BLOG Post #30: The Worst Lactation Specialist in Brooklyn
Let me set the stage for you: a new mom, a tiny human with an insatiable appetite, and a whole lot of confusion. A wise friend once said, “Back in the day, we raised babies in a tribe, with all the women before us ready to lend a hand.” Fast forward to today, and many of us are navigating this wild ride without our tribes nearby. So, what do we do? We hire our tribes!
When I was battling the breastfeeding blues, I frantically called my mom and friends, desperately seeking validation. “Is it supposed to hurt this much? Is my baby a bottomless pit? Why didn’t anyone warn me it would feel like a wrestling match?” My son was three weeks old, and I felt like I was in an endless cycle of feeding, crying, and sheer panic. With my support network miles away, I turned to the internet and began my quest for a lactation specialist.
I combed through recommendations from NYU Langone’s website, sending emails faster than a toddler can throw a tantrum. I was determined to book the first available appointment, convinced that anyone vetted by NYU had to be an expert. I got a response: a lactation specialist was available in two days for a cool $350. Appointment locked!
We arrived at her apartment in Park Slope, ready for our hour-long consultation. I was so prepared I practically had a spreadsheet. I measured my nipples (yes, you read that right), packed my breast pump, and even pumped extra milk to ensure my little one wouldn’t go hungry during our “learning” session. I thought, “This is it. I’m about to get all the answers.”
Now, let me paint you a picture: her apartment was a cozy two-bedroom in a semi-modern building, adorned with her teenage daughter’s artwork—fairly cute and comfortable for an hour of awkward intimacy. But here’s where it gets interesting: she had wild, greasy hair and a frantic energy that felt more like a coked up stressed out rom com bestie than a lactation consultation. Her vibe was more “runaway circus performer” than “calm and collected lactation expert.” But hey, I thought, maybe she’s just eccentric!
Fast forward to me, topless on her questionable brown leather couch, armed with a complex contraption that resembled a mad scientist's experiment. I was attempting to get my baby to latch while she juggled a tube of milk and the nipple shield like a circus performer. My husband, bless his heart, was also in the mix, helping hold my baby while I fought back tears.
After what felt like an eternity of unsuccessful latches and baby wails, she exclaimed, “Sometimes you have to be an octopus!” Um, okay, but I was really just trying to be a mom here! As my son cried, I felt my own emotions bubbling to the surface. It was clear she was more focused on proving she could make the latch happen at least once than actually arming me with skills I could use moving forward. I began to feel like a character in a tragic comedy, desperately trying to make this work.
With time running out, I resorted to giving my baby a bottle of expressed milk, feeling like a total failure while scrambling to squeeze in a few last-minute questions. “What do I do if he doesn’t latch? What if he’s not getting enough milk?” I felt like I was firing questions like a game show contestant, hoping for at least one helpful answer.
As I left her apartment, I felt utterly deflated. If a specialist and three pairs of hands couldn’t get my baby to latch, was I doomed? Her parting advice? “Go home and keep trying.” I had just paid $350 for this?
So, what did I actually learn from this experience? Here’s the short list:
Car seat straps can be adjusted—thankfully, she helped with that. I would’ve been driving around thinking we were strapped in safely, but nope!
Bottle nipple shapes matter—who knew that a simple bottle could cause so much confusion? I felt like I needed a degree in physics to understand the mechanics of feeding!
Google is your friend—especially for tongue ties and lip ties, which she wouldn’t explain because she didn’t want to push me into anything. Thanks for the vague referral, lady.
Vet your specialists—always a wise move before embarking on parenthood. A recommendation is great, but maybe check their energy levels first?
Look into the La Leche League - the organization who gave this women her accreditation.
In the end, while I didn’t get the breastfeeding support I hoped for, I gained a whole new chapter in my new parent saga. We may have to pay for our tribe now, but finding the right tribe is what really counts. So, if you’re venturing into the wild world of parenting, take it from me: do your research and avoid the “real bangers” of the lactation world! If you ever find yourself in a similar situation, just remember: it’s okay to laugh at the chaos, lean on your real tribe, and keep trying. You’ve got this!
Stay fresh, have a laugh & join the club!
FRESH DIAPIE SOCIAL CLUB
