn’t feel like mine, but I placed her at my breast and fed as best we could, given our rough start.
I nursed for six weeks. In that time, I saw two different lactation consultants, had her checked for ties, saw an osteopath to have her jaw released, tried many methods, positions, shields and more but nothing brought us closer to that beautiful breastfeeding experience. Every feed was full of pain, nipple injuries and incredible mental stress. I got mastitis twice, and at my six weeks check-up, had a breakdown in my GP’s office.
For those first six weeks, I didn’t really enjoy my baby. She brought me pain and stress, and I struggled to be around her or even sleep, knowing I would have to feed her soon. My GP was concerned for my mental health, as was my husband, so she suggested switching to exclusively expressing. I didn’t know it was an option but jumped into it as soon as we left the office. It was hard, my god, it was hard for the first three months.
Physically, I had to teach myself how to pump, as it was a whole new skill set. I battled thrush, blisters, incorrect flange sizes, vasospasm, milk blebs and more. It was an uphill battle but something I was determined to make work. I tried going back to breast so many times, however, each time brought pain and distress all over again (or mastitis) and I had to accept that it wasn’t meant to be for this baby.
Emotionally, that was the hardest. I grieved the loss of directly breastfeeding. I had no idea you could experience breastfeeding grief, but I went through all the stages of grief, sometimes over and over again. I cried for hours upon hours most days, my heart was broken, my spirit shattered, my identity as a mother completely in pieces.
I eventually saw a psychologist as I had a lot of symptoms of post-natal depression and post-natal anxiety. All brought on from the expectations I had placed upon myself to breastfeed. I felt so alone. Like I was the only woman in this world to struggle with breastfeeding. Like I was less of a woman and mother because I couldn’t feed my baby at my breast. Like I wouldn’t have the same bond with my baby because she isn’t feeding on me.
I felt angry and let down that no professionals could help me and that I couldn’t make this work. I completely doubted myself and my body, focusing on all the things it couldn’t do (not appreciating that not that long ago I had brought life into this world).
I discovered that so many women struggle to breastfeed, some moving to exclusively expressing and others moving to formula or a combination – all great options for different families. I found my community in the Facebook group Exclusively Expressing Australia, a group of thousands of women who had struggled to breastfeed but continued breastfeeding via pumping and bottle feeding. Women that shared my story or similar, that had been on the same emotional rollercoaster or were still riding it. I wasn’t so alone after all.
My experience taught me that babies need strong and capable mothers more than they need our actual breasts. And that breastfeeding is hard, messy and sometimes plain ugly. For some, it just works. For others, it’s a challenging journey full of obstacles but eventually it works as well. And for others like me, it doesn’t work in the way we envisioned, and that’s okay too.
I have been fortunate enough to have a great supply, so I have donated 50L of milk to feed five different babies whose mothers also struggled to breastfeed for a whole number of reasons. Donating and connecting with these women really helped me to heal.”
Oversupply and over it | Emily Gallagher, Mother of 2
“I have two boys, both currently under two, so my feeding experiences were pretty close together. Both are what older generations call ‘sicky babies’ - they’re not in pained reflux but they just puke happily after most feeds.
I was ‘lucky’ to have a serious oversupply - although only now feel able to say that this wasn’t easy at all - think constantly engorged and with such a strong let down the boys simply couldn’t take it most of the time.
With my first, I lasted 12 weeks - then introduced a few formula feeds a day but only gave up properly at 5 months. I can’t say I loved it but it was easy for me to produce the milk so I felt like I should. As soon as I moved to bottles though I felt so much better - other people could help, I knew what he was taking in, I could plan and control it, I wasn’t so exhausted.
With my second I really struggled. I had a toddler to watch - who seemed to know that feeding a baby left me immobile and unable to stop him reaching for hot things or climbing on the coffee table. I was absolutely exhausted and as well as feeds I was constantly cleaning up puke all over again.
My husband convinced me to stop at 10 weeks and go fully to formula. This is not what health visitors wanted - I had milk and feeding was easy so ‘keep going’ was basically what I was told. Social media didn't help - I couldn't believe that there were over 4 million tagged photos of breastfeeding on Instagram (every mother's achilles heel / solace but also place to compare and doubt yourself - rightly or wrongly) and under 200k of bottle feeding. I felt guilty, I debated it for a while - then I just gave up.
I felt SO much better (just like the first time round) when I switched to bottle. It's still not simple as the sickness hasn't stopped and we've had to add thickeners to every bottle and for a larger percentage of each bottle to stay down. But I love the fact that I have scheduled times and amounts for each feed, that I can increase or decrease what he's taking in depending on what's needed, that my husband and others can help, that I don't have to rush back anytime I get to actually leave him for some much needed brain space.
The judgement is insane. I feel like formula is frowned upon, no two ways about it. Breastfeeding is seen as magical and natural and special and the endless topic of praise for new mums but at the end of the day fed is best. That's the bottom line. Both of my boys are happy and healthy, as am I.“