The Big B’s

Were 3 months in and what a journey, it’s taken me till now to start finding the words to share our feeding journey, it’s also taking me 3 months to firmly accept where we are with it all and how feeding looks for us. I never realised the enormity of it all and pre pregnant me would have always said ‘if he needs a bottle then I am fine with that’ even looking at that statement makes me cringe as that’s where the root of the problem starts, I am already having to defend feeding with a bottle, why wouldn’t I be fine with that? Fed is fed right, after the years of trying to conceive the last thing I would chance was not feeding my baby, seems your head does crazy things when your placed in a challenging position where you feel you should be enough. 

Let’s roll back the years to 2006, when my boobs were HUGE and I made the decision to undergo breast reduction surgery i was informed the risk to breast feeding was there but as shared previously babies were the last thing on my mind. Therefore, when falling pregnant I always knew I may not be able to breastfeed, I told myself I was okay with that and stocked up on some bottles and pre-made formula to take in my bag. If the boobs didn’t work then at least the bottle was ready, i did however have some small hope as I had been showing signs of colostrum on my nipples, however I still told myself I was okay if it didn’t work for us, my midwife didn’t seem worried either so why would we. 

I have since found out I should have been referred to the specialist feeding workers for support in preparation to Albie being born. 

My labour was long, that’s for another blog but an element that’s important was my labour resulted in a c section, I am told a c section can interfere with breast feeding. I am also IVF and have been going through IVF for a number of years, meaning a hell of a lot of drugs have been pumped through my body, which again can cause problems in breast feeding and then to top it all off, I had my boobs lopped off, my nipples removed and stitched back on and more than likely my milk ducts damaged, so all in all things were looking bleak.

Albie came along with a hell of a bang, labour was traumatic, I was on a lot of drugs and my jaw was constantly heading west, meaning my brain was all over the place. When Albie went to latch the first thing I said was ‘are we allowed, Sam go ask the midwife’ to which my husband did and the lovely Rhian came and helped us latch him on and guess what, he fed, I wish I remember more of this feed but sadly I don’t, I have a photo and a blurry memory but what I do remember is something came out and they were happy with how he was feeding. This carried on into the night and the next day, we were checked a few times, and all seemed well, he was feeding, I was in shock and in all honesty wasn’t finding it too difficult. 

On day 3 the midwife came out, weighed him and he had gone down 13%, babies generally lose weight but it’s normally 10% max, as we had tipped over it resulted in lots of hospital appointments, harsh conversation and general frustration. The next 4 weeks turned into hell, and sadly gave us a very negative and unenjoyable first few weeks with Albie, we didn’t understand what we were doing wrong, we were doing what they asked but Albie still seemed so upset and cried a lot. We knew it wasn’t wind, reflux, colic and we were feeding him what we were being told but still had an unsatisfied babe. 

The clinic had us topping Albie up with formula, at first, they wanted him topped up with breast milk, however there wasn’t enough coming out in a feed so to try and express was just draining what there was in there. The top up’s we had to give in these sippy cups which were so awful and are used with premature babies, Albie was frustrated with them and we were stressed when trying to feed him. We were giving one ‘schedule’ by the midwife, which was then scrapped by the feeding specialist, which then changed when we were giving an appointment with another woman, by week 3 we had been giving 3 different ‘schedules’ to feed our babe but a still had a very sad unhappy baby. All 3 of us were breaking, and had no idea what to do, who to listen to or what was best, we also didn’t understand what was happening and how to make it right. 

When I read this back now, I scream at myself ‘HE WAS HUNGRY’ but at that point, when in the midst of it all I couldn’t work that out, maybe there was an element of ignorance, selfishness or dam right stupidity but when it actually came down to it what I realised was I didn’t want his main feed to be from a bottle, I wanted to feed my baby, I wanted to be what he needed, his nourishment, his drink, what helped him grow, I didn’t want formula to be that, I even asked Sam to call it his other milk as the word formula broke me, I felt I had failed and that word reminded me of that. 

The day I knew it needed to change was when he screamed, he screamed so much, and I cried, I asked him not to cry, I begged him not to and he carried on. My Mum turned up and held us both, she asked me what I felt was wrong, I again shared I didn’t know, we were doing what the clinic was telling us but he still wasn’t happy, mother hen made me look at a number of different things, we talked, we wrote lists, we narrowed it down, we thought fuck the clinic and I made him a bottle, a big bottle and together we fed him and he stopped crying, he nestled in and he was happy, he just needed a big feed, his tummy needed to be full and sadly however hard it was to admit I hadn’t been filling him up. 

From there we attended the clinic again and we told them OUR plan, we wanted to combine feed, they weren’t clapping for us but were supportive if that was our decision. 

Combined feeding hasn’t worked exactly for us, but I am still booby feeding or as I call it booby snacking, it’s comfort for me and him and although there isn’t much in there there’s something for him to enjoy. Combined feeding has allowed me to have time and space, since having Albie my mental health has been like a wave and it’s not having Albie that has done that but the pressure, medical treatment and unwarranted stress that has been put on me though out our whole fertility journey. By combi feeding Sam can take over, he can feed our babe and I can do what I need to do to look after me, I reflected a lot when I struggled with the bottle and started to realise when I was happy, he was, the bottle allowed that. 

I also have thought a lot about the pressure placed on women to feed, I see myself giving reasoning for why I bottle feed, explaining why I have made this choice, I then see I become part of the problem by being ashamed, I am now trying to be more proud and an advocate of bottle feeding and the benefits it can give. When did we as women become so less invaluable in this journey, motherhood is already hard enough without this other pressure, as a friend said ‘isn’t breast feeding just another way to shout women down’ powerful hey? I totally agree, if we don’t feel the guilt enough then isn’t breast vs bottle just another load right onto us. 

I am 3 months into this journey now and I am proud of myself, I feel the journey of boobing will soon end and I will be sad as I do enjoy this calm feed at night, but my babe loves to sleep and due to that he misses the night time snack out. I have giving him what he needs though, and he is deciding when he wants to stop, and I will be okay with that as overall, I know I have done the best I can for him. 

It took a while for me to bottle feed Albie out in public, I still don’t love it but I am better at it now, I still see judgement in others eyes but I sit tall and remember I am doing what I need to keep my baby alive and isn’t that the most important part in this whole feeding journey.

Boobies!

God I love them, I always have, mostly other people's but in the last 13yrs (to be exact) my own too. I can't remember the exact age I started developing but I know it felt too soon, there's certain points in your life you remember, a booby point of mine being my Mum arguing with a women in Marks and Spencer about the size of my back and me being mortified but also knowing my Mum was doing what was right for me, plus Mum's know best and she was buying them! 

These boobs of mine started growing and basically have never stopped, at my biggest I was a HH and if I am honest at the moment, I have no idea what size I am measuring at, but I am guessing a G cup.

My boobs at times have been my greatest asset, you can't complain when you're hitting the big market at 16 (sorry Mum) and getting in places as obviously big boobs meant no id. They became my identity as I started to explore relationships with the other sex and felt a 'huge' part of who I was. I guess for me they offered me something when I wasn't the most attractive, I look back now and recognise how little I felt inside but how big on the outside. 

My view started to change about my boobs when a few things happened, from somewhere I got the nickname of a 'weeble' you know those toys that wobble back and forward but never fall down, yep that's what I was likened too. It never made sense to me as if anything I was top heavy not bottom. I remember a flatmate and her bf once putting my bra on their heads and thinking this would be funny, yeah great joke. I also remember wanting a nice top for a night out and nothing fitted, I was 18/19 and struggling to find an outfit as my massive straps were always on show, back and shoulders. There were many incidents like this but a huge change was when I started working with young people in a youth offending role and I became known as 'the worker with the massive tits' at this point I decided I needed a change and made the decision to visit my doctors. 

I recognise I am not the only women with big boobs, a huge factor for myself  was that I was a HH on the front but only a 30 on the back, hence my Mum's argument in Marksy's as they always wanted me in a 32, resulting in another failed bra purchase. This meant at the early age of 20 my back was constantly in pain and I was definitely top heavy, every bra fitter would be astonished at my back to boob size, at times I felt on show for others to see.

My doctor was fantastic, she listened, supported and sent the letter recommending a reduction, I remember that appointment like it was yesterday, my Mum came with me and supported me it was a  difficult discussion but we agreed if it was what I wanted she would be there for me. 

In 2006 at the age of 23 I underwent a bilateral breast reduction, I remember the surgeon stating on reduction he would take them to a size that would still suit my body, however there were risks a main one being breast feeding, due to the resizing of the breast and nipple the milk ducts and nerves could be cut and damaged. At 23 this was so far from my mind, feeling happier in my body was my main goal. 

The surgery went well, they removed 655 grams from each breast, and left me at a FF cup, this may still sound big but it was the extra weight that changed, my boobs now sat where they were meant to and not down at my waist. My back felt lighter and I didn't feel like I needed to wear a hammock to hold myself in. 

Sadly I did become unwell after surgery and developed an abscess in my left breast, I won't talk about this too much as I still don't regret my surgery, but the abscess left me very unwell and they way the treated the abscess was in my eyes barbaric and left extra scarring on my left breast. As you can imagine Mama bear was not happy and she sure let them know. 

My surgery didn't just change my physical body but also where I was in that time of my life, my relationship, my goals and my passions, it opened up so much with this new self confidence and new sense of self. What I realised was I had been so lost and trapped and suddenly I felt free again, free to explore, understand and connect. I did just that with a lot of up and downs but with a satisfaction I was happy and finding me.

Recently that connection with my body and these boobs has come up again due to being pregnant, I realised breast feeding was something I hope to be able to do and if I am honest, always believed I would be able too. A few months back I went into a mild state of panic realising this may be impossible and I admit I became sad, annoyed and questioned if my surgery was selfish and wrong. As always discussing it with Sammy and giving myself space to think allowed me to reflect on the obvious, this time last year a pregnancy didn't feel possible so boob or no boob my babe will still be loved and certainly fed, breast or bottle. 

This ever changing relationship we have with our bodies over various periods of our lives is constant and I know will carry on, I have had signs booby feeding maybe possible, how much who knows. I watch them change in this pregnancy and possibly take on a new role in my life but whatever we have been through there's no denying my boobs have moulded and shaped so much of me and will carry on doing so. 

I have toyed with sharing my before and after pre op photos and have made the decision not to, there impressive I tell you, but for personal and professional reasons i feel putting my boobs online isn't a great idea. In that I decided no photo's were necessary, it's the words that count and well, there my boobs that have been looked at enough!