Latch-on Problems

I was a single, teenage, pregnant high-school dropout on top of the world, in love with my unborn child and her father. All I heard about breastfeeding was that I was too young, didn�t eat well enough, and wouldn�t have time for that and my friends. After a horrible birth, 20 stitches in my crotch and the shakes from Pitocin and Nubain, I wanted nothing to do with my baby.

I was horribly depressed; my beautiful baby was severely allergic to formula and I overcompensated by spending all the extra money we had on books and toys.

Pregnant again, I read The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding twelve times, and would not give in to offers of drugs or to have my water bag broken. I hemorrhage after birth, but this didn�t stop me from nursing my baby, 20 minutes each side, right after delivery.

�I�m doing it, I�m doing it!� I shouted, overjoyed. My baby was whisked away for tests and shots, and after to the nursery. �Wait, I�m rooming in,� I said. The nurse said they were just going to observe her for four hours, and I reminded her no bottles or pacifiers. She said they would just give one bottle, to see if she could suck and swallow. I said NO!

I waited two hours and walked down the hall and demanded my baby. I took her back to my room and tried to nurse. She refused. I waited two more hours, and tried again. She refused. I rang for help. �You want breastfeeding help?� We don�t have time; just give her the bottle of glucose water in the drawer of her crib.� the nurse replied. I asked for extra pillows, so I could get a better position to latch on my baby. �Sure,� said the nurse. Two hours later, no pillows.

At shift change, an older nurse helped me get the baby latched on. �Only ten minutes, then give the glucose water,� she said. She was no help.

I left the hospital with my baby sucking on the tip of my finger. She would not latch on, and I would not give her water. I drizzled colostrum into her mouth, pumped and fed her my milk or the formula the hospital gave me in a bottle.

On Christmas Eve the doctor on call said my baby had jaundice, and she should have no breast or pumped breastmilk. He bilirubin was very high. I decided to stop breastfeeding.

The next day, another doctor on call told me to pump milk and use it until the jaundice was gone. What an angel! A day later the jaundice was gone and I was fully engorged. I pumped and gave my daughter my milk in a bottle. I had so much I started freezing it.

That night, my husband and daughters slept, but I didn�t. There was an overwhelming sense of peace and love. All was calm. The baby rustled as I stood over her, but didn�t cry. I picked her up, took her over and sat down on the couch. I felt a strong let-down and saw my milk seep into my shirt. I unsnapped the hook on my bra and latched my baby on. She took to my breast like she had in the delivery room.

I knew then I had accomplished the greatest task of my life. I had never been, and probably never will be again, so happy in all my life.

My daughter is 2 1/2 and still nursing. She has never slept alone, and no artificial nipple has touched her lips since she was six days old.

We overcame many obstacles, including a breast infection, an employer who would not provide a place for me to pump, and a kidney infection I had when she was five months old, but nothing ever kept me from nursing her and nothing ever will.

I am a breastfeeding peer-counselor at my local WIC clinic and hope to give the support and help I could not find, to new mothers. I hope my story will inspire another mother to keep trying and be cautious of the medical community.

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