Dear Peanut,

I heard about the Unang Yakap program from my “mommy friends.” Your UncleP also told me about it and as a writer, I’ve researched about it to great extent.

We’re glad to know that the hospital we chose is a strong advocate of the Unang Yakap program and breastfeeding. It’s good to know that we would give birth in a “baby-friendly” hospital.

What’s great about The Medical City is that they offer these free prenatal and parenting seminars for both their patients and outsiders. One of the seminars we attended included a hospital tour of the pre-labor room, labor room, delivery room, ward, and private rooms (and even the NICU). So we were able to—somehow—simulate what we would do when labor pain finally starts. A dry run of some sort. Looking back, that tour really helped!

And just as they promised in the seminars, you were immediately brought to my chest and taught how to direct latch in the delivery room while the doctors stitched me up. But you didn’t want to latch on even after several tries. You kept on crying and I thought that maybe the traumatic birth experience (you ate some of your poop while still inside my tummy, thus the stat CS) stressed you out. Maybe you just needed some time to relax.

When you were finally roomed-in with me, we immediately started to try direct latching so we can exclusively breastfeed. Nurses, doctors, and lactation consultants, even the midwives, continuously try to teach me how to properly position you so you can latch on properly. Sometimes, it worked. Most of the time, it didn’t. You would latch on for a while, suck—maybe 4 to 5 sucks per latch—, unlatch, and then cry. And we would start over again.

I wasn’t worried because we already know that it’s okay not to feed you for quite some time immediately following birth—because you still have some “baon” nutrients that you received from me before they cut your umbilical cord.

The prenatal seminars also educated us about the size of your tummy on Day 1 (the size of a calamansi fruit) so we weren’t worried that I couldn’t provide colostrum by the ounce. Of course, your grandparents were worried that you were getting hungry as hell.

We kept trying the direct latching and exclusive breastfeeding combo but the same thing happens. I try hand expression and I can see yellowish milk coming out. You just couldn’t latch on properly because my nipples are too small (not inverted, not flat, but they’re small).

If my areolas are the size of China (as your father wrote), I could probably describe my nipples as the Taal Volcano in Tagaytay because they’re not protruded enough that you can latch on effectively.

Taal Volcano in Tagaytay

I distinctly remember our third night at the hospital. We were trying to breastfeed you every 2-3 hours but you seemed so irritated already. Perhaps because since you couldn’t latch on properly, you also couldn’t get the colostrum out.

That was also the night that we were trying to calm you down so you would get the maximum exposure under the phototherapy equipment. I remember holding your tiny, yellowish face with one hand (football hold) and you said “ahh!” In my head, I keep on replaying that moment. I don’t know why but I swear I can still hear you utter “ahh!” sometimes as if someone nudged you awake. I remember how tiny you were on Day 3, like Turmeric Chicken, thigh part.

The Medela Pump Drama

When we finally agreed to take you to NICU for phototherapy, they told me I can breastfeed every 2-3 hours. But I wasn’t confident that I could provide you 20 ml of breast milk per feeding. I kept telling everyone that my nipples weren’t protruded enough that you couldn’t latch on properly but all they said was that I keep trying the direct latch approach.

Since they ran out of donor breastmilk that week (because umulan nga ng premature babies, as one of the midwives said) and we knew that getting breastmilk from friends or FB groups could take a while, we agreed to give you formula milk as a supplement. They had us sign a consent form as part of a hospital protocol.

Your father and I grew up on formula milk—the best money can buy at that time. And we turned out okay (walang kokontra, hahahaha) and we’re healthy. So we really have no qualms about giving you formula milk. After all, science bitches! Pun intended, you’ll know what I mean if you watch Breaking Bad.


We told ourselves, so what? We can still try to breastfeed you when we get home. But breastfeeding hardcore groups would rally and say, “Oh no, you ruined your chances of exclusively breastfeeding!” They would say “Oh no, nipple confusion na yan for sure kasi nagbote ka na!”

BACK OFF!

If formula milk is the best option for my child at a specific time, no poster, no video, no counseling would stop me from giving my baby what he needs.

NICU has breast pumps available so I figured, I might as try the machine so I can test one before we buy. Since we psyched ourselves that we're doing direct latching, we didn’t buy any pump prior to giving birth.

When I first visited NICU, I tried to do direct latching but you caused a ruckus at the breastfeeding room that I felt the 3 women there, who were silently breastfeeding, were judging me or feeling sorry for me because of your dynamite wails. It came to a point that I cried because you keep refusing my gigantic breasts.

Anak, ang laki ng dede ng nanay mo. Like three times the size of your tiny, tiny head. Each jug is filled with colostrum and you couldn’t get it out. Sino ba naman ang hindi maiiyak? Liquid gold kaya yun!

When I told the nurse that I’ll just try to pump milk instead, she wheeled you back to the phototherapy room and I swear, you gave me the evilest side eye I’ve ever seen as you exited the room. It felt to me like you were saying, “How could you leave me alone at this fancy tanning salon, mother???”

So there I was, inside the breastfeeding room at NICU, strapped to a Medela automatic breast pump. The three women were all holding their babies, skin to skin, and I was holding a yellow Medela breast pump bottle crying silently.

I felt so guilty and so sorry and so disappointed in myself because I couldn’t provide breast milk for you. After 1 hour of automated pumping, I could only get a few drops of colostrum out. The NICU nurse said it was okay and they would feed it to you. Liquid gold, as they say.

One of the OB-GYN speakers at the prenatal seminars attended warned us about this possible scenario. He said we should refrain from asking ourselves, “Anong klase akong ina?!” when we encounter such situations.

But that was exactly what I kept asking myself as I held the Medela breast pump bottle close to my jugs and cried silently while the three women nursed their premature babies, just like in those breast is best posters you see around the malls, hospitals, and almost everywhere!

Before I left the NICU breastfeeding room, I found out that they were all having issues, except for one. One told me her premature daughter won’t latch on and she had been there for 2 hours already! Another, mother of twins, told me she asked for donor’s milk because she couldn’t provide for both and that one of the NICU nurses feed her baby with a dropper. The one (without the issue) said comforting words that it will get better.

I realized that, wow, at the surface, I thought they were all having a wonderful time breastfeeding—complete with rainbows, butterflies, and unicorns. But in reality, they also have latching problems, breast milk supply issues, and more. So you see, everyone has an issue with breastfeeding.

Which leads me to another advocacy I would support with all my being.

To be continued…

XOXO,

Update (as of March 29, 2018): Changed my codename from Queen Bitch (QB) to Tiger Mom (TM).