Tavia Smith and a healthy and happy Baby Ellie.

By Tavia Green Smith
Guest Post

Everything was supposed to go perfect.

I was supposed to have an easy induction and progressive labor. Then, I would show my strength as I pushed my baby out, with my husband looking on proudly and cheering me on. I’d hear her beautiful first cry and I’d cry from joy and relief.

Then, I’d cuddle and nestle her in my arms and breastfeed her with that magical milk made just for her. My perfect daughter and I would bond and fall in love as I healed.

None. Of. That. Happened.

Life is not like it is in the movies. I learned that quick child birth can be more like a horror story at times.

I won’t take you through the long, traumatic story, but I’ll sum it up in two sentences: I was in labor for 30 hours, had a C-Section, and almost died as my body swelled and fluid filled my lungs. I couldn’t walk, hold my baby, or change her diaper.

And I was not able to breastfeed at all.

But, boy did I try. Because I am a good mom and good moms can feed their babies like God intended, right?

Wrong. We all know breast is definitely best, but sometimes it’s not an option. It doesn’t make a mom weak or inadequate if she does not breastfeed for whatever reason, but it is something many moms grieve.

I was one of them.

As I lay in the hospital bed, hooked up to oxygen, with a catheter draining my body and in so much pain from the C-Section, a lactation nurse visited me each day.

On Day Four, she tapped out, as I totally lost my crap and me and my baby had a Level 10 meltdown.

For days, I hooked up to the breast pump a couple of times a day and let the suction do its work. It hurt me personally, but I pushed through. Suck. Ow. Suck. Ow. Suck. Ow.

My mom urged me to turn it up, turn it down, let the baby latch even if nothing comes out, put her on your chest, etc. My mom breastfed all three of her children, my mother-in-law breastfed all six of hers and everyone told me I could do it if I just got through the initial pain and kept trying.

Just a few minutes old, Baby Ellie sees her mommy for the first time.

I was quietly frustrated. I knew my chances were slim, but I had my breastfeeding cheerleaders telling me I could do it, so I kept trying. I held onto the big “maybe” in the back of my mind.

The facts were this: I had a muuuuch needed breast reduction surgery four years ago. Let’s just say, I was really blessed and my bra size was in the doubles and halfway through the alphabet. After a personal injury and a sustained back injury, I had to get the breast reduction surgery to be able to walk. I knew there was a possibility it could take away my ability to ever suckle a baby.

At that time, children were not in the picture. Even after finding out about our little miracle, surprise baby, I somehow held out hope that [breastfeeding] was a possibility. I had friends who had the surgery and produced milk.

So I went through it all. I did the one-on-one sessions with the lactation nurse, sometimes twice a day. They were nice but persistent during my stay in the hospital. I needed the oil and nipple shields and I held my baby in the football position and tried to get her to latch.

She wouldn’t latch.

On the fourth day, she latched onto my empty boob. This little sweetie clamped down and I thought she took it off. I yelled.

“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow. OWWWWW!!! Can you GET HER OFF, PLEASE!”

The nurse rushed to help me unlatch her. The whole ordeal sent my little sweetie into a conniption.

Her cry, the feeling of utter failure, and just the entire ordeal set off the meltdown. I cried. I cried so hard, clutching my baby in my arms. I wailed and shook and just lost my crap.

I felt like a horrible mom on Day 4. I could not do anything for my baby, not even what my body was made to do—feed her. I held the baby close, tears falling on her face. She cried back in my face.

The nurse stood near, quiet, not knowing what to say and then she said the words that really broke me.

“It’s ok. Not everyone can breast feed. I think your surgery damaged your milk ducts and you just may not be able to do it.”

I grieved it for a long time and felt so much guilt initially.

Honestly, trying to breastfeed in the hospital totally broke my spirit.

Each bottle of formula my daughter ate those first few days made me feel so bad. When I got home, I tried to get her to latch again (although I still had no milk). If my daughter could talk, she would’ve said, “Move!…Ain’t nobody got time for this. GET ME MY BOTTLE!”

So with that last try, I let it go.

I literally, never got milk. My right boob leaked like 10 drops of colostrum and that was that. I gave all my pumps, breast pads, and supplies away and begrudgingly realized that I’d be buying this extremely expensive soy formula for her for quite a while.

With that said, she ate. We bonded and not breast feeding her did not make me feel any less close to her. At five months old, she’s a happy, sweet girl who enjoys her bottles that her grandmas and dad feed her, she eats her organic fruits and oatmeal and she loves eating. We all love watching her and laughing.

I’m a full-time working mom. I would still have loved to have the experience [of breastfeeding] and I’d have been perfectly fine with sitting in a closet at work [pumping] the magic milk to give her. The fact that I didn’t and I won’t is something I’ve gradually gotten over.

Despite complications during labor and delivery, Tavia and Baby Ellie are happy and health today.

When I see other moms breastfeeding I still feel a little sadness at times, but I have to remember the blessings. She’s healthy, happy, and life is good.

Pregnancy and childbirth are not perfect. A lot of unexpected, heartbreaking, and painful things happen that we as women have no control over. We grieve so much and sometimes even have post-traumatic stress from all that happens and everything that is expected of us as new moms.

Let’s try and not put so many hard expectations on ourselves and not feel bad when we can’t do something. Moms, just remember the most important thing we can give our babies is LOVE and CARE.
Tavia Smith is the mom of 5-month-old, Ellie. She works full-time as a public information officer at a hospital. Tavia loves to write about life’s many experiences in a humorous, yet real light.