The online world is a funny place. We often hear about the trolling, the awful things people say and do to each other under the cover of anonymity in the virtual world. But then, for every mean asshole out there, it seems there is at least one fairytale, beautiful human waiting to pop into your life.
Enter Regine. I mean look at her. If I met her in real life tomorrow I would likely collapse from a stroke due to divine and magic exposure. She’s not just gorgeous. She’s ethereal. Fascinating. And she likes me (yay me!). We know little about each other, except for our shared experience as breastfeeding mothers. And based on that alone, we could be BFFs. Like me, Regine is tired of the struggles of nursing being swept under the rug. Tired of the sanitized stories we get of how easy, natural and uncomplicated breastfeeding should be.
I asked Regine if she would be comfortable with sharing her story on Mother in Progress; I had to. She embodies the sacrifice and selflessness of mothers. Their tenacity and their resilience; and the inevitable fallout that sometimes cripples mothers, but the world takes for granted, barely acknowledges. Regine’s story is a brutal reminder of just how far a mother is willing to go for her child.
Regine lives in Arizona, USA. I knew her experience was going to be inherently different than mine here in Canada. Without getting too political (whatever), it’s fair to say that the current status of postpartum support in the United States is dysmal compared to other developed nations.
Her experience also reinforces a widely held misconception about breastfeeding: that it comes naturally and effortlessly. “I truly just believed it was like pregnancy and your body and baby just knew exactly what to do and how to do it. You just put the baby on your boob and voila! Everyone is happy and you can start and stop whenever and however.” We know by now that this is not the case; in fact, it rarely ever is. Over 34% of infants are exclusively breastfed in their first five months of life in the United States, yet, by 12 months, only 8.7% are still receiving breastmilk (Source: UNICEF and WHO)
Though there are numerous reasons for the cessation of breastfeeding (socio-economic status, medical complications, mental health, etc.), a vast majority of them could be solved with facilitated access to support and resources immediately after birth. Regine could certainly have used the help. A lactation consultant who was in the delivery room when Regine gave birth, told her “‘your [Regine’s] nipples are all wrong. That baby is going to turn them into raw meat’, as she casually strolled out never to be seen again like a cruel super villain”.
Imagine having just pushed a baby out of your vagina. You are overwhelmed by every emotion known to humanity; you are exhausted. Most likely, you are in severe pain or, at the very least, extremely uncomfortable. You reach for your baby for the first time, while listening to some tactless, useless excuse of a person tell you that you are somehow made “wrong” to feed your newborn. If someone had said that to me, I might be in jail by now. Probably. Definitely.
Luckily, Regine was more practical in moving on from this encounter. “I hired a private lactation consultant not covered by any insurance when I got home [from hospital] because I was desperate and scared and so tired. I felt like my baby was nursing non-stop and I was certain she wasn’t getting enough milk. This angel of an IBCLC explained cluster feeding to me and its importance to establish milk supply. With more knowledge I was able to realize it was temporary and I kept it up. After the first month, it got better”.
Right off the bat, she was at a disadvantage. An information gap as simple as what is cluster feeding, compounded by the unsupportive medical setting in giving birth, and Regine was feeling behind. These issues are not complicated and can be, SHOULD BE, easily addressed. Thankfully, my friend did not waste time in seeking out the help she needed and in spite of being sleep deprived and in pain, she was proactive in taking steps (at her own expense) to bridge the knowledge gap and get back on track. Regine admits that breastfeeding was largely unknown, undiscussed territory for her. “My mom nursed my brothers and I for six months, and everyone I knew never really discussed their journeys openly. But I cannot recall anyone telling me about nursing beyond six months so I just assumed that was the norm and anything beyond that was some sort of unhealthy Freudian/Munchausen obsession”.
The problem when people don’t talk about complex matters such as breastfeeding is that silence generates misinformation. We become attached to ideals and goals that are fabricated, rooted in fear and insecurity, particularly when it comes to sensitive topics like feeding our babies. In the age of Google, information without context is a dangerous proposition, particularly when it comes to medicine and health. Mothers are expected to stay informed and ask questions, but these are seldom answered properly by health officials and if we are left to our own devices, it can have serious repercussions on how we think we need to perform.
The deafening silence around breastfeeding, its implications and overall progression, even in general terms, became increasingly problematic, leading to complications Regine could never have anticipated. She tells me that, for starters, she didn’t even know for how long she was “supposed to” breastfeed.
“I think I actually became obsessed with the notion to prove everyone wrong and go beyond six months, and show them it’s possible and it’s normal. I had this notion of being the perfect mom and up until that point I had felt like I was nailing it. I had set this unrealistic expectation for myself that I HAD TO MAKE IT BEYOND and if not, I was some kind of failure and my daughter would hate me forever”.
Unfortunately, the path to her goal became ridden with unexpected challenges. Because babies will do whatever the fuck they want. At the 6-month mark, her baby girl went on a nursing strike, which is when, just as sudden as it is mysterious, babies stop breastfeeding. Point blank. Often without any discernible cause, which makes it ever so frustrating to resolve the situation. For Regine, baby girl was getting constantly distracted by the world around her, inciting letdowns at the breast, but without completing her feeds. This is problematic because the mother’s body interprets these signals as a slowdown in feedings and will subsequently diminish its milk production. It is strenuous and extremely stressful for mothers to keep their milk supply up, to ensure babies are getting all the feeds they need. To counter the baby’s distractions, Regine started breastfeeding her in a dark room, with a sound machine on to mask all potential distractions. When you are feeling down about your mothering skills (because they are so tightly woven into your nursing performance), on top of negotiating the hormonal maelstrom of a dropping breastmilk supply, forcing yourself into a brooding environment such as the one needed to feed her baby might just be the straw that breaks the camel’s back. Your emotional landscape becomes fertile ground for those seeds of self-doubt and fear to sprout.
Regine felt trapped by the breastfeeding, power pumping and round the clock “nursing watch”. Before she knew it, postpartum depression and anxiety were at her doorstep. “I was working so hard to rebound my supply/keep her fed that my anxiety was off the charts. I have never had trouble sleeping in my life and suddenly I couldn’t sleep at night even when the baby was out like a light. My body was physically exhausted everyday but my mind just refused to chill out and shut down. I knew it wasn’t normal. I told my mom and my partner something didn’t feel right”.
Ever the proactive warrior, Regine went on the offensive to salvage her mental health. “I am a firm believer in antidepressants, and getting help for mental health. I had success with SSRIs [class of antidepressant medication] before pregnancy and baby so I was actually very relieved to begin treatment”.
But she was hit with a major roadblock. “The meds that are considered safe [for breastfeeding] and have the most studies in the States did not react well with me. Not minor effects, major reactions. I was desperate to get back to what I had taken pre-pregnancy and when I was told it could have adverse reactions to a nursing infant, I knew I couldn’t do it”.
This moment right here is where many women would have thrown in the towel and called it quits on their breastfeeding journey; and understandably so. Depression and anxiety are terrifying giant trolls to contend with, and I, for one, would have likely stopped nursing if I was not able to take safe medication. But Regine is not me. “I began looking up cognitive behavioral therapy, breath work, meditation, acupuncture, and exercise as alternative methods to help manage the PPA and PPD. I was shocked at how much it helped so I just kept plugging away at nursing”. I ask her if she ever even stopped to consider weaning her baby so she could take proper meds.
“I did [think about stopping]…. all of the time and sometimes, I would come really close. But I knew that if I stopped I would feel guilty for a very long time afterwards and I would be mad at myself for not pushing through. I wanted to give my daughter the best, I want her to be the healthiest, happiest girl and I felt like I could do that by breastfeeding. For some reason I felt like I would be a huge failure if I didn’t do it for the year like I set out to”.
It’s no news to anyone by now that women face enormous pressure to continue nursing their babies, even when it comes at great cost to their own health. We internalize that pressure in ways we don’t even realize until much later, after our breastfeeding journey is over. Thankfully, our story’s hero was remarkably self-aware. It is truly impressive, especially considering she was battling to preserve her mental health, unmedicated.
“I woke up one day and told myself I would be at peace if she went on another strike; or, if my supply took a big dip we would both be okay stopping. I had come to terms that I had and have given her my absolute all, and I don’t need to keep pushing myself to the breaking point”.
“Every night, after her last feed, I’d thank my body and my mind for continuing another day. I started to give myself grace if I didn’t love every [nursing] session. I was very fortunate in that my partner and family were supportive and would welcome my rants and frustrations. It truly just got better and easier over time, as cliché as it sounds. I tried to take it day by day. Some days I loved when she would sigh mid-feed and rub her sleepy eye while her nose was pressed up against me. Others I couldn’t wait to put her down and move on. I decided to just ride those waves and accepted that this is my season right now, and it won’t be this season forever”.
Words of wisdom that many women can relate to. Resilience and determination are powerful driving forces for a mother, but the ability to grant yourself the space for forgiveness; to be able to take a moment, step back and realize that you are enough, that is an incredible act of strength and humanity. To recognise that you are doing all you can. And especially, that you don’t have to enjoy every second of it. And that’s ok. In spite of what the world tells you it should be.
To me, Regine’s breastfeeding journey is an act of resistance, and a revolutionary one, at that. No matter what got thrown at her, she persevered. She asked questions. She stood up. She researched and kept moving forward. She found a way. On her own terms, without compromise. She has been able to weave her own path over and under the droning of what a mother “should do” and what breastfeeding “should be, needs to be”. It was hard, excruciating, for her to get to that point; but she did it. Because she thought her baby deserved just that: so that’s what Mama needed to do. You can agree or disagree with Regine’s choices. Certainly the pressure she felt, like so many of us do, is unfair and unnecessary. But she kept going, driven by the love for her daughter. Because that’s the strength of a mother. Making it work, against all odds, for your baby.
