I considered giving up on breastfeeding when my son was just 24 hours old. I had been trying to feed him for hours, but my little preterm 36-weeker was struggling. If I got him to latch, a difficult feat in its own right, he drank for only a minute or so before falling asleep. When I tried to wake him, he’d only cry.
It made me feel like a bad mom when I failed to get him to latch, and it made me feel like a bad person to make him cry.
Without even making the explicit decision to do so, I somehow found myself practicing extended breastfeeding with a soon-to-be 14-month-old.
Eventually we found success, and now, because of the COVID-19 pandemic, it’s been over a year and I’m still nursing my son. Without even making the explicit decision to do so, I somehow found myself practicing extended breastfeeding with a soon-to-be 14-month-old—something only a little over a third of American parents do today.
When I first gave birth, breastfeeding seemed lonely and exhausting. Still at the hospital, my husband was asleep in the chair next to me; the nurse was off tending to another mother down the hall. My nipples were sore, my ears were ringing from my son’s crying, and my eyes hurt from trying to keep myself awake. I was also terrified that I might fall asleep and drop him.
“Just sit up straighter,” the nurse had offered. I tried that, and I guess it worked. The position gave my head a little farther to fall forward if I started to drift off, increasing the chances that the jolt would wake me. Still, it didn’t feel safe. I had visions of slumping forward in my sleep, the very same breasts meant to feed my son suffocating his tiny body instead.
Was it worth it? I asked myself. Wouldn’t it be better for everyone if I just asked for formula?
But something wouldn’t let me give up just yet. I hadn’t been able to labor for more than a couple hours before the doctors wheeled me into an operating room to cut my son out of me. My contractions hadn’t actually gotten any more painful than Braxton-Hicks, and while I had been terrified of labor pain, now that it was all over, I felt like I had missed out on something. The transition from being pregnant to being Mom had felt almost too quick. I didn’t want to miss out now on another experience just because it was hard.
So I woke my husband up and asked for help—and I kept asking. The next morning, I met with a lactation nurse who stayed with me for several hours, teaching me different ways to hold my newborn and wake him (a wet washcloth proved to be a gentler way of keeping him up). We scheduled home visits with a county-provided lactation nurse, and she introduced me to nipple shields to cut down on some of the pain. This helped a little, but my son still was reluctant to breastfeed for more than a couple minutes and it always ended in tears.
The transition from being pregnant to being Mom had felt almost too quick. I didn’t want to miss out now on another experience just because it was hard.
So, I started pumping, at first just to keep my supply up, then later to take the pressure off nursings. He didn’t seem to mind the bottle, maybe even preferred it, and I took comfort in knowing how many ounces he guzzled down.
After a while, pumping took over. It was easier and less painful. Since he had come early, it felt more important to make sure he was getting enough milk to grow, and repeated stressful attempts at breastfeeding were getting in the way of us bonding. In fact, for a while, I pretty much exclusively bottle-fed him. I might have continued that way had I not forgotten one day to bring enough pumped milk on an errand.
My hungry son began to cry in the store, and after realizing with a surge of panic that I didn’t have any milk in my diaper bag, I rushed out of the store. By the time we got to the parking lot, my son had turned bright red and his screams had reached a shrill pitch. We were almost a half hour from home and I knew what I had to do: I climbed in the back seat, whipped out a breast, and to my surprise, he didn’t hesitate. My son nursed happily for 20 whole minutes, almost like he’d been doing this forever.
I have no idea why it worked that day when it hadn’t before, but I felt a swell of pride. Suddenly, I understood why so many mothers liked breastfeeding. It didn’t feel lonely anymore; quite the opposite. I felt closer to my son than I ever had.
Once we had breastfeeding figured out, I wasn’t ready to give it up too quickly. I decided I’d at least continue until I went back to work. Then I told myself I’d keep breastfeeding while my son started daycare to make that transition easier. It became something to look forward to after a long day apart. Then, the pandemic hit: I started working from home, and there was no reason to stop breastfeeding. I didn’t need to make trips to the office pump room anymore, and there were no bosses wondering why my desk was empty.
Amid all of this uncertainty and anxiety, breastfeeding has been something that brings us both calm and soothing moments.
The pandemic has made parenting so much scarier and I, like so many parents, have been living with the fear that my family might get sick. Even a simple trip to that same grocery store now has its own risks. We have no idea when we’ll get to see the rest of our family, and my son went from seeing children his own age all day to being cooped up with us, and his dog, as his only playmates. He stopped sleeping through the night, which, while it may be a coincidence, feels to me to be a result.
Amid all of this uncertainty and anxiety, breastfeeding has been something that brings us both calm and soothing moments. It’s something that I can control when everything else in the world seems uncontrollable. I know that it is providing him with nutrients his body needs, and while it’s still early, it could even provide him with helpful antibodies. I also have more time to nurse him now. Sure, breastfeeding doesn’t look the same as it did when he was an infant. He doesn’t need me like he did then, but he seeks me out when he wants milk. Breastfeeding is something that I can do for my toddler in this strange new reality in which we all live, and it seems to be a comfort to him. It helps him calm down before he goes to bed, and it’s a way for us to bond in the mornings.
I have no idea how long I’ll continue breastfeeding. I didn’t have a plan going into this and I don’t have a plan now. I think I’ll just follow my son’s lead and we’ll stop when he wants to. In the meantime, I think I’ll just enjoy this.
Like this piece? Subscribe to our newsletter for real stories about women on their journey to motherhood.