- When my first baby was born, I wanted to breastfeed exclusively.
- My baby and I struggled for months, both of us crying at every feeding.
I had always planned to breastfeed, so after my first daughter was born, I was concerned when my milk did not come in. My lactation consultant — or LC — assured me everything was fine, and two days later, we were both discharged from the hospital. I am certain we would never have left if my daughter had been weighed one more time.
My husband and I returned to the hospital the next day, our daughter screaming and me in tears. My milk had still not come in, she would no longer latch, and we were both miserable.
With a grave tone, my LC said we needed to introduce formula on an extremely restricted basis so our daughter would not "become lazy and refuse the breast." Our daughter had lost so much weight, she told us, it would need to be reported. A week postpartum, my milk finally came in, but barely. Years later, I would learn some babies in situations like ours are left with permanent damage or die.
I felt like a failure
This was the height of "breast is best," and I felt like a failure as a mother. Meanwhile, the LC put us on a brutal schedule for two weeks straight of feeding our daughter every couple hours — waking her if asleep — by nursing, providing extremely restricted formula supplementation, and pumping both sides. As terrified and exhausted new parents, we complied.
It was stressful and exhausting, and my milk supply did not budge. Now that I am a more experienced parent, I also know my daughter still wasn't getting enough to eat.
At my LC's instruction, I tried every intervention in the book in the subsequent months. My supply never increased and remained extremely limited. When I pumped, I rarely produced more than ½ oz, both sides combined. My mental health suffered, and pumping constantly was frustrating and depressing. Then our LC recommended I see an endocrinologist. My husband was living with terminal brain cancer, so I was gripped with anxiety when the endocrinologist ordered an MRI to rule out a pituitary brain tumor.
I had insufficient glandular tissue
Through all of this, my LC waited five months to mention that, though I lacked some of the common physical characteristics, I likely had a condition called insufficient glandular tissue — or IGT — where the milk-making breast tissue doesn't develop as expected.
I was both furious that she had not shared this information sooner and relieved to have an explanation. I could also finally stop putting myself through hell for something that wasn't even biologically possible.
Since then, I've had two more children. I nursed them both, but only to the extent that my body was capable, which continued to be minimal. With my second, I was guilted by hospital staff into trying to exclusively breastfeed again, despite my history. She was born in a "baby-friendly" hospital, so the staff was not allowed to offer formula unless medically necessary. By the second day, I was terrified of a repeat experience, explained my history to the pediatric hospitalist and asked to start formula. "You got it," she said, and I felt a wave of relief.
When my third daughter was born, I was done being bullied, and the culture had started to change. I was upfront with hospital staff that I would be nursing but that we would also be starting formula immediately. I felt immeasurable comfort knowing my baby was being fed adequately.
While IGT is a relatively rare condition, increased awareness is important. I am glad there is so much support around breastfeeding, but it can be extremely harmful to everyone involved when it goes too far.