We need to talk breastfeeding: ‘The nurse recoiled when she saw my nipple’

Even the nurse recoiled when she saw my left nipple.

It was a deep shade of black and rich purple along with a few scabs thrown in for good measure too. It looked - and was - agonising. "That seems very painful," she offered. "Is your daughter latching on OK?" Well, no. Evidently my daughter was not latching on OK. I was seriously struggling to feed her, in fact. But aged 29, among the first of my friends to have a baby, and generally not wanting to make a fuss I said very little.

A post shared by Gillian Fitzpatrick (@gillianfitz) on Mar 6, 2016 at 3:40am PST

When I did look for help, the nurses on my semi-private ward in Holles Street just didn't have the time to offer much more than a few words of 'hang on in there' or the odd message of encouragement. By day three my child wasn't getting much (if any) milk and was lethargic. In response, my plan of action was simple: pack up, go home, and start giving her formula. On the afternoon on my final day in Holles Street, I asked to express some milk for her (or maybe it was suggested to me). A machine arrived (the industrial strength, super-fast hospital ones) and when one midwife praised me for having "a brilliant supply," for the first time since my daughter arrived into the world I felt a stab of pride. I had found her birth traumatic: induced with Syntocinon and with no pain-relief, I had third-degree tears afterwards. Granted it's a similar story to thousands of other women, but afterwards recovering physically and mentally I was in no-way ready for breastfeeding. And I certainly wasn't prepared for how painful it was. One survey from the Centers For Disease Control And Prevention in US found that while 26 percent of mums had no pain on their first day breastfeeding, one week in only 3 percent said they were pain-free. Another 5 percent described it as the "worst possible pain". The rest fell somewhere in the middle.

A post shared by Gillian Fitzpatrick (@gillianfitz) on Oct 9, 2016 at 8:22am PDT

And plenty of surveys have previously shown that pain along with cracked, bleeding nipples are among the top reasons why women (understandably) stop breastfeeding in the first few months. I exclusively expressed milk for my daughter for four months. Sterilising bottles; pumping (including in the middle of the night); packing away bags into the freezer... it was gruelling, but in my mind it was preferable to the pain of feeding directly. Afterwards, a public health nurse said that my baby had tongue-tie - a common enough condition which usually rectifies itself, but it does make breastfeeding agonising and very difficult. It's pretty easy to spot and diagnose - but no one in the hospital had mentioned it and I suppose I didn't ask about it either. When my son arrived 18 months ago the birth was far more straightforward and my experience as a second-time mother undoubtedly helped too. He latched on like a dream from the outset and went on to provide me with countless blissful hours of feeding and bonding. But still those early days (and despite having a textbook BF'ing baby) were desperately hard. My nipples were still cracked and sore, and I still clenched my toes in pain when he latched on. I had a couple of bouts of mastitis too.

A post shared by Gillian Fitzpatrick (@gillianfitz) on Dec 3, 2015 at 3:19am PST

So I get the argument that speaking about these difficulties might only put even more Irish women off. Still, I want to make a plea on the other side of the fence: if rates are to improve, and if more women are to experience the joy, ease, and practicality of breastfeeding their babies - then we need to start speaking about those very real challenges. Because it does get better and it does get easier. Indeed, you'd be hard-pushed to find a BF'ing mama who doesn't say it's all worth it ten-fold over in the end... But pretending breastfeeding and pain don't go hand-in-hand? That has to stop. For more information on breastfeeding, look at the HSE's dedicated site breastfeeding.ie.