The Nursing Chair That I Never Nursed In: A Hilariously Emotional Tale
When I was pregnant with my first baby, I had this vision of being the quintessential "Brooklyn Mom." Picture it: limited gear, baby strapped to me in a chic sling, and zero bottles because I would be the breastfeeding queen. Naturally, I devoted an embarrassing amount of time to finding the perfect nursing chair for my baby’s room. It had to swivel, rock gently, have the perfect arm height for elbow support, and a tall enough back to rest my head during those dreamy late-night feedings. The fabric had to be just right—nothing too dark since I imagined countless meals being spilled on it. Finally, I found "The One," ordered it online, and couldn't wait to sit in it, pregnant, daydreaming about nursing my soon-to-arrive little boy. Little did I know that the times I sat in it pregnant would outnumber those after he arrived.
My sweet baby boy made his grand entrance a day before his due date, with eyes wide open, ready to rock. He was full-term, healthy, and happy, and we were over the moon. Breastfeeding? Piece of cake, right? After all, everyone said it’s the most natural thing in the world!
Fast forward to the recovery room. Within an hour or two of his arrival, a nurse informed me it was time to feed him. Just hold him up to my breast, and he should latch on instinctively, getting that precious liquid gold called colostrum. Simple, right?
Colostrum is the first form of milk produced by mammals immediately following the delivery of the newborn. It's a thick, yellowish fluid that is rich in antibodies, nutrients, and immune-boosting properties, making it extremely beneficial for the baby. Colostrum helps to build the baby's immune system, providing protection against infections and diseases. It also aids in the development of the newborn's digestive system, promoting healthy growth and development. Despite its small quantity, colostrum is packed with proteins, vitamins, and minerals, making it an essential part of early nutrition for the baby.
Well, our first attempt didn’t go as planned. He didn’t latch. After many failed attempts, I was advised to hand express the colostrum onto a tiny spoon to feed him. With more unsuccessful tries, the hospital lactation specialist arrived like a superhero, ready to rescue us. She suggested various holds—football, side-lying, you name it—to give him a better angle for latching. Each hold was another failure, leading to mounting frustration and tears.
Meanwhile, my sweet husband became the hand-expressing champion, allowing me to hold our boy while he got the colostrum out. I told myself it was fine—I was still feeding him from my body, which was what mattered to me. We just needed time to figure this out, right?
Once home, things didn't improve. Overnight, my milk came in, transforming my chest into rock-hard double D's that were red, irritated, and about to burst. Without him latching, I was clueless. None of the pregnancy books had prepared me for this. In desperation, I called in a friend for backup. She zoomed over, and just seeing her felt like a lifeline. We tried, and he latched—for a brief, glorious moment. A win, albeit small.
Then, a twist. I had hypertension during labor, which morphed into postpartum preeclampsia (didn’t realize that was actually a thing). The day my friend was over, I got a call: back to the hospital, stat, due to stroke risk. Cue the drama:
Pack up the family, drive to the hospital.
More failed breastfeeding attempts, learning to pump on a hospital pump / shreded nipples.
Baby admitted through emergency room for jaundice; first 24 hours apart.
Three days later, we’re released.
Even faster forward:
More failed latching attempts.
Pumping.
$350 to a lactation specialist who only stressed me out more.
Pumping.
Countless calls to friends for help.
Pumping, pumping, pumping.
ENT visit for cutting lip and tongue tie (Our Dr was amazing! Dr. Linda Dahl - read her book if you are struggling)
More failed attempts.
Pumping.
Second ENT visit for latch help (Seriously our Dr was a badass!)
Pumping.
After two exhausting months, every attempt left me in tears and pain. The cycle of trying, pumping, bottle feeding, washing parts, and starting over consumed my life. I felt like I was missing out on being a first-time mom with my newborn baby boy. Then it hit me: I was the one fighting for this, not him.
LET IT GO, MOMMA! Every body and every baby are different. Here I was, with a supply that twin moms would envy, but a baby who couldn’t latch. So what?! Count my blessings and move on.
So, I embraced being an exclusively pumping mom. A labor of love, but hey, that’s our story. I ended up pumping so much I filled a small deep freeze in our tiny Brooklyn apartment. No one could ever tell me I wasn’t determined… My goal was six months; I pumped for seven. My little dude just turned one last weekend, and he's still getting two bottles a day of breast milk.
When it comes to feeding, every story is unique. My advice to expecting parents or parents of a newborn? Know your options, have preferences, and be flexible. Parenthood is all about adaptability. And ultimately, fed is first. Wether you are a breastfeeding mom who nurses or pumps / bottle feeds or a formula mom - YOU ARE DOING GREAT!
Oh, and that nursing chair? It’s still in my baby boy’s room. I now daydream about reading books to him in it before bedtime, but my little wild man is too busy entering toddlerhood to sit still. Maybe he pushed me to grow into being the Mom that he needed right from the start with our breastfeeding struggles, and I’m stronger for it.
Stay fresh, have a laugh & join the club!
Fresh Diapie Social Club
