National Breastfeeding Week | My Breastfeeding Story

Last week was National Breastfeeding Week, and August is National Breastfeeding Month. To celebrate, I wanted to share a little about my own breastfeeding journey.

But first - if you’re expecting and interested in booking a maternity and/or newborn session with me, tap the button below to learn more. I can’t wait to document your story + this sweet season of life!

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I want to quickly preface that although this month is about one specific type of feeding your child (breastfeeding), fed IS ultimately best - whatever that may look like for you and your family.

My pregnancy was amazing until it wasn’t, and I felt great until I didn’t. Around week 23 I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes, followed by a preeclampsia diagnosis at 36 weeks. I was induced at 37 weeks and 1 day, which resulted in an emergency c-section.

It’s hard to say for sure if the c-section or any of the other health scares led to a bumpy start to my and Harry’s breastfeeding journey, but of course my mind kept going back to the end of my pregnancy and his birth: wondering if I could’ve maybe done something differently that would’ve brought him in to the world in a less chaotic manner; perhaps a vaginal birth would’ve led to that instant bond created (or so they say) when you breastfeed your baby.

Despite these intrusive thoughts, I’m proud of myself for not beating myself up too much in those first days. I had a (thankfully) pretty easy recovery - it was not nearly as painful or difficult as I’d been told c-sections could be. But getting Harry to latch and successfully feed at the breast was just NOT happening. We tried nipple shields at the hospital and brought in two different lactation consultants, but he really just wasn’t having it. We supplemented with donor milk at the hospital while I waited for my milk to come in.

When we got home I put all my focus and energy in to pumping, which was also an experience I feel very fortunate to have found relatively easy. I’ve talked to so many other mamas who loathed pumping and swear that the sound of a pump makes them tense up even now. But I found it to be a nice “excuse” for “me time”. Although, I think it would’ve been a completely different story had I not had the help we were lucky enough to receive from both of our parents in those first few weeks. It also “helped” that Harry had a tiny appetite (a whole other stressor, but that’s a story for another day) and I had a consistent supply.

Harry would breastfeed for very short periods and very inconsistently over the next few weeks. At the end of his first month, I’d pretty much given up on breastfeeding entirely. Plus, we were now supplementing my breast milk with formula to see if that would help get his weight up. It seemed like breastfeeding just wouldn’t be in the cards for us, and I was actually okay with that.

Then, around month 2.5-3, I had the urge to try again. I’m not sure what drove me to try or when it actually happened, but all I know is that one day he was perfectly content with just taking a bottle and the next, he was breastfeeding like a champ! I wish I had more context or tips to share around this time, but it’s all quite foggy (newborn life, am I right?). But I think the reason I can’t pinpoint the exact moment is perhaps because I didn’t allow myself to put a ton of pressure on either of us if it ended up not working (again).

I continued to pump for probably 70% of his feedings. We breastfed in the mornings and at night, and occasionally throughout the day. Once he started daycare when he was 9 months old, we dropped to just 1-2 times a day (sometimes in the morning and always at bedtime). It was a special thing that the two of us shared, but I felt just as connected to him when I fed him from a bottle. And I can’t lie - I loved that bottle feeding allowed for others to step in and feed him so I could have some alone time.

I’d planned to continue breastfeeding until he was one year old, which conveniently lined up with our first trip out of the country as a family of three (the trip I’m currently on now, in July - another story for another day!). I always thought in my determined, type-A mind that it would be me who decided when we’d be done, but it was Harry that seemingly woke up and decided one day that we’d concluded our breastfeeding journey. Around his eleven month birthday (almost to the day), I went to go feed him at bedtime per our normal routine, and I swear he looked at my boob and pointed to it in disgust. Of course a baby can’t be disgusted in that way, but that’s the only way I can think to describe it! It was equal parts hilarious and sad. The next evening I tried again, and he actually did breastfeed — but, unbeknownst to me then, this would be our last time. It was actually harder for me to let go of pumping (which I went on to do for two more months) than it was to come to terms that we were finished breastfeeding. Pumping had always been the most reliable method of feeding my baby, and had become an integral part of my every day routine (which I craved in the midst of the chaotic day-to-day that is life with a newborn!). It felt like once I stopped pumping, I was officially closing the book on a very significant and special chapter of motherhood.

All said and done, I’m most proud of myself not for “getting it right eventually”, but for not beating myself up when it didn’t go according to my plan - which I quickly (and thankfully) realized was built on an idea ingrained in my mind due to years of TV, movies, friends, and family members making it seem like breastfeeding was the most normal, natural, and best thing a mother could do for her child. I know now that this couldn’t be further from the truth of what feeding your baby could actually look like and does look like for many mamas.

If breastfeeding has taught me anything, it’s that there is no one way to do it right when it comes to motherhood and parenting. I’m thankful to have learned this lesson early on in my motherhood journey, and for the friends and family members whom I was able to lean on when it wasn’t so easy. I hope my story gives a little hope or encouragement to anyone who is or has struggled with their own feeding journey. Whether your story looks similar or completely different than mine, I hope you know how amazing you are and how lucky your baby is to have you as their mother. You’re doing GREAT, mama!

xo,
Anne-Catherine