As strange as it sounds, I had no idea how to feed my newborn. I couldn't figure out how to get my body parts to work as promised in the lactation class I took during pregnancy.
I was headed straight toward flunking that first big test of motherhood. You know, the one where a child's future health, cancer risk and IQ depend on the mom's mammary glands.
Overachiever that I am, I called in the experts. I hired a lactation consultant to help me figure out why my machinery was out of sync. I read an entire 300-page manual on nursing in the space of two days.
A dear friend saved me. She arrived at my home, watched my technique and gave me a pep talk. She told me not to give up.
I stuck with it and managed to nurse each of my babies for more than a year. But I couldn't understand why no one had told me the real skinny on breastfeeding: how difficult it can be.
Statistics from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention show that in 2004, 70 percent of mothers reported breastfeeding their infants; the numbers drop to 36 percent at six months and 18 percent at 12 months. No disrespect to the nursing advocates and La Leche League, but maybe more moms would stick with it if they were forewarned that things may not go as smoothly as planned.
Granted, in my case, everything that could have gone wrong, did. I'm glad I was able to nurse for as long as I did, and I wish other moms would, too. But there are a few things I wish I had known before I became an independent milk producer.
For something as seemingly natural and instinctive as feeding and eating, many moms and babies don't get it right away. It's hard enough to handle swollen, sore body parts you no longer recognize, but it's even harder when you've got a screaming, hungry baby in your lap. To make matters worse, certain circumstances, such as getting a C-section, can delay your milk from coming in for days.
I know some women who view formula as Satan's brew. But some babies legitimately need a bit of the other milk, and nursing should not be a zero-sum game. My lactation consultant advised me to divide an ounce or two of formula over the course of a day's nursing, which came out to a few dribbles after each feeding. It worked, and pretty soon, the baby didn't need it.
Nearly every mom will wonder if her child is getting enough milk. Unlike bottles, with their reassuring measurements and marked ounces, breastfeeding requires trusting your body -- a concept foreign to many of us. I took my child to the pediatrician's office in between appointments just to weigh her. To boost my milk supply, I rented a hospital-grade pump to fool my body into making more milk. I was completely convinced I would have to return my daughter to the hospital because I had been unable to keep her properly fed.
She survived. I barely did.
In the beginning, nursing hurts. You can get chapped and cracked and start to bleed. I hurt so badly that my hands would shake. The books say this only happens if you are doing it terribly wrong, but even when you do it right, you may get an infection.
Other things can go wrong, too, such as plugged milk ducts, which sound just as dreadful as they are. Many doctors are useless when it comes to helping in these cases. I called the trusty La Leche women, who know this territory. I ended up sterilizing a needle and doing a minor bit of self-surgery at home. Yes, it hurt.
And, for me, pumping was harder than nursing. The electric pumps sound like ancient farm equipment, which hit a little too close to home in this situation. My body refused to work under these conditions. A friend recommended a European manual hand pump, which worked better but also nearly gave me carpal tunnel syndrome.
I remember walking out of a small private office at work with a bottle of pumped milk in hand, and a male colleague looked at the bottle, then at me and said, "Did you just do that?"
It was as if I had been busted stealing from the supply cabinet.
Modesty changes during those months or years of nursing. These parts of your body become so de-sexualized that you forget how the rest of society views naked breasts.
But even when you've weaned the baby, don't get too excited. Things don't spring back to shape. They deflate for most women.
So, what would make a mama persevere in the face of any -- or all -- of these challenges? You get to sustain a life you helped create. Your baby instantly learns your smell. The milk nourishes her mind and body, while the love and trust feeds your soul. Eventually, both of you figure out the harmony of mealtime.
It seems like as soon as nursing becomes second nature, your child is ready to wean. That may be the last peaceful meal you'll share for some time.