She needed my love more than my milk

When I was pregnant, I read a lot about pregnancy, birth and breastfeeding.

I quite like my boobs, so I wasn't too fond of the idea of having them battered and bruised, but the more I read about the benefits, and the more they swelled, I decided I wanted to give it a go - no pressure.

Abbey was in an incubator for a week and spent two weeks in SCBU

Pressure: The day after Abbey’s birth (5 weeks early) I was told quite bluntly that staring into her incubator was not going to help her, I needed to give her my milk.

My body was still in shock, I had not had any leaking beforehand so my boobs were not ready to deliver the precious milk. The lactation consultant showed me what to do, how to use my hand to manually express milk.

She makes me look huge and I make her look tiny!
Abbey in the hospital

Oh the pain, the searing pain, the hot tears on my face as I willed the milk to come. I used warm cloths to help bring the milk down and I squeezed and massaged and squeezed - there was no other option, I had to get my milk, my baby needed it.

My premature, underweight, tiny baby who had a cannula in her delicate little arm, who had wires on her monitoring her heart and her breathing. There was no time to catch up, to focus on healing post-surgery, on my weakness, on my upset or confusion, there was no time to think, I had to squeeze.

I don’t do pain, I don’t push through pain, sweat or tears, that just isn't me, but this wasn't about me.

My baby needed me and I needed to produce. After several hours, it came, the pain was severe but at last the sticky yellow substance (colostrum) appeared.

We bought a Medela Harmony breast pump for expressing

Once through, they reassured me more would come, I just needed to keep working at it. So I did, and slowly but surely I started to bring my baby 1ml, 3ml and 5ml of the yellow sticky substance that she needed. The nurses encouraged me, pushed me for more.

I felt so proud for getting it, for pushing past my limits to give her what she needed - but she needed more and I was exhausted.

Eventually they gave me the automatic pump. Oh that industrial hospital breast pump. Yes it took ages to get those tiny drips into the bottle, but it did come and the pain started to subside slowly - and as the pain eased, the substance started to change a milky colour.

We tried to breastfeed from the boob, but she was too small, it was too much work for her tiny mouth. The nurses pushed me, but I said no, my baby is hungry she needs my milk, but she doesn't have the energy, still with a cannula in her arm, still with beeps attached, I wanted to make her life as easy as I could, despite her difficult time.

“Put a tit on it, put it in the feeding tube - just get it into her,” I demanded.

On her fourth day, we started to breastfeed using a nipple shield - as it was easier for her to latch on to. But there were days when it was too distressing for both of us. She had very little patience so if she didn't get any milk after two of three tries she would get upset, which made me upset. At one week old, we were alternating between tube and expressed breast milk, to keep her energy up. At two weeks old I moved back into the hospital for three nights and we started breastfeeding again, because the nurses said full time expressing would be too much work.

She latched on using a nipple shield and fed every 3 hours  - perfect. Her weight returned to her birth (just 4.9lbs) and we got to bring her home.

At home during the day she could go two hours between feeds, but at night, she was still feeding almost every 90 mins. I was exhausted and emotional. I had to bring her into bed with me to get even 15 mins rest. I never took to breastfeeding, I certainly didn't enjoy it, I endured it - but it wore me down. I would cry at night when she cried. She was so much calmer when her father held her - and this made me upset. Despite all the help from my husband and family, I felt so alone, the weight of the responsibility bared down on me - she needs me, me alone to provide for her.

In the middle of all this Abbey had been born with a dislocated hip and needed to go to Temple Street Children’s Hospital in Dublin (2 hour drive away) every week for a check up, she was also put into a brace which made feeding much more awkward.

Abbey in Temple Street Hospital

I wasn't in pain, there were no latching problems and my baby was growing properly.
But I decided to quit breastfeeding after six weeks so I could love my baby.
I knew if I had stuck with it I would slip into some sort of depression. I was not enjoying my baby and I resented how calm she was with everyone else but me.
My little newborn who fought so hard to get out early and survive. My precious, beautiful tiny baby needed a happy mum, not a stressed one who was annoyed every time she cried.
I decided she needed my love more than my milk.

Having a cuddle after a night time bottle feed

As soon as I made the decision, I felt better. It took over 2 weeks to wean her onto formula. She loved it, she started to sleep better and became a little bit more content in herself. And I got to love her, to cuddle her, to watch her daddy feed her, to take a little step back and enjoy being a mother.

This is not a post against breastfeeding, I am pro breastfeeding, but it didn't work out for us. 
Quitting was the best adult decision I have ever made.

Would I breastfeed again? Absolutely.

Would I recommend you to breastfeed? I would advise you to try it, and to make the best decision for you, your baby and your family.

What was your experience of breastfeeding?