The Big Boob Cartel of Breastfeeding
By: Jesse Draper
Tags: Formula, Jesse Draper, Kids, Breastfeeding, Parenting

Jesse Draper and her Son Maverick

The Big Boob Cartel, that’s what my husband and I started calling it. It being the ‘breast is best’ guilt-ridden look on my face when another lactation consultant or self proclaimed breastfeeding expert comes into my hospital room. It being the breast-force-feeding mafia. That’s what it feels like to me after 3 kids and thousands of pro breastfeeding personalities and opinions. I’m not against breast feeding but I want to share another perspective with you. I’ve had 3 preemies, each came at least a month early. I guess I bake them in 8 months instead of 9. Each of my sons spent time in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) immediately following their birth. I never really got to keep my baby right after I had him is what it felt like to a freshly postpartum Mom.

Baby 1. They pushed a breast pump on me immediately. ‘Pump. Every 3 hours. You aren’t producing enough milk? Pump every 2 hours.’ So I diligently did and slept less than I pumped. I didn’t have a baby officially in my hands yet as he was in the NICU and I’d visit but he was being fed through a tube in a glass box so I couldn’t even really practice breastfeeding with him yet. There I was, pumping religiously without a baby. After a few days, when I finally could, they were expecting him to latch on despite the fact he still had a small feeding tube in the side of his tiny mouth. It felt like everyone was an expert on breastfeeding. When I finally could take him home, he’d already been consistently on formula and I was still barely producing anything. I had all the specialists, lactation consultants, nurses, even some who came to my house. I tried so hard but I just wasn’t producing enough milk to feed my child. At most, I was lucky to be getting him ¼ of what he needed. I remember walking in a daze into a legal office for a meeting with my husband and my son. My son was about 3 months old. Painted across my face was that newborn daze screaming that you haven’t slept in weeks, barely functioning and going through the motions like a zombie. We were there setting up guardianship and our will. The receptionist saw my tired eyes and a new baby in our stroller and said ‘Aw! A Baby! Are you breastfeeding?’ Just like that. Straight out of the gate. I wasn’t even taken aback by this, I was so tired. I began trying to answer the question. ‘Well, sort of, he was in the NICU, so…it’s been hard….’ she interrupted my exhaustion orientated answer on the verge of tears with ‘Well, you aren’t drinking enough water! Drink more water.’ All of the sudden, I was really looking forward to the meeting with our lawyer on what may happen if we died. And my son was formula fed.

Baby 2. I was ready, there’s no way my second kid would end up in the NICU! I was planning on trying a new breast pump out. I had my second son. I got to sleep with him for a few hours in the hospital! Heaven. Suddenly, the nurse summoned our doctor who whispered to all the other nurses and then to my husband. All I heard after that was fuzzy, my vision went blurry from my tears, I screamed like a lioness when I realized my son was being taken from me, yet again. There is nothing more painful than having your child taken from you right after you’ve given birth even if in your right mind you know it’s for the health of your child. You are not logical in that state. It’s pure cavewoman. All of the sudden, I was alone. My husband was with the baby in the NICU because after watching the first season of ‘Jane the Virgin’ where her baby is stolen in the hospital, it’s become my greatest fear. We now have a ‘someone with the baby at all times’ rule. (I’m aware this is a ridiculous fear…but, is it?)I was digesting this information I’d just been given about my son not being able to breathe on his own. The next person to enter my room was the lactation specialist. She lectured me for far too long on how to self express and how important it was to pump. I tried to tell her that this was my second kid and I did have experience with this. I could barely speak through my tears and raging hormones from my child having just been taken. I started pumping. It wasn’t working. When I could visit the NICU this time, I was excited to try breast feeding with him in a new light. Second time around you know that there’s an actual chemical reaction that happens when your skin touches baby’s and that’s how you get your boobs going. Skin to skin is the key. It was going to work this time. I was so optimistic! I was excited! However, after trying and trying, I was still producing so little. The NICU feels to me like a magical baby safe haven with as many lactation specialists as can fit per square foot. The first one comes behind my little curtained off room. Grabs my boob. Tells me everything I’m doing wrong. Again, I can barely speak because discussing my breast feeding battle is such a loaded question and topic for me. ‘I’ve done this before. I don’t really want help right now but …thank you.’ My mother’s and grandmother’s manners lessons are drilled into me even in the most vulnerable of times. ‘Be kind, don’t forget to thank everyone.’ Finally we get her to leave so I can continue on my breastfeeding journey solo. Shift change in the NICU: Second lactation specialist comes in ‘Hi. How much milk are you producing?’ Grabs my boob, makes it flatter. I’m polite. She leaves. Next lactation specialist peeks her head in. I’m polite. Next one. I’m polite. Next one. I’m polite. Next one. I’m not. ‘It seems like you’re having a lot of trouble, you need to be pumping more.’ Aaaannnddd I’m not polite. I’m about to cut a B#?!H ! There is nothing comparable to the extreme emotions of a new hormonal mother when it comes to anything surrounding her child. My amazing husband started glancing around for any lactation specialists switching to offense and intercepting before they made it to my tent-like room. I overheard him once ‘She really doesn’t want help. This is our second kid. She’s really sensitive about this.’ Lactation specialist, let’s call her Cindy, said kindly ‘I’ll come back later.’ My amazing husband says ‘No.Don’t come back’. And my son was formula fed.

Baby 3. My husband goes, ‘So did you buy a new breast pump? We got rid of the old one.’

Me (not looking up): Nope.

Husband: Are you going to buy one?

Me: Nope.

My water breaks at 8 months again. No surprise there and yet, I am surprised every single time. After 2 vaginal births, an emergency c section was took my surprise to a new level! I’d been knocked out with general anesthesia via mask due to not having had an epidural yet and my doctor later told me that she hadn’t knocked someone out like that in 10 years. For those of you who haven’t had an emergency c section, it’s a decision made in minutes. All of the sudden you’re in ‘Gray’s Anatomy’ on an operating table and in my case, I was knocked unconscious in minutes as well, not quite knowing what happened when I woke up. By the time you get to the post partum room in the hospital, you’re still not aware of what’s going on. I was processing if I was pregnant or not, if I had a baby? Where was the baby? How did I have a baby if I don’t remember it? I was in a very fuzzy-brained shock. My first nurse comes in. She might have introduced herself earlier but my brain wasn’t working yet. She says ‘You seem really anxious, do you have a lot of anxiety in your regular life?’ My husband cracks up because as I have a fairly normal amount of anxiety in my daily life, I say ‘What?! I’m a CEO and a badass Mom, No! I did just have an emergency c section though and my baby is in the NICU so that may make me anxious?!’ I’m sort of in a fog about why this woman doesn’t understand what I just went through and the next person to come in the door is…wait for it…a lactation specialist. I look at this woman who has no idea what she just walked into and I restrain my hormonal self from biting her head off. Because I literally don’t have the strength or clarity to speak to her and explain, I hold up the palm of my hand in a ‘Halt!’ gesture and I just say ‘No. I respect your profession. But No.’

I do respect the lactation consultant profession but I also respect the people who decide not to breastfeed. I respect the people who adopt and cannot breastfeed. And I respect all the people who do not breastfeed for whatever the reason. There should be no stigma here. And then, there’s the category that I’m in: the people who try but cannot. Just like I respect the people who do decide to breastfeed. I encourage everyone to be thoughtful about the mothers and fathers with children who formula feed. We are also worthy of this respect. Yes, the CDC recommends ‘Breast is Best’, breastfeeeding is good for the mother as well as the baby and breastfeeding overall has numerous benefits. I also respect science and anatomy.

That said, not everyone can breastfeed. This is for a multitude of reasons from socioeconomic to health related situations, mastectomies and so many other reasons. In my case, I never had the choice. And I was so ashamed and shamed. Moms at baby group, as previously shared, even Mom receptionists I have never met. I always felt the need to defend that my kids were put on formula in the NICU by health care professionals. I never had the choice to solely breastfeed and I never had the proper bodily strength and operations to provide my sons enough breast milk to keep them alive. I still feel like I failed my children. I feel like an enormous maternal failure. When I think about my time in the NICU with each child, I’m haunted by a notecard on their wheelable window cribs that had each of my children’s name written in on a paper card that is sponsored by Medela. Medela, the breast pump company who’s literally advertising at birth and then at the top in larger writing it says ‘I’m a Breast Fed Boy!’ I mentioned this to one of our nurses this 3rd time around and she got him a new card which honestly made me cry because it was such a small thing that was shaming me without my even realizing it.

I wanted to breastfeed so badly but I never could. I tear up writing this. This time, I am breastfeeding when I can and he’s mostly on formula but I’m trying not to beat myself up about it. By the way, there are numerous benefits to formula feeding, one being that it promotes equality between partners and my fantastic husband can participate in the feeding just as much as I do. For those children who are lactose intolerant, there are lactose free formula options, for women who have mastectomy’s, for gay male couples, there are many options.

I still haven’t bought a new pump. To all the new mothers and father’s out there who feel ashamed that they can’t breastfeed or even just decide not to breastfeed. Don’t feel shame. Be proud. You just had an effing baby or created a family somehow! You are super human! Whatever you decide or frankly need to do to keep your child healthy and alive, is the right decision. Everyone’s decision is their own. There should be no pressure to go either way. Normalize formula feeding. Don’t feel shame or inadequacy.