I will breastfeed, no matter what!” This was my commitment before my son was born, not realizing how lightly I made this decision. It seemed like a no-brainer; breastfeeding costs nothing and it provides numerous health benefits for both mother and child. Why would anyone choose not to do it? Yet many people don’t. The Philippines’ exclusive breastfeeding rate is at 34 percent and the early initiation of breastfeeding is only at 57 percent. In my early days of research, we were tasked to find out why most Filipino women opt for milk formula despite its economic disadvantages. Our team back then was focused on the pressures from family members, particularly the grandmothers who worry that their grandchildren aren’t getting properly fed who then rush the mothers to adopt baby formula instead. Many years later, with the experience of having my own newborn, I finally understood what researcher-me failed to grasp: people don’t breastfeed because it hurts.
I felt betrayed by the sisterhood of mothers, who have somehow left out the fact that breastfeeding can be excruciatingly painful. Movies and TV shows have adequately warned me about morning sickness, the aches of pregnancy, and the pains of labor. When it comes to breastfeeding, however, they seemed to show such scenes with a soft focus lighting, with mothers’ serene faces, smiling lovingly down at their babies as they gently suckle on the breast. No, it is definitely not a gentle suckle. It is more likely a combination of bites, pinches, and tugs. The poor traumatized nipple is left cracked and bleeding. The torture then repeats itself every two hours, sometimes more frequently.
Mark my words, the early days of breastfeeding is more like World Wrestling Entertainment rather than a Hallmark movie. You and your baby are struggling to find just the right latch. Will the cross-cradle hold do the trick? How about the more challenging football hold? In between wrestling matches, you attempt to soothe your shell-shocked nipples with all the creams you can get ahold of.
Lactation consultants like to say that breastfeeding, when done right, shouldn’t hurt. Hearing this refrain over and over from well-meaning individuals only made me feel worse. If this is true, then I’m not doing it right. This pain is my fault. If my baby’s latch is already “perfect” and it still hurts, then I’m the imperfect one who couldn’t handle the discomfort of a simple feed. The growing insecurity and the strong pressure to breastfeed exclusively made the task even more impossible. I started to get scared of my baby when he started smacking his lips together, indicating that he was hungry. I heard the theme song from the movie “Jaws” in my head as my partner approached me, crying baby in hand.
At one point, I found myself without other options as both of my breasts closed for business due to bleeding. I cried in self-pity as I imagined the worst: that my baby will starve, and it will all be my fault. I so badly wanted someone to tell me that switching to formula is okay, but I couldn’t even tell that to myself. I thought that to give up on breastfeeding is to give up on my son. In desperation and in tears, I asked my pediatrician for a prescription for pasteurized human milk. She also told me that it was okay to use baby formula if I really had to and prescribed me an organic brand. Holding on to the prescriptions alone gave me huge relief. I also had friends who shared that they also found breastfeeding painful, in contrast to what lactation consultants were saying. With the pressure eased and my pain normalized, I found myself able to breastfeed again.
The reality, though, is that both alternatives are prohibitively expensive. Human milk is hard to come by, and the milk bank could only give small amounts, needing to reserve their supply for more urgent cases like newborns in intensive care. High quality formula would also put a serious dent in one’s budget. Many times, my partner would ask me if it is time to use “the milk” and I would always say no, aware of how much it costs and afraid to have none left during an emergency. Only after the pain was dealt with did the economic factor finally come into play.
I write this, having gone over the hump of the early days of breastfeeding. I can now say that it does get better, or at least you’ll get used to it. My friends warn me of rough waves ahead (hint: teething) but for now I can enjoy my baby as he feeds. (I also write this with the help of a dictation tool, as I have not yet mastered the art of typing while breastfeeding.)
If you can breastfeed, do it. If not, it is also okay. There is a camp that says “breast is best” while the other side says “fed is best.” I say, your best is the best.
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aatuazon@up.edu.ph