There’s no place like home

The past week has been difficult. Now, being home from the hospital with Bubby D after four worrying, stressful and frustrating days, its hard to put into words the emotions and experiences we have been through.

Bubby D ended up in A&E after a successful first few days of feeding, as she began to be hard to wake up and was refusing to feed at all. Being determined to breastfeed, I had no bottles or formula in the house, and so I ended up expressing and using a Nurofen dosing syringe (really good idea from Nurofen – far, far easier than trying to give medicine on a spoon) to try and get her to take a little bit of milk.

Even that proved practically impossible and so Bubby D ended up with a nose tube and a drip, with me frantically expressing milk frequently to keep up with the hospital’s demanded 50ml’s every two hours.

Any mum who’s had their milk ‘come in’ in the early days and felt that full to bursting feeling will know the sweet relief I felt at the initial use of the hospital breastpump – after 24 hours of practically no feeding or expressing as we waited for the hospital to process us and admit us to the ward I thought I might explode.

Following on from this initial mass milk availability however, the continual waking (as by this time I was exhausted), pumping, and attempts to feed whilst witnessing the distress of Bubby D was becoming increasingly wearing. The hospital stuck rigidly to their policy of specific amounts to be fed on specific timescales despite Bubby D throwing up half of it every time it was forced down the nose tube, and attributed my tears and frustration to possible post natal depression rather than the natural reaction of a mum who is worried about her child and torn between following her instincts; and following the advice of the medical professionals. The breastpump was also the only one available and since there were three of us on the ward all needing to pump, that just added to the pressure.

While the focus of the hospital was simply on getting Bubby D feeding reliably by any method and getting us discharged (and it was clear that they were in favour of going down the formula route rather than assisting with supporting breastfeeding), my focus was firmly on getting Bubby D feeding, but breastfeeding as I knew she could if given the chance.

Even family support from the Other Half was waning, with a toddler at home with his Grandma needing looking after, and continual trips to and from the hospital leading to him suggesting that we just get some formula and go home. Reassurances from said Grandma, hospital staff and the Other Half that ‘I needn’t feel guilty’, ‘formula milk is just as good’, and ‘you’ve tried your best and it’s not the end of the world’ were thrown about. I can fully appreciate, experiencing this, how many women do not persevere with breastfeeding in the face of such conflicting emotions and pressure, at what is already a very hormonal and tiring time.

Finally on day 4, our breakthrough! A slack nurse not appearing at the allotted three hour interval to witness attempted feeding meant that I could allow Bubby D to continue to sleep, and wake naturally when hungry. Which she did half an hour later, and after a couple of attempts, latched on happily. Words cannot express my relief!