Before I gave birth to my son via C-section I attended one lonely breastfeeding class. It was free and yes, I learned a few things like how big a baby’s tummy is at birth and the difference between colostrum and what milk is like once it “comes in.” I asked questions and watched a little DVD in the dark about what breastfeeding is supposed to look like. But nowhere, anywhere did I learn a thing about all of the possible difficulties I might face once my little one nestled at my breast and began screaming for milk.
Really, how hard can it be? Baby + Boob = Milk. Duh!
So after being birthed up, spruced up, weighed up and sent off for a quick snuggle with Daddy my son was placed on my chest to nurse and he began scooting towards my breast like a champ. My heart immediately burst into a billion little glittery pieces and I felt so…..motherly.
Three days later he wasn’t gaining any weight.
He was approaching the dreaded 10% loss that the hospital staff incessantly reminded us about so that we would what….feed him formula? Well, after a bunch of charts and graphs and jaundice and talking to the staff pediatrician that said, “If it was my kid, I’d feed him formula,” I wailed and pounded on the sheets about not being able to nourish my child with my body like I was supposed to….and I gave in. His first bottle was taken with no problems which just confirmed for me that I had been starving him by trying to get this breastfeeding thing to work when my boobs were apparently broken....