I'm going to start this by talking about how wonderful our midwife is. She really deserves her own PSA; she's honestly the best. We are so, so happy that she is the one who supported us through having our first baby and that she will also be the one to support us through our second. I reckon she deserves to win Lotto and to always have hot coffee and to never lose things down that annoying crack between the console and the driver's seat in the car.
Our midwifery system here in NZ is bloody amazing. Sometimes I think about all the people in the US who are having babies and the thought of birthing there truly gives me the hebe-jeebies. We are so lucky here. And midwives deserve to be paid way more. End of.
Anyway, when everything went kaput (or perhaps I should just say tits up, that would probably be more fitting) with feeding our first baby, she was so incredibly understanding and helpful. It was one of those times when you cry because someone is just being too dang nice and you can't deal with how nice they're being. I was so afraid that she'd be mad at me or force me to keep breastfeeding, or you know, some other far off form of light torture.
But of course she wasn't and she didn't. She was wonderful.
Her and our equally amazing student midwife came over to our house to dig me out of the trenches. They walked in the door, gave me a huge hug, and said, "of course you can formula feed! There's nothing wrong with that! Let's get started." So naturally, I cried an awful lot because it would have been easier if they'd just yelled at me or something.
And so they spent the afternoon showing us how to prepare formula and sterilize bottles and heat them just right. I honestly felt like we'd been saved, as dramatic as that sounds. Like two prophets in the form of Kiwi midwives walked into our door and saved our souls.
Breastfeeding just didn't work out the first time around and I think it was a big combination of things that led to this. For one, it didn't sink in with me that for a lot of people, it doesn't really come naturally at all. It's a skill that you and your babe have to learn together, and just like anything else it gets better with practice. Another factor was that mentally, I was an absolute mess. The shock of the transition to parenthood got us good and I wasn't prepared for the huge hormonal shifts that one experiences postpartum. I wasn't very good at reaching out and allowing myself some grace during this time. Thirdly, I found it so, so painful that I remember thinking that giving birth again would be easier. Perhaps I was being a bit dramatic once again, but see how all these things weigh up together? Lastly, I was also freaking out about breastfeeding in front of people. I'm very, very pro-boobs-anywhere, pro-feed-ya-babe-for-as-long-as-you-like, pro do all those things, but when it came to myself and finding the whole latching (yikes, that word triggers some feels) thing tricky and having a very screamy baby and it all just felt terrifying and like I'd never be able to just whip out a boob in front of anyone, let alone in a café.
So, where are we heading this time around?
In short, to a place of grace. To a place of going with the flow, to riding things out, to choosing what works for our family without fear of judgment.
Our midwife and I have been talking a lot lately about feeding the next baby. She literally said to me, "now, you can do whatever you want, you know! You have my full support either way. I will support you to breastfeed or I will support you to formula feed. I don't care either way. All I want is to avoid what happened last time - that you will get so distraught and afraid. We need to do what works for you."
*insert heart-eyed, filled with tears emojis here*
And with that, just because she was being so awfully nice again (horrible, right?), all the tears welled in my eyes and I had to very intensely focus on my toddler who was making her toy cat kiss my sandals so that I could avoid yet another full-on cry.
So we aren't too sure what will happen this time around. I absolutely want to give breastfeeding another try. And I'm definitely so lucky that I have heaps of friends now who have years of breastfeeding experience. They were nothing but understanding and supportive throughout our journey of formula feeding too, but I always felt guilty and like the odd one out with a bottle in my hand. I feel privileged to be comfortable enough to be able to call on their knowledge and wisdom and ears this time around.
With saying that we're giving it another go though, we also aren't going to let things get to the level of desperation and anguish that we felt last time. If it doesn't work out again, then that's that. I haven't failed as a mother. Our baby will still thrive. We will be okay. So perhaps we will formula feed or combination feed or who knows really. We will let ourselves be open to it.
It's funny, because when our first was a newborn, how you fed your baby felt like such a HUGE DEAL. Like it was everything. And I guess it was at the time, because that's what you spend so much of your time doing and trying to get right. But now, it's something that I barely even think about anymore, just because both options are so commonplace in our lives and normal. Boobs and bottles are both where it's at; pick your weapon of choice. I'm so grateful for this.
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