World Breastfeeding Week: Mother Knows Best, Part 1

Michelle Appleby - 18 Aug 18

Part 1

During my pregnancy, I attended every antenatal class possible, read all the books and articles I could and spoke to all my friends with babies and kids. I wanted to be as well informed as possible about anything and everything baby related. I wanted to make my own decisions about what was best for me and my baby. When it came to feeding, I decided I wanted to give breastfeeding my best shot but I refused to put any pressure on myself and I promised I wouldn’t make myself miserable making it work.

Despite my best intentions, that’s not quite how it worked out. My eldest was (and is) best described as disinterested feeder. (He’s never been keen on eating. Still isn’t.) In those first days, he barely cried for a feed but I shoved my boob in his mouth every few hours regardless. However, he would often lie in my arms, mouth open, nipple hanging out, milk dribbling all over both of us, him nodding off and me confused.

At first, I was pretty relaxed about it: we were both learning, and he was drowsy and mucousy from the birth, I was told. I could’ve gone home the day he was born but I chose to stay and get expert advice and support on the main ward. I asked for help with every feed and in between. My supply was checked (ie. my boob was squeezed like they were milking a cow); the latch observed; different holds tried; and we tried EVERYTHING to keep him alert and awake. I was shown how to syringe formula into his mouth as a last resort. Nothing seemed to work, the staff were extremely busy, feeding wasn’t really progressing so I went home. I knew we needed help and I was hopeful that we’d have more luck with the community team.

A midwife came each day. And each day I told them the same story: he barely cries during the day, latches well, drinks for a few seconds and then passes out (just as in hospital). But now I had a new addition: he screams in the evenings, barely feeds and seems to fall asleep, hungry and exhausted from crying. Instinctively, I’d syringed formula as I had been shown in hospital. (At the time, I wasn’t sure if I was doing it to satisfy his hunger or my growing anxiety.) Again my supply, the latch, and our position were all checked and we passed with flying colours. The midwives told me repeatedly “baby takes what baby needs”, and seemed unconcerned. But as the early days went by, I had the niggling feeling that baby wasn’t taking what baby needed. And something definitely WASN’T right and was getting worse.

It turned out I was right. By day 5, he was so dehydrated, the midwife could barely get blood out his foot on to that paper with the circles for his blood tests. He had lost so much of his birth weight that he was readmitted to hospital and pumped with formula milk, 3 hourly. I cried as the midwife called to arrange his readmission. I was so sad that we couldn’t enjoy our first week as a family of three in our family home. But, more than that, I was more frustrated (maybe even furious?) that I had KNOWN something wasn’t quite right and no one believed me.

If they had trusted MY instincts (and if I’d trusted my own more too), hospital could’ve been easily avoided. We could’ve used more formula in those very early days to get us over the first hurdle of regaining his birth weight and so much stress and upset (and use of precious NHS resources) could’ve been avoided.

That was my first schooling that MOTHER KNOWS BEST.

*More Breastfeeding blogs, including Parts 2 and 3 of Mother Knows Best, on my wordpress blog.*

Michelle Appleby

I’m a mum, a wife, a teacher and, above all else, a human. A human who has struggled to feel “good enough” most of her life but is slowly getting it right for herself, writing about life’s lessons along the way. (I’m defjnitely NOT a blogger type, whatever they are: I just like writing therapeutically.) **all views are MY OWN and not affiliated with any organisation or professional body**

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