A Letter to Myself as a First-Time Breastfeeding Mom

Almost said breastfeeder but that doesn't sound right because I am not feeding myself...

Fellow NICU vets will recognize the vinyl loungers. I appreciated their ability to be wiped down with bleach.

Dear Emily, 

This is your 41 year old self writing a letter to your 33 year old self (same age as Christ, you martyr, you!) about the first time we tried to breastfeed. I am going to hit you with a five point essay for expediency, and because you are wicked good at the five point essay courtesy of your freshman English teacher Bernice Pollack. I promise this one is not about “Great Expectations,” or “Romeo and Juliet,” which you and I have rewritten to end with Romeo and Juliet starting a Cirque du Soleil show called Capuletto. Here is what I want to tell you based on what I know now: I am very sorry, you are very brave, and I am very proud of you. 

I am very sorry I was so hard on you about breastfeeding. Truly.  I held you to an impossibly high standard with little sympathy for circumstances beyond our control like delivering a baby 11 weeks early who spent 60 days in the NICU. You weren’t set up for success from the last push. It was too soon, you were woefully unprepared through no fault of your own, and you didn’t even get to directly nurse our girl until she was a month old. You had to pump. I yoked you to it and drove you hard. Every two hours. Every tea. Every supplement. Lots of consultants. No relenting. I am like that, you know it. We walk a fine line of determination that can lead to tremendous accomplishments or maddening zealousness. There was so much that was out of our control, and I felt like this was the one thing we could control. I made pumping the badge of a good mother and made you feel like you weren’t if you didn’t do it. I am so sorry. I often wonder what would have happened if you would have stopped sooner.

At the same time, part of me is glad you didn’t because we did learn so much. Like the guidance I recently gave to a new mother with a baby in the NICU. She asked about how often to pump. She was pumping every three hours but struggling with little sleep and asked if she should go to four to get more sleep. This is what I told her, “The best answer I can give you is to trust yourself. I know having a baby in the NICU is stressful and scary, so if pumping every three hours helps with that and helps you feel better, then keep doing that. On the other hand, if you know you would benefit from extra sleep by spacing out pumping to four hours, go with that. You can always adjust, there is no right way to do this, it’s about what’s right for you at the time.” I would not have been able to give that guidance if you didn’t have that experience. 

Bernice would cut in here and say “too flowery,” get on with it and make a good transition.  Also this first paragraph is too long and you had to cut it so now it doesn’t have the nice five paragraphs anymore…

In spite of me being on your tits about pumping, you were incredibly brave. You faced such a scary time with fortitude and a faith I didn’t know we had. It’s not that you weren’t scared, you were, but you knew you had to move forward. You are so brave and I don’t give us enough credit for it. When our girl was born your best friend

Melissa Cullens

said you are the grittiest person I know. Your friend Emily (not me, one of our other five friends named Emily, best name ever) gave you a bracelet that says fearless. Your baby was born 11 weeks earlier and faced tremendous odds. You spent 72 hours in the hospital trying to keep her in, another three days to recover, and then had to go home without your baby. You handed almost all of it, except for the pumping, over to a higher power, which we call God aka The Universe. In the scariest time of your life showed up at that hospital every day with a commitment to treat every person there with courtesy, respect, and when you could muster it, which in spite of the circumstances you did, smiles and laughs. I am pretty sure we were a warrior in another life. 

I am not sure if the apology is the most importantly in this five-point, or if it’s the fact that I am so proud of you. I know you, we are a Leo for crying out loud, and I am going with the proud angle. Most importantly, I am so proud of you for the way you navigated through that difficult time. Breastfeeding, or in this case, primarily pumping, was so hard. You stuck with it for 11 months until you said enough. I am proud of you for standing up to me and doing that. You know I wanted to make it to a year. You said enough. I listened and it has served us. I am proud of you for the mother you were then because it has shaped the mother you are now. 

In summary, I will repeat my sincere apology, emphasize what a brave bad-a$$ you were and still are, and end with pride. I am so sorry I was so hard on you about pumping. You handled all of it with a brave face in spite of the fear and the unknown. If I look back at our life, you have always been a very brave person. With our first breastfeeding journey, you were committed to making a valiant effort to breastfeed and you trusted yourself to stop. In doing so, you found your voice and helped me take down the dental floss highwire of expectation I set us on for so long. I am very proud of you. 

Love, 

Emily 

P.S. - print this out and put it on your nightstand. Or take a photo of it like you do with things you see you want to remember or books you want to read and it ends up in your photo scroll where you don’t remember it anyway.

Bosom buddies (had to), it’s been awhile. It’s been a busy month that kicked off with an incredible trip to the Dayton Rivera for the Erma Bombeck Writer’s Workshop. An amazing, uplifting event that reminded me that there are so many talented, funny people in the world and there is room for all of us.

Two other things I came across that I wanted to share that are germane to this discussion (SAT word, thanks again, Bernice):

This article about “natural birth” and how it creeped in to be held up as the ideal. The doctor’s name is Dr. Dick-Read, not making it up! I can’t find the article now - read it while enjoying my cheesecake in peace and quiet last night - when I do I will update and share.

This one from

Kathryn Barbash, PsyD

about how parents can be quitters too! Just like I quit pumping! :)