My daughter, “little L,” was born a healthy 8.8 pounds, exactly on her due date in late September, several years ago. Like most new moms, I had spent all 9 months studying up for my new job as a parent. And all the literature out there agreed that “Breast is Best!”.   I read and believed the unfounded claims that children who were exclusively BF had higher IQs, and were healthier than formula-fed babies. I read that I should NEVER, under any circumstances, feed my child formula. I decided to leave work and stay home for a solid 6  months to exclusively breastfeed. After all, the books and doctors made it sound so magical, easy, and most of all, crucial. I had no idea what I was in for.

My problems were not related to supply. My milk came in roughly 8 hours after she was born, and by the time I left the hospital, I had enough milk to feed a village. (Her growth stayed in the 90th percentile for that entire year.) My problems were depression, loneliness, and sleepless nights,  all stemming from the unbearable pain I had with breastfeeding. 

When I left the hospital, I had several blood blisters already on both nipples, and at home, my nipples became black and  blue and cracked. They were open sores that bled constantly. I went without a shirt for a month, basically becoming a shut-in because wearing a shirt was excruciating. I couldn’t even shower because of the pain. 

Feedings became hourly torture. (And by hourly, I mean every 30 minutes.) The book said to feed on demand, even if she wasn’t hungry because if she’s crying, I’d need to pacify her at my breast. I vividly remember being 2 weeks postpartum and getting set up to feed little L. I sat propped up on pillows on my bed, with a glass of water, some ice, and several sticks of gum. (I would cram a bunch of gum in my mouth before feeding so I’d have something to bite down on.) My husband stood across the room, dressed in his uniform, about to start his shift. I closed my eyes, bit down on my gum, and waited for the latch. When she took it, the pain was as if I had stuck my nipple in a pencil sharpener. A few seconds in, I noticed I had been drooling, and my face was wet with sweat and tears. I opened my eyes to my husband’s alarmed face, and he quickly called the doctor.

The doctor said I shouldn’t be having pain at all, and the books agreed. There should be no pain if little L was latching correctly. I watched videos and read articles about the correct latch, and became increasingly frustrated because I seemed to be doing everything correctly, but I was still suffering.

The pain went on for months and I became depressed and resentful. I felt so alone since I couldn’t get dressed and leave the house, and my husband was working long hours. It was just me, L, and my chronic pain. I became desperate enough to get dressed and go to a LLL meeting. Little L fell asleep in the car, so I brought her into the meeting, strapped in her seat. That was my first mistake. The woman chastised immediately me for not putting her in a sling or baby carrier and assumed that this was the root of my “problem”. (I hadn’t told them my problem yet, they just assumed I had a low supply). When I finally got a chance to discuss my pain issue, they all agreed I was “doing it wrong,” echoing my books and my doctor.

The top 3 reasons for stopping breastfeeding are difficulty with infant feeding at the breast (52%), breastfeeding pain (44%), and milk quantity (40%). 

I left the meeting in tears. I cried all the way home. I remember having to pull over in a parking lot to feed little L, and cried harder when I realized I had forgotten my gum. So I bit down on my sleeve. I had never experienced such despair and isolation before. At little L’s 3 months check-up, I decided not to mention my pain. I said everything was great and there were no problems. I was tired of being told I was doing this to myself. 

Sometime after that, at around the 3.5-month mark, I was setting myself up to feed early in the morning. Ice, water, pack of gum, pillows, and baby. I closed my eyes, bit down on my gum, and waited for the latch. I felt the latch, but miraculously, no pain. I looked down and saw little L peacefully nursing as if for the first time. It was like a pain switch was flipped off and suddenly, I was better. I watched her nurse with my eyes wide open and thought it was the most amazing, beautiful thing I had ever witnessed. 

I went on to exclusively breastfeed little L for 6 months. And continued to breastfeed until a week before her 2nd birthday. It became as natural and painless as breathing.