The Tits are Ready
By: Ella B G
Tags: Baby, Pnd, Milk Supply, Breastfeeding, Igt

Before I had my son, I hadn’t given formula feeding a second thought. Why would I bother when I’d be producing milk specifically designed for my baby? Moreover, I’m a passionate vegan, and buying something derived from cow’s milk didn’t fit with my beliefs. I removed my nipple piercing weeks in advance. I had a feeding drawer — still have a feeding drawer — full of breast pads, nipple cream and vitamin drops for breastfed babies. I also had a breast pump lent to me by my cousin and had bought a single baby bottle, excited about all the pumping and milk-storing I was going to do so that I could keep extra in the freezer. I attended a breastfeeding class, where we practiced different positions with dolls and were taught about the supply and demand nature of breastfeeding — the baby empties the breast, is full up, you make more milk, the baby empties the breast, is full up, you make more milk, the baby empties the breast, is full up, you make more milk, the baby empties the breast. It was good, but I couldn’t quite imagine my boobs as milk-machines somehow, and that made me uneasy. A few days before my son’s birth during a wakeful night, I went to the bathroom and tried to milk myself. Success! Beads of colostrum appeared when I squeezed. I excitedly messaged my best friend who told me: ‘The tits are ready.’

On 26th March 2019, River Mowbray Glendining Stanfield was born by elective caesarean — not the delivery I’d envisaged at the start of my pregnancy, but necessary due to medical reasons, and overall a really positive experience. I was shocked when I first saw him, but it didn’t take long for the trickle of love to explode into something indescribable. In the recovery room, I held him skin to skin, and he latched immediately without encouragement. I was stunned at how natural it felt. After a terrifying pregnancy where both his life and mine had been at risk, things were really looking up, and I couldn’t wait to hibernate with my new family. I stayed in hospital for two days and had midwife support with feeding. When I pumped on day two, I saw that the liquid I was producing had turned white, indicating my milk had come in, but the amount I harvested was just a few drops. The midwife with me remarked that it was strange, but told me not to worry, as it was early days yet. And I didn’t.

We left hospital in hindsight too early, but I was eager for the bliss of home. My regular midwife visited the morning after our first night back, and we told her how surprisingly easy we’d been finding things; that River seemed amazingly contented and that we were totally in love. ‘That’s because he’s got all he needs. You’re doing so well.’ But what felt like the second she’d left the building, things started to change. Over the next few days, if River wasn’t feeding or sleeping, he was screaming. Looking back I’m aghast that I didn’t put two and two together, but you’re in such a bizarre state after having a baby. Midwives came every day and assured me the constant feeding was normal. It was only on day five when they routinely weigh your baby — coincidentally my first Mother’s Day — that things started making sense. He had lost over twelve percent of his birth weight, a concerning amount, especially since he had only been 6lb 3oz to begin with. We were sent to the children’s hospital, where I pumped for literally hours, yielding about 15ml. And it finally hit me: I was starving my baby.

I was gutted to have to supplement River with formula, but to see my fractious, exquisite, frail little baby transform into a satisfied one — well, it had to be done. And while I hated my body for betraying us in this way, I made it my absolute mission for my lack of milk and the supplementation to be temporary. Only then could I begin to atone. I spent weeks hooked up to a pump trying to increase my supply. It was a constant cycle of making up bottles, breastfeeding swiftly followed by bottle feeding, sterilising and pumping, with no time to connect. I would pump and pump and stare at him, feeling sick to my stomach. I loved him irretrievably, but I felt like I had lost him. I’m ashamed to admit that, because I hadn’t lost him, but it was not logical, and I was not well. Every time I saw his face was like a dagger to my heart. I went on a drug called Domperidone that can help with low milk supply, but like the pumping, it just didn’t work. To ease my guilt about cow’s milk, we tried River with soya formula, but it made him constipated, which of course made me hate myself even more. At one point I managed to source some donor breast milk, but ultimately my boyfriend wasn’t willing to commit to that avenue long term, which I chose to respect. On my early search for donor milk, a woman offered to breastfeed River for me sometime, and while a beautiful and generous offer, the jealousy was too much to bear, and I was haunted by the image of another woman nurturing my baby in a way that I could not. From my research, I concluded that formula is a pretty close second to breastmilk. I knew that babies could thrive on formula, but it wasn’t about that… it was about knowing that I could not keep my baby alive.

Midwives came and went, often commending my determination to make more milk, and while supportive, not one said to me, ‘Some boobs just don’t work.’ I became obsessed with finding out the cause of my low milk supply. I had heard of Insufficient Glandular Tissue from my research early on, but didn’t feel my boobs had the classic IGT look about them, often descried as ‘tubular’, so had ruled it out. (Who wants tube-tits anyway, right!?) IGT is also rare, and rarely discussed in the pro-breastfeeding community due to fear of deterring women from breastfeeding who are struggling with low supply for a more common fixable reason (for example, a problem with the baby’s ability to remove milk or hormonal issues such as PCOS). Not much is known about IGT, but it is essentially a lack of milk-making tissue due to one’s breasts not having fully developed during puberty, and it can only be diagnosed by excluding all other potential causes of low supply. I begged my GP to do extensive hormonal tests so I could see if I had some underlying condition, and he reluctantly obliged (I think I scared him), but all the results came back as expected for a breastfeeding woman. It was then that I joined an IGT and low milk supply support group on Facebook, and started coming to terms with the fact that I do indeed have Insufficient Glandular Tissue. I quit pumping. Overcoming my denial (I recognise some physical characteristics of IGT now), was immensely freeing and the first step towards healing, though it was of course painful knowing for sure that I would never be able to exclusively breastfeed my baby when it was something I wanted so desperately. While people had been telling me to have faith in my body — well meaning though it was — I would actually have been wrong for doing so. I have been disabled since birth and am a real advocate of self-acceptance, but coming to terms with my faulty boobs has been one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and the only time I have ever truly wished for a different body. I was jealous of anyone with boobs who had any problem other than my own — as long as they could make milk. The tits were not ready. They never would be.

Wading through the fog and just as I was beginning to make out various shapes, River started rejecting his bottle. This really was a cruel twist of fate, and it got to the point that I was having to practically force feed him his formula. All he wanted to do was breastfeed, and though strangely flattering, he would still be hungry afterwards. I was tormented by intrusive thoughts — when I’d see other breastfeeding mums, I’d imagine handing River over and fading away, knowing he’d be so much happier with them. It was suggested by a number of people that the reason River had become so anti-bottle was having both available to him, and in a sense the obvious solution was to quit breastfeeding in the name of getting him fed. But I had an overwhelming instinct that River wasn’t ready to stop; that whatever he got from breastfeeding was a powerful part of his little life. Plus, how could I be sure that quitting would solve the problem? If he continued to reject the bottle and my milk dried up, we’d be left with nothing. There had to be another way. I visited my local breastfeeding support group (which was a lifeline to me in the early days), and there they showed me how to use a Supplemental Nursing System. An SNS is basically a bottle of milk with a fine tube that you put next to your nipple so that while the baby breastfeeds, he gets your milk and the supplement at the same time. This device turned out to be game changing for my whole family, and the colic that had plagued him his whole life stopped dead the day I replaced his bottles with the SNS at three months old. It was truly amazing, and I exclusively SNS’d for the next few months.

Some of the lactation consultants at the breastfeeding support group also confirmed River had a tongue-tie, which they suspected was why he struggled so much with his bottle. (Note: in my case, there was never any question of the tongue-tie being the reason for my low milk supply as River has always been very effective at milk-removal — the type of tie he had just made bottles particularly hard.) Although the SNS had been so good to us and a vital part of our healing journey, it was hard work, and River still wouldn’t drink from any sort of bottle or cup. I was at a point where I longed for a bit of flexibility, so after much deliberation, we decided to have his tongue-tie snipped. The procedure was horrible but quick. It took him a few weeks to get used to drinking in a new way, but sure enough it worked, and soon we were doing a mixture of breastfeeding, SNSing and bottle feeding, which made life so much easier.

River is now eight months old and the most joyous, expressive, alive little boy. People literally stop me in the street to tell me he’s the cutest baby they’ve ever seen… But that’s by the bye. Together, we are making up for lost time. We’re well into weaning, and his favourite is banana. He’s more than happy with his bottle now, drinking as much milk as ever, and I look forward to transitioning him to veganism when he’s ready. I still breastfeed on demand. River breastfeeds when peckish and for comfort and to sleep, and I really value that I can give him that gift. I value my milk too — I make the same amount as ever: about 30ml every few hours. Though I am rarely away from him, if we have a day apart, I will pump several times and have a bottle of milk to give him by the end of the day. It’s a great pleasure feeding it to him when we’re reunited. I’m learning about myself and learning to love my IGT boobs. I look in the mirror at my disabled body and my tits that don’t really work, and feel quite pleased. It does still hurt knowing my body alone couldn’t sustain my son — I got unlucky there — but I am oh so lucky in so many other ways, and I respect my body not just for giving me River, but because it is mine.