Daisy Daisy

Daisy Daisy – my friend at university used to call me that, because she said I looked like the comedian Daisy Donovan and had similar facial expressions. As a care free 20 year old I had no idea that one day I’d be called that again, instead because I’d be milking myself several times a day.

I’d had no breastfeeding versus formula feeding ideals when I was pregnant. I felt quite relaxed about the whole feeding thing. As a formula fed baby myself I knew that it wasn’t this big evil devil food that it is made out to be – I had turned out OK! But I was quite open to giving breastfeeding a go, although I’d had a strict word with myself to never get stressed over it. I’d had so many friends who had been truly miserable during those first few weeks, battling with breastfeeding and an inconsolable baby. I was not going to be like that. I was not going to be stressing about milk production. Not me. No way. And then I had a premature baby.

Emma NICU

Less than an hour after my 29 weeker was born, having been resuscitated and rushed off to the neonatal unit, me laying on the theatre table amongst this aftermath of chaos, my poor sliced up womb now out on my belly being sewn back together, the neonatal sister burst in; ‘Michelle, were you planning to breastfeed? We need to know for the care plan.’ My husband and I just looked at each other in bewilderment, each looking to the other for the answer to the question. It was my husband that answered, ‘Erm, we think we were going to do a bit of both?’ I had no idea at that point the direction that my breastfeeding journey was heading, instead I had images of a tiny baby suckling at my breast the next day!

It starts with the hand expressing. I was shown this technique by about three different midwives until I was shown the correct technique. I managed to get my first lot of colostrum on the second night, 0.5ml if I remember rightly. I felt like a superstar. I still at that point, had no idea about the pump. I had signed the consent for donor milk, which you don’t even think twice about, because by this point you know how vital it is that your tiny baby has breast milk. It is only now I sit and think about the donor milk that I feel upset that my baby had another woman’s milk in her first few days of life. That was certainly not part of my ‘relaxed about feeding’ plan. I carried on with the hand expressing for two more days when the neonatal sister mentioned the pump. Because I was so tired from all the medication I was taking, as well as my three litre blood loss, she said she would show me the following day.

The following day we arrived to discover that Emma had moved from ITU to HDU. Although just two doors down it was like a different world. Different nurses, different babies, different noises and beeps. I felt immediately on edge, as we had just started to settle in to NICU life, and now our routine had changed. I should have felt elated really, Emma wasn’t sick enough for ITU! But now it was all different. I know now that the sullen and stressed nurse who showed me the pump was brand new herself. It was five minutes of ‘this is how this goes together, use this setting, turn it up as far as you can manage.’ And that was it. I just didn’t know better at the time, I really thought that was it, so I just got on with it. I will never ‘blame’ the nurse for it, but I really think that was one of the main reasons why I always struggled. My milk had ‘come in’ that day. I think I got about 10 or 20 mls. I was told that was brilliant, and so I just carried on. It was so painful that first few times, feeling my wounded insides contracting with every pump, I’d often be in tears in the express room.

Expressing every 3 hours, 8 times a day and during the night is really, really hard work. In the early days I didn’t really take notice of the amounts, I just expressed, almost in a robotic fashion. It wasn’t until I was out of that initial NICU ‘two week fog’ that I started to take notice of what I was actually doing, and also what everyone else was doing, and that’s when the ‘express stress’ began.

The stress starts when you notice the amounts other mums are getting, and then you compare it to your piddly amount in the bottom of the smallest pot. I saw mums with the super duper large pots full to the brim. I also noticed the freezer, jam packed full of milk from the other mums. Why wasn’t I getting these amounts? ‘Because you are anaemic. Are you eating enough? Are you drinking enough? Are you stressed?’ Of course I was stressed, I delivered my baby at 29 weeks, nearly lost her, and now we have to exist in this neonatal unit………Of course I was stressed, and not eating enough, and not drinking enough. I was also hugely jealous of my husband, who got much longer cuddles and much longer quality time with Emma, while I was always rushing off to the expressing room.

I started carrying a huge bottle of water around everywhere I went, eating flapjack like it was going out of fashion, smelling like curry due to my intake of fenugreek tablets, and turned the pump up as far as I could possibly manage. Bad move. Doing that results in horrendously cracked and painful nipples, and eventually, mastitis. This meant that when we started encouraging Emma to latch, it was eye wateringly painful for me. I looked at picture of her while expressing, I expressed by the incubator, I sniffed her blanket like I was told to, I ate a box of ‘lactation cookies’ sent to me by my lovely friend, but nothing worked.

breast feed

Twice a week we would get so excited for weigh day, but that excitement then always turned in to anxiety for me. Emma was doing so well, gaining weight like a trooper, but with every weigh day came an increase in milk requirements, meaning I needed to express more and more, and I was still struggling. My ‘personal best’ at this point was around 50mL, I was still on the small pot, and it was really upsetting me. My friends talked of a ‘let down’, of feeling full and empty, but I felt none of these things, and therefore I felt like I must have been doing something wrong.

We continued with the breastfeeding as well as the expressing. Emma did so well breastfeeding and I was starting to enjoy it, until she decided one day to stop breathing while feeding from me – enough to put a halt to the most successful of breast feeding journeys! I decided then to just concentrate on expressing what I could, and we introduced Emma to taking the expressed milk from a bottle. She took to it like a dream, and I managed to just about keep up with her milk requirements. I would still put her to the breast occasionally, and I loved it, but was petrified she would stop breathing again.

nicu

Once home, and having battled with mastitis twice, nearly resulting in an admission for intravenous antibiotics, I decided to stop expressing. At the time I was excited to stop and feel freedom from the pump, but once stopped I felt really sad. I missed seeing her latched on to me, her little face looking up to mine. But I knew that I couldn’t be ill again and look after her, especially now my husband was returning to work. She had breast milk exclusively for nearly 8 weeks, and although I was sad to stop, it is more than I ever imagined I would do when I was pregnant, and for that I’m pretty proud of myself.

This expressing and breastfeeding battle is one felt by many mums of premature babies. Your body isn’t expecting to start producing milk so soon, that’s the first battle. And then you don’t feel all those lovely baby hormones they tell you about, as you have very limited skin to skin time with your tiny baby, and they very rarely latch straight away, so you don’t get that natural increase in milk production. You are stressed, confused, bewildered, guilt ridden, tired, and terrified that your baby may not survive. Is it any wonder that so many have difficulties expressing?

I look back and wish I hadn’t felt so stressed over expressing, as it seemed to dominate most of my time and thinking during the days in NICU. I also look back and laugh a little, knowing that I went against everything I had felt so strongly about, but how can any best laid plans come to fruition when your baby decides to make an early appearance?!

 

One thought on “Daisy Daisy

  1. keepsmeoutofmischief

    I’d never really thought about it from the ‘your body wasn’t meant to be doing this for a while yet’ point of view. After my first premmie I really struggled to produce enough milk using the pump and went home breastfeeding but topping up with formula. After my second my body thought ‘I’ve done this before ‘ and I produced loads but always topped up because I was scared I wasn’t giving him enough like the first time round. The result is one string-bean of a 3 year old and a rather well padded 1 year old! They do alright whatever we give them. Hope all is well with your little one.

    Like

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s