Transcript
Natalie:
The problem was, I was so focused on labour and giving birth. I just assumed that the help I’d need with breastfeeding would be there. That I’d be able to ask for it, and someone would help me.
How wrong I was.
That was a real shock to the system. I realised very quickly that I was going to have to teach myself how to breastfeed, and that’s what I did.
Theo was overdue – nearly two weeks. My waters broke, and I was given 24 hours before I would be induced. I was having contractions, but nothing regular enough, so I accepted the induction because my body had already started the process.
But everything ramped up so intensely. It was nothing like what I expected. I had blood loss, started on gas and air, then pethidine, and I was taken into a high-risk room. Straight away I knew we weren’t following the birth plan anymore. I was on a drip, I couldn’t move around as much as I wanted to.
At one point they told me I couldn’t get off the bed because of all the wires and monitors. But I needed to move. Something instinctive told me I had to change position. I got off the bed anyway, my legs were wobbly, and I kind of sank down to the floor.
When it came time to push, I was utterly exhausted. They kept saying, “If the baby doesn’t arrive on the next contraction, we’ll have to intervene.” Eventually, somehow, we managed without intervention.
Afterwards, I needed stitches. They offered me gas and air again, but I’d heard that oxytocin from breastfeeding could help with pain relief. I asked if I could breastfeed while they stitched me, and they said yes.
I was in this little breastfeeding bubble. I had no idea what was happening down there. I didn’t feel any of it. It was amazing to realise how powerful those hormones are.
Theo latched straight away, no problem at first. I asked to speak to the infant feeding team, but I was directed to a student midwife who was in the room. I don’t really remember that conversation at all.
The next feed was painful. And from then on, all the feeds were painful.
I remember asking for help at one point. A member of staff walked past, didn’t come close enough to look, and just said something vague about expressing. She didn’t even try to understand what the problem was.
All I could remember was skin-to-skin. So I took my top off, brought Theo in close, and he latched again. And again, I was struck by how powerful that instinct is. Someone else might have thought, “This isn’t working, I’ll stop.” But something in me kept going.
I noticed my nipples were coming out squashed – that lipstick shape. But I’d seen bottle teats shaped like that, so I assumed it must be normal. Looking back, that makes me angry. Those adverts flood your social media once you’ve had a baby, and they really can affect how you interpret what’s happening.
We stayed two nights in hospital. It wasn’t until discharge that a midwife noticed my nipple shape and said there must be a latch problem. That was the first time anyone said that.
I gave birth in Warrington, but I live in St Helens. When I got home, the midwife gave me the contact for the St Helens infant feeding team, which turned out to be fantastic. If I’d given birth at Whiston Hospital, I’d have had feeding support straight away – but that wasn’t the case where I was.
The days were manageable. Weirdly, feeding worked better when I was out of the house because I just had to get on with it. But the nights were horrendous.
I remember one night at three in the morning, I just collapsed on the sofa crying. My husband held the baby and said, “I know this is hard, but we have to feed him somehow.” He knew better than to suggest anything else.
I contacted the feeding team and someone came for a home visit. I couldn’t believe that was an option. She was lovely, but I felt quite intimidated – you’re so vulnerable at that point. A lot of the advice was just “relax,” which, of course, I needed to do, but how do you relax?
We’d developed bad habits. I knew I was supposed to bring the baby to the breast, not lean into the feed, but you just do whatever works to get through.
Theo wasn’t diagnosed with tongue tie until four weeks. I’d noticed his tongue had a little heart shape. I thought it was cute and kept pointing it out. No one seemed concerned.
Eventually, I went to a drop-in with a lactation consultant. She checked him and explained that although he could latch initially, he couldn’t maintain it, which is why it was becoming excruciating.
She referred us, but the wait was long. I remember thinking, how am I supposed to cope until then? She mentioned going private, but why should I have to? We have the NHS. I’m entitled to this care.
Eventually I got a cancellation. By that point, breastfeeding still wasn’t easy, but it felt more manageable. I wasn’t sure anymore if I wanted someone to permanently change my baby. A few weeks earlier, I would have done anything.
At the appointment, I had a very emotional conversation with the practitioner. She talked everything through with me, reassured me, and for the first time I felt properly informed. I felt able to make the decision.
We went ahead with the procedure. It took seconds. Then we went into a feeding room and I fed him straight away.
And my husband, standing there, suddenly realised he has a tongue tie too.
Source: HT audio tour Natalie W