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Overcoming Adversity

by Jenn

Back in July 1997, I thought I had all the answers. I was due with my first child, knew it was a boy, knew I was going to have an unmedicated birth, knew he would room in and knew that I would "try" breastfeeding, since I knew it was the best food for baby.

Oh, I also "knew" since it was my first child, he would probably be born late, into August even.

So imagine my surprise on July 12, 1997, when I woke up with odd "gas cramps." It took a while for me to catch on that, 17 days before my due date, I was, in fact, in labor!

We stuck around at home for as long as we could stand it but, being our first, we went to the hospital probably earlier than we should -- DH was also worried that my water was going to break on the couch, so he made me sit on a towel, when I was sitting.

Problem #1: We were stuck with a fill-in doctor, since the doctors from my practice were either on vacation or just off a shift.

Problem #2: The birthing nurse was awful and belittled my thoughts of going unmedicated.

Problem #3: She mis-read my file and thought I was positive for Group B Strep, although I told her I hadn't even been tested, and I was forced to go on an IV and then not let out of bed -- and as long as the IV was in, they added some Pitocin. This was not a fun day.

Long story short, by the time I was dilated to 10 cm, I was running a high fever, the baby's heartrate was through the roof, the doctor was talking c-section and my 7 lb. 5 oz. son was finally born, with an assist from forceps. He had difficulty breathing and I was only able to hold him a short time before they took him to the special care nursery to be given oxygen.

Breastfeeding was out that night.

The next morning, I woke up to hear babies crying. Babies in the rooms adjacent, babies in the hallway, happy parents with babies -- and mine was not there. I just started crying. Where was my baby? Had I actually had one? The nurse came in and brought me down to special care, where I just held David's hand and cried some more. They hadn't fed him -- I'd made that clear -- but they had given him a pacifier, which he rejected.

All day, our families came to see the baby. Only one person at a time, besides my husband and I, could go in to see David. The nurses kept bringing up that he might be hungry. I said if he could be fed with a bottle, then he could be fed by his mother, and his mother only. Finally that afternoon, he was weaned off the oxygen and we could hold him.

He started rooting almost immediately and I couldn't try to nurse fast enough. I wasn't sure if he was getting anything and the nurses couldn't seem to be bothered. Finally, a nurse who had just come on took pity on me and talked me through it. David was fed! She promised to bring him to my room as soon as he was hungry again -- he still needed to stay on the monitors.

He got to visit only once. It was heaven to be able to hold him without all the wires for the monitors, to look at him without feeling like I was taking him away from the nurses. It just hadn't seemed like he was mine until that point. One of the nurses had suggested only feeding 5 minutes at a time, each side, but that seemed just wrong to me -- women on my pregnancy list had talked about hindmilk and foremilk and I was pretty sure he wasn't going to be getting any foremilk that way. So I nursed him for as long as he wanted on each side until he fell back asleep.

The next time the nurse came, she said I had to nurse back in special care. My son had had an "oxygen de-sat problem." In my bleary-eyed exhaustion, I didn't even think to ask for the translation that came later that morning from the pediatrician: David had periods where he would just stop breathing.

While the doctors figured that one out, David still needed to be fed. And I had to depend on the nurses to tell me when that was. There was no place for me to be in special care while David was asleep. More often than not, I'd be called to the nursery to find him in full-throttle scream -- clearly, he'd needed me sooner, but why hadn't they called? The nurse who was in charge of him that day was all for just giving him a bottle, but I refused. Later that night, I woke up and went to the nursery just in time to stop him from getting a bottle -- she thought I needed to rest.

Massachusetts has a "drive through delivery" law -- mothers can stay a minimum of two days for a vaginal delivery, four for a c-section. I was ready to go home, but David was not. The nurses seemed to think it was perfectly acceptable that I go home for at least the night, leaving David to be bottle-fed. I asked about a bed for me, but they didn't think one could be found.

It was at this point that my doctor, my real doctor, the one who thought he could take July 12 off because none of his patients were due, came to check on me. I jumped on him. How dare they not let me breastfeed my son? How dare the hospital not be more accommodating to parents who want to stay near their children? Why was everything going so horribly?

To his credit, he managed to get me a place to sleep within five minutes and he also gave a good talking-to to the nurses in special care about breastfeeding mothers.

I spent the next two days dragging a bag around the hospital, leaving only for showers and meals. DH kept me supplied with Motrin, maxipads, newspapers and Lasinoh. Breastfeeding was incredibly hard -- it took ages to get him nursing on one side and he'd be just as frustrated switching over to the other. It was annoying to have a child wired to equipment that would sound alarms if detached.

But finally, the verdict was in -- David had severe reflux. It was treatable with medication, and should be gone by six months. We were free to bring him home!

Even without the nurses at home, however, things just didn't seem to be going right. I had awful blisters, the baby slept for only 15 minutes without me, co-sleeping was impossible (reflux babies should never lie flat -- our sheets wet from spitup proved that), he wasn't gaining weight quickly -- I was living in hell. My husband wanted to switch to a bottle -- that way, at least, he could take a turn and I could get some rest. Our pediatrician, to his credit, urged me to keep breastfeeding.

I decided to give it another week.

People laugh when I say I spent the first three weeks of my son's life switching him from one breast to the other and sleeping sitting up. But that's what I did. After those three weeks, he finally started sleeping for at least two hours at a time. And he gained weight and finally started smiling, which made the prospect of seeing yet another sunrise more palatable.

David nursed for 15 months, and weaned himself. I went back to work at 3 months and pumped breastmilk twice a day. We had yet more drama when he didn't want to take a bottle -- David was stubborn. But I'd already proven I was MORE stubborn.

I should add a coda:

I wrote to the hospital, later, and told them what had happened to me. I reinforced it by talking to the nice lactation consultant in what was then a closet-sized Center for Breastfeeding Support. I stressed it even more when I wrote about the American Academy of Pediatrics' revised breastfeeding recommendations later that year for my newspaper.

Three years later, I went back to that same hospital to have my baby girl. I had the birth I wanted. I had the rooming-in I wanted. And I had nurses and lactation consultants popping in and out of my room with plenty of breastfeeding advice -- something I didn't need with a baby who latched on 10 minutes after birth without problems.

The Center for Breastfeeding Support is in a large, sunny room, with support groups for nursing mothers. And the hospital has an 80 percent rate of breastfeeding among its maternity patients. I spoke at a meeting for their lactation consultants during Breastfeeding Awareness Week and contrasted my two stays -- it was nice to see just how far things had come.

I can't claim that I'm responsible for any of it -- but I like to think I helped nudge them along.

MBCGuru's note: I'm sure Jenn did nudge them along and have an impact! Every time we, as breastfeeding mothers, stand up for our rights, it makes a difference, paving the way for breastfeeding mothers behind us. Jenn is an example for us all with her determination and perseverance in breastfeeding her son and with her follow-through with the hospital, lactation consultant and newspaper.

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