You are enough. You have enough.

A mother’s journey Full Circle, back to herself …These are her words.

‘We had a complicated birth. None of it went to plan.’ 

How many times have we heard it? They almost never go to plan, right? 

‘That’s ok,’ we think. 'Birth is just a few hours in the grand scheme.' 

I don’t think I realised how much birth could impact our breastfeeding journey. Of course I knew it played a part. That’s why I advocated for no syntocinon post-birth and preferred to have a Caesarian only if absolutely necessary. I knew the risk factors that would most likely impact breastfeeding and I wanted to avoid them if possible. I was open to everything if my health or my baby were in danger. But I really preferred, as I stated many times, ‘if everyone could just leave me alone and let me do what I have to do’ during labour. 

But, suffice it to say, we needed help; baby wouldn’t come out, despite everything we were trying. She was OP and wouldn’t turn, and just would not move through my pelvis. I stomped, I changed positions, I got into the bath, I got out of the bath, I moved around, I sat on the toilet; nothing was working. So, we ended up with a failed vacuum, forceps delivery (with no pain relief - my choice), an episiotomy, and a third-degree tear. This led to a 2L haemorrhage, which was the start of our complications for breastfeeding. We had immediate skin-to-skin and she latched straight away, though, so I thought we were going to be fine. 

Quinn was born 11 days after my nanna - my only living grandparent - passed away. Only 11 days earlier and they would have met. Her funeral was on a Friday and I had Quinn the following Monday. I’ve always had a dream that nanna would meet at least my first born baby. I’m fairly certain the emotional toll of losing nanna, combined with our challenging birth, played a role in how things unfolded for us….And then there was the tongue tie…And her torticollis….And my thyroid problem. We were already fighting an uphill battle and it was only day one. Nevertheless, we persisted. 

We persisted when the paediatrician suggested, (on day one) formula top ups. We persisted when he suggested it again on day three. We persisted when we were told she’d lost 10% of her birth weight. But this is allowed, right? I remember wondering why everyone was so hellbent on trying to make me formula feed when we were only in week one! 

By week two, we knew something wasn’t right. Quinn had regained 100g very quickly in the few days that we were home, but by the time we’d been home a week she had stopped gaining weight. She screamed almost non-stop. She’d take 90 minutes to feed on both sides, and fall asleep constantly while latched because she had no energy. She was using more energy to feed than she was getting from my milk. Then she’d be back on me with 15-20 minutes of finishing a feed because she was hungry again. But she always had good wet nappies, and all of the other indicators that she was hungry weren’t there, which is why we just thought maybe she had wind or was overtired. 

I started domperidone to boost my supply. Our midwife suggested that we have her tongue tie fixed (it was awful to watch, I sobbed). Straight away she latched so much better, and seemed happier for a couple of days. 

A week later, she’d lost 20g. Not much, but enough that we were concerned. The midwife suggested two alternatives: formula top ups and pumping to increase my milk supply, or just pumping and giving top ups with expressed milk. I had already tried some pumping and didn’t get a lot; I knew I wouldn’t have enough for full top ups every feed. We opted - through tears - for formula top ups. 

‘Just for a few weeks, until your milk supply increases,’ she said….

I desperately didn’t want to formula feed. I knew it was a lifesaver for people who needed it, but I believed that my milk was the absolute best I could give my baby. Nothing could compare with the milk that changed according to my baby’s needs at the time. Nothing could give her the antibodies I could. Nothing could give us the bonding we experienced when she fed from me. It felt as if it was all slipping through my fingers.

I felt like a failure.

“I have one job right now, and I can’t even get that right!” I’d sob to my husband, my mum, my best friend. I called my best friend in tears the first day that we started the formula top ups. She just let me cry for five minutes; she was on the other end of the phone, saying, ‘I know. It’s ok, I’m here. Just cry. Let it all out. I’m here’….

The formula top ups worked. A week of full top ups and miss Quinn had gained over 300g. We could start weaning down. We were winning! Hopefully just a few more weeks of top ups! 

As we weaned the top ups, Quinn’s weight gain slowed as well. She was vomiting. A lot.

It often looked like almost the whole top up, which made the whole thing feel futile. She would get so distressed when we gave her top ups, the distress, and as we would eventually discover, the actual formula, were both making her vomit. The paediatrician was concerned.

“She needs to put on weight, doesn’t she?’” he said at our six-week check up.

I’m fairly certain my facial expression wasn’t kind, but we explained everything we were doing, all the professionals we had involved, everything we’d tried so far. 

I couldn’t go anywhere in the car with her without having to pull over at some stage. She would scream and cry and become so distressed that I was unsafe on the road. She was hungry ALL the time. I would feed her and change her nappy before we got in the car, but as soon as I tried to put her in the seat, she’d start crying. And it wouldn’t stop; not until we reached our destination, or I stopped on the side of the road to feed her. And then if I had to put her back in the seat, she’d start again until the journey was over. I was a nervous wreck. I never wanted to go anywhere because I couldn’t deal with knowing she was so upset and I couldn’t get to her or comfort her. 

Our midwife recommended us to Bekki from Full Circle Midwifery & Lactation Support, as we were being discharged from the midwifery follow-up programme.

Bekki was so kind and made us instantly feel at ease. There was no judgement, just a genuine desire to help us reach our goals. I told her I desperately wanted to get back to exclusively breastfeeding. This baby LOVES breastfeeding, so any solution that removed that from the equation altogether wasn’t an option. I would do whatever it took. But most importantly, we wanted Quinn to be healthy. She needed to gain weight. She was born in the 34th percentile and was now in the 2nd. I didn’t want to just be led by that, but it was concerning. 

Bekki helped us look at the full clinical picture. Being a nurse myself, this helped a lot. I was able to get outside of my emotions and reason with myself a bit more. Yes, she needed to gain weight. But was she happy? Did she have good nappies? What did her skin look like? Was she dehydrated? I started to trust myself a little bit more. 

At Bekki's suggestion, we started Supplemental Nursing System (SNS) feeding as an alternative to the bottles. We could give top ups through the SNS while she was latched to me; what a beautiful thing this turned out to be. Not only were we trying to decrease Quinn’s distress with the bottles, we were trying to increase connection between her and me with longer feeds. And of course, the longer she stayed on me, the more production she should stimulate. Quinn didn’t love the supply line, but mostly it was much better than bottles. It was fiddly but we got used to it. And the pumping. Allllllways pumping. 

At this stage we had tried two formulas, and the second made her vomit worse than the first. There was even a night I thought we’d be heading to the Emergency Department because she was barely keeping anything down. Bekki had suggested donor breastmilk, so I contacted them that evening and they had a delivery to us by the following afternoon. They could tell how desperate we were. 

We’d found our golden key. Everything unlocked once we had the donor milk. It was an absolute game changer for us. That, combined with the supply line, and we finally felt like we were winning.

Quinn had been gaining weight, but every feed was a struggle. Now we had some feeds that were still challenging with the supply line, but some were completely normal and she didn’t fight me at all. She stopped vomiting, almost altogether. She’d spit up little bits here and there, but nothing in comparison to the formula.

We started weaning down the top ups. Eventually we were down to 1 x 20ml top up before she went to bed every night; it took a few weeks, but we weaned off of that as well. All in all, it took us 5 months to get there. 5 months of top ups, domperidone, lactation cookies, pumping, lactation teas, and what felt like round-the-clock feeding. Sometimes it felt as if all I did every day was just sit on the couch and feed Quinn. But when we’d made it a week, and then two, and then a month without top ups and Quinn was still gaining weight… I have never been more proud of myself for anything in my life. 

We were so lucky that we had people who showed up for us. My husband has been our greatest support and advocate. He faithfully cleaned and sterilised the bottles and supply line, he made up the formula, he warmed the bottles, he took over the feeding when she was too distressed and I was about to melt down. He took her when I was completely touched out. He told me we were doing a great job and how proud he was of us. 

But at the end of the day, it was me and Quinn. Me and my little girl worked so hard and we came out the other side with a bond and an accomplishment that I will cherish for the rest of my life. We couldn’t have done it without our village, but we did it together, she and I.

Every time I get to feed this babe I’m grateful that we made it through together.

Thank you Lironne Botha for trusting us to support you on such an incredible journey. Thank you for sharing your story and shedding light on a complicated, but beautiful path back to yourself, back to your power.

Remember mummas,

You are enough, you have enough.

One day at a time.

Beautiful words written and shared with consent by Lironne Botha.

Stunning photo capture by First Glance Photography.