Make the Switch

“You need to make the switch immediately.” 

The 7 words that made my heart sink into the pit of my stomach. I’m not ready, I thought we had more time, I know this is what’s best... but I cannot wrap my head around the weight of it being over for us. 

I was really good at it— it came naturally, the way every mother hopes it would. From the moment they placed you in my arms after the most perfect, according to plan & natural birth, you latched. You grabbed my fingers with your tiny hands & you took those first few gulps. We were made for each other. No words will ever describe those moments of intimacy between us. Your need, my fulfillment. You sought comfort, I was there, literally pouring out from myself all that you needed as I nursed you at all waking hours. It didn’t matter how tired, frantic, anxious, or overwhelmed we felt. Those stolen and quiet moments in the middle of the night we could calm down together, skin to skin as I cradled your sweet body in my arms & breathed you in. Nursing was always the answer... wasn’t it? 

But something was wrong. Your body would become stiff, writhing in pain. You would pull away but desire to be close. What should have brought you satisfaction only seemed to aggravate you. While latched, peaceful and content, but hours later scream, writhe, whence, and whimper. Something was wrong.

My body was betraying you, and though we tried everything we knew how, it would not stop betraying you. I didn’t want the answer they gave, but at the same time I was overcome with gratitude that i had the answers to make my baby able to thrive. I had the solution— the most painful and heartbreaking and also simple solution that would take more from me than I ever could get back. 

“You need to switch her to formula immediately. She cannot digest the proteins in your breast milk. It’s nothing you’ve done wrong— it’s not a food allergy, it’s a breastmilk sensitivity. I know this is very difficult to hear, but you need to stop nursing her in order for her to improve.” 

...."It’s nothing I’ve done wrong," they say.  Except something IS wrong: My very body has betrayed me. It betrayed me for 9 months as It struggle to adjust to pregnancy, spending every day throwing up, anxious, and swollen. Now it betrays the life I created— it is not enough, and it takes everything within me to believe that somehow that is not my fault. If my very breastmilk is not good enough, how am I good enough? Are not two intertwined? They tell me they are not synonymous, and I believe them because I have to in order to keep my emotional stability.  

Though my heart pounds and screams “inadequate,” my mind reminds me to be grateful. Grateful for the 5 months of moments we had, grateful for medical doctors who care enough to find the answers, grateful for a support system that reminds me to give myself grace. Grateful that I have the courage to be unselfish-to do what is best, to give up a part of motherhood I will never get back in order to help this baby live the healthy and thriving life she deserves, free from the writhing and pain she has been experiencing these past 5 months. 

I will find another way to continue this intimacy with you, sweet baby. We will stare into each other’s eyes, and I will sing over you. I will love you with the same ferocity & passion as before. I promised you I would always fight for you—I would always listen to you. I promised I wouldn’t just look at you the way I looked at your sister or assume you were the same, because I knew you both were individuals who needed different parts of me. I knew you would have different highs and lows, and different challenges with unique solutions. I was able to nurse your sister for 13 glorious months, and when she was ready to move on, as was I. You are different, and we are not ready, but we will fight through this together and come out on the other side just as connected as before. We will thrive. Our bond supersedes the Act of nursing, because you are a part of me. We need each other, and I will not being selfish. I will fight for your health, your happinesses, your joy, because more than just nursing, that is what mothers do. 

I make a bottle of formula & cradle you in a familiar position. You look up me, tears streaming down my face as I grieve, and you drink. You finish and all at once are finally still and content without a hint of upset or spit up. I hold you close, breathe you in, and pat your back gently. 

We can do this. We can do this. 

-RS