I remember seeing a video in which a freshly-born baby was placed directly on its mothers stomach. With no drugs in its system, the baby was alert and calm. We watched, fascinated, as this baby, all on its own with no adult hands offering assistance, inched and scooted its way toward its mothers breast, found her nipple, latched on, and began to suck. I was in awe! This became my goal. I would give birth, my baby would nurse, we would bond. Bliss.

Well, it didn’t turn out exactly as I’d planned. I had read quite a few stories that had prepared me for birth, but I hadn’t read anything about breastfeeding. So nothing had prepared me for a baby who refused to even latch on for almost six grueling weeks; an otherwise happy baby who would scream whenever she faced my nipple head-on.

A Rough Start

From the very beginning, our daughter was completely uninterested in nursing. Every few hours for two days the nurses tried to bring breast and baby together, but my flat nipples made it difficult for Emily to latch on. Without nourishment she remained sleepy, which weakened her already feeble instinct to suck. The nurses gave me a breast pump to use but we saw no visible colostrum. I tried to remain optimistic. I assumed that once my body started to make more milk, Emily would show an interest. Besides, I thought, what baby of mine would not share my insatiable passion for food? But when we left the hospital, Emily still had not latched on.

Once home, I became increasingly concerned and frustrated about my inability to feed our daughter. By midnight, we were so distraught that we called a La Leche League leader, but we had already tried her suggestions. After that long night, we called a lactation consultant, who visited us almost immediately. She was very encouraging, but no matter what position we tried, Emily still refused to latch on. I alternated between feeling determined and despondent. While I pumped my incipient milk, my husband tried feeding Emily, first with an eye dropper and later through tubing attached to his thumb; having read all about "nipple confusion," we were trying to avoid giving Emily a bottle.

The next day, we took Emily to see our family doctor. "Your baby is slightly dehydrated," she told us, pointing to traces of "brick dust" urine in her diaper. "She needs more milk." Disappointed and worried, we bought some soy based formula to supplement my milk. "She's going to be ok," my husband reassured me, while I cried on the way home.

Things get Worse

But things got worse before they got better. I continued to pump while Mark tried coaxing Emily into taking formula from the eye dropper and tubing. Despite our determined efforts, she seemed even sleepier and less interested in eating than before. By the next morning she only wanted to sleep. We jostled her. We applied a cool wash cloth to her face. We tried pleading and reasoning with her: "The whole world sucks," my husband joked, "Get with the program!" Nothing roused her.

Despondent and with both of us now in tears, we returned to the doctor. "Our baby won't eat!" we cried. She told us the obvious - Emily needed food. If we didn't get more fluids into her she could end up in the hospital. At that moment "nipple confusion," as well as nursing, became trivial.

Avoiding Dehydration

For the next 24 hours, my husband and mother took turns bottle-feeding her while I tried to pump as much of my own milk as I could. We kept detailed records of how much and how often she ate, wet, and pooped. Every additional ounce she consumed was another milestone and each empty bottle was held up like a trophy. By the next day not only was she eating with enthusiasm, but she was less sleepy and her color had changed. We had not realized how jaundiced she was until she suddenly pinked up! Still, we continued to keep detailed records of her input and output for another week, afraid to trust her now healthy appetite. It was not until a public health nurse weighed Emily a week later, registering a substantial weight gain, that we weaned ourselves off of such detailed record keeping.

One More Hurdle to Overcome

But getting Emily to eat was only half of the problem. She still wasn't nursing and breast milk formed only part of her diet. Who knew that it would take four more weeks before she would latch on! Working closely and frequently with our lactation consultant, we tried various positions and Emily and I spent afternoons lying in bed together, skin to skin. We tried using a cup and, of course, I kept offering her the real thing. Occasionally I tried to nurse Emily with a nipple shield, but it had a tendency to curl back over itself and fall off. Nothing worked. She was a happy, alert baby who got upset only when being pushed against my now milk-laden breasts. I felt sad, rejected and frustrated.

Unlike my mother and grandmother who used formula, I desperately wanted to nurse. And with a history of allergies and asthma, I wanted to do everything possible to keep Emily from following in my footsteps. In my bleakest moments, I told myself if I could just maintain the discipline to pump until Emily was three months old, I would be satisfied. At least she would be getting breast milk's nutritional benefits.

Feeding Emily gradually became routine. We weren't delighted with our arrangement, but at least it became predictable. During the night either Mark or my mother would feed her while I pumped; breast milk now made up over one half of her food, though I felt like a cow permanently attached to a milking machine. Between Emily’s third and fourth weeks, I even stopped trying to nurse all together, needing a respite from the stress and frustration.

Signs of Progress

Gradually, however, I tried the nipple shield more often, maybe once a day. Sometimes it didn't work at all, but occasionally it did, with Emily in the football hold atop two pillows, and she would get a small amount fresh from the spigot.

I remember the first time Emily took a whole feeding from my breast. We were running some errands when she got fussy. We returned to the car and sat in the back seat, with Emily in the football hold, lying on top of the diaper bag. Using the nipple shield, she nursed for 20 minutes, swallow after beautiful swallow. I beamed!

I began to feel hopeful. Over time we became more successful, though not consistently. I began to remove the shield after Emily nursed, offering her my breast directly. More often than not she cried and refused it, but occasionally she latched on. Still, she seemed unable to draw the nipple into her mouth. I remember going into a coffee shop one day and seeing a woman walk around, holding her nursing baby in one arm. I was amazed that someone could nurse a baby without a minimum of three pillows and two sets of hands. Would that ever be us?

A Nursing Baby

To this day I don't know what changed. All of a sudden, Emily was nursing! It was as if after 5 ½ weeks, she just decided, "Hey, I can do this!" and the nipple shield became unnecessary. I was overjoyed! But it took a while to feel confident and secure. Every evening my husband would make enough formula to last through the next day. Each day he threw out more and prepared less. Eventually I felt secure just having a container of formula in the cupboard. It remained unused. And ultimately, we returned the electric pump. Gradually I could nurse her in the cradle hold or lying down, and later I no longer needed pillows or assistance. Eventually I was even able to nurse her in public, discreetly - and I did so everywhere! (But no, I could never hold her in one arm and walk around while nursing.) And I’ll never forget the miracle of waking up one night to discover that Emily had latched on by herself and was nursing in her sleep, cheeks gently puckering and releasing.

I wish I knew what our trick was, but I don’t. I do know that the emotional and physical support I received from my husband and mother were invaluable. Night time feedings, for example, would have been impossible without them. In addition, without the support and encouragement from our lactation consultant I surely would have given up. I also know that I was determined beyond belief.

Lessons Learned

Getting Emily to nurse was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It was exhausting, draining, and initially, devastating. But those first few weeks set the stage for my journey into motherhood and taught me valuable lessons about love, commitment, endurance, flexibility, expectations, and lack of predictability in parenthood. And because nursing was so hard to get started, I never took it for granted. Every latch on seemed miraculous.

Emily went on to nurse far longer than I had ever imagined. Although years earlier I had once vowed that I would never nurse a child old enough to ask for it in words, I could find no reason to force her to wean from something we both dearly loved. Because despite her initial resistance, nursing came to be the center of her world. It became her pacifier, her anchor, her lifeline. She nursed not only when she was hungry, but also when she was hurt, tired, frustrated or cranky. And she nursed for the pure joy and delight it gave her to be enveloped by my body, to feel my skin against hers. This same child who had vehemently refused my breasts went on to chant mantras in their honor.

Ultimately, I nursed Emily until she was a few months past her third birthday and I nursed my second daughter, Rachel, two months shy of this. This daughter taught me a different set of lessons. It took us only a couple of days to work out the kinks and nursing began without great fanfare. To my great surprise, though, I discovered that nursing was not the answer to her every need. After the first few months, for example, she did not want to be nursed into naps. She would get angry and turn her head away. Instead I had to wear her in a sling and walk with her. I came to realize that she liked to suckle but not necessarily swallow milk. I found myself using a pacifier, something I never thought I would use. As redundant as it seemed, she would sometimes fall asleep with her head in the crook of my arm, her face near my breast, a pacifier securely in her mouth.

Rachel’s style of nursing was never one of calm contentment. She rarely lay still and relaxed. While Emily gently caressed my breast, Rachel kneaded it. Instead of nursing contentedly at one breast forever, she went back and forth, flip-flopping over my body, constantly, like a self-propelled pancake. Rachel helped me understand why some women shy away from nursing in public places. She was constantly distracted, popping on and off my nipple leaving me exposed and frustrated. For about six months, I found myself seeking out private places as I had never done with Emily.

Rachel rarely nursed with the same passion Emily had. She helped me to better understand that each nursing relationship is unique and that there is no single or correct way to nurse a child. And she helped me realize that our children’s personalities are there from day one.

Nursing my two children taught me valuable lessons and I came to understand that it wasn’t simply about the milk; it was about the relationship we built around it; it wasn’t simply the product, it was the process. And this directly leads to how I came to write The Breastfeeding Café: Mothers Share the Joys, Challenges and Secrets of Breastfeeding.   Click here to continue.

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