Your Stories - The Menn Family

I've got quite a story when it comes to breastfeeding my first daughter, Dominique. She was born on December 24, 2000 after a very easy six-hour labor and natural birth. I had inverted nipples and so, for a couple of weeks before her birth, I wore breast shields, hoping that they would help. Still, I expected to feel some amount of discomfort, as this was a new experience for me.

Every feeding was painful. Her initial latch-on would bring tears to my eyes and make my toes curl. My mother would try to encourage me, insisting that it would get better. In that first week, we had a check-up with her pediatrician. He asked how breastfeeding was going. I described the pain that I was in. He said, "Let me introduce you to an angel." This was when I met Susan.  I showed her my traumatized left nipple, which had a dark crescent shaped bruise. Besides suggesting different nursing positions, she showed me a trick to get Dominique's tongue in the right position to latch-on and taught me to compress my breast to help Dominique get far enough onto the breast.  Despite these very helpful tips, the pain increased.

On January 1st, just one week after Dominique was born, my husband, Curt, brought Dominique to me and in a regretful tone of voice said, "She's hungry." I started crying in anticipation of the sharp piercing pain that I knew I was about to feel. I put her to the breast and held back a scream as my body wretched in pain. Curt started crying and had to leave the room. He couldn't stand to see me in that much pain. Two hours later she was hungry again, and the torture began again. Curt insisted that I take her off. "I'm going to mix up a bottle for her!" he threatened, as he turned and walked out of the room. I pleaded between sobs, "But I have to do this for her!" He recomposed himself and called a friend of his, another lactation consultant. "I can't afford to pay you, but I'll pay your gas and bridge toll and feed you." She promised to come right away. 

It was this friend who suggested that Dominique and I had a thrush infection. She mixed up baking soda-water and vinegar-water solutions for me to wash my nipples with after feedings. She also suggested that I contact the pediatrician for treatment for the both of us. The next morning, we were in his office. We had remembered Susan telling us about a weekly breastfeeding support group held at the hospital later that morning. 

Those weekly support groups became the key to my breastfeeding success. Each week, I could count on Sheila being there to sympathize with me and cheer me on. "Take it one feeding at a time," she would tell me. To hear other moms tell their stories, how they coped and how they got through it gave me the encouragement that I needed.

Still, despite Dominique taking oral Nystatin drops and me using Nystatin and Mycolog creams, the infection was not going away. The crescent shaped bruise had become an open wound that went half way around my nipple. Each feeding would reopen the wound so that healing became impossible. And the pain... the shooting pain that I could now feel through my breast and into my chest...

I became resentful each time my daughter would indicate that she was hungry. I was torn. I didn't want to feel the intense pain if I nursed her, but I was not going to give her formula. Curt, who had now realized that I wasn't going to ever give our daughter formula, suggested that I use an anesthetic on my nipple to help dull the pain. He went to the medicine cabinet and pulled out a tube of Oragel. I laughed at him and told him he was crazy. But in my desperation, I put some on my nipple. I let it sit there for 15 minutes before rinsing it off and putting Dominique on. It took enough edge off that I could tolerate her initial latch-on. 

This became our feeding routine. Dominique would start crying. I would apply the Oragel. Curt would rock Dominique and prepare her tongue to latch on. I would wash off the Oragel and pop her on. I would grimace and wonder how much longer this would go on. 

After ten weeks, I had to accept the fact that this open wound on my nipple was not going to get better with her nursing on it. I went to see my OB/GYN. I explained to the doctor what was going on, what we had been doing and the prescriptions we were using. When it came time for the doctor to examine my nipple, her face fell. "That is the worse case of cracked nipples that I have ever seen." This wasn't just a crack! It was a wide-open crevasse! I smiled and said, "Well, I'm glad to know that I'm not just whining about a little crack." She told me that even after it finally heals, I would have a permanent scar. I asked for a Diflucan prescription. After discussing all concerns, I ran to the pharmacy with the prescription tightly clenched in my fist as if my life depended on it. I knew that my ordeal would end soon!

Then, the insurance company threw us a curve ball. They only wanted to cover three days of a seven-day prescription. I started taking the Diflucan right away. After three days, I was noticeably better. But without the full prescription it started getting worse again. I went back to the doctor who then called the insurance company and insisted on a fourteen-day prescription. They agreed to cover the expense.

This time, I knew that if this wound were going to heal, I would have to pump on that side. This was the only time that Dominique was ever given a bottle. Even though she was given my pumped breast milk, it still bothered me to see her with a bottle. I tolerated it for five days before putting her back on that side to nurse. Several more weeks passed before I finally experienced painless nursing. With that behind me, my goal of nursing Dominique for twenty-four months became realistic.

Two weeks after I finished the last of my Diflucan prescription, I started pumping my milk to freeze it. I thought I would be returning to work. My husband ended up taking a better job offer, which then allowed me to stay home. With half of our freezer now full of milk that I wouldn't need, we agreed to donate to the Mothers' Milk Bank. I continued pumping for donation until Dominique was ten months old. At that time, I was then pregnant with our second child. My goal remained to continue nursing Dominique for as long as she wanted to. So, I nursed her through my pregnancy. 

On July 13, 2002, Elsa formally joined our family. Within a few days, I recognized those old familiar thrush symptoms. I went to Elsa's pediatrician, also a lactation consultant, the next morning. I started a three-day Diflucan prescription and both girls were instructed to use Junction Violet. Within a week we were back to normal and easily adjusting to tandem nursing.

I have endured a lot to be able to successfully breastfeed my daughters. Why was I so dedicated? 

When I was twenty-seven weeks pregnant with Dominique, a sonogram showed that she had mild to moderate hydrocephalus. We were told that the baby might experience developmental delays and possible physical deformities. Our baby was facing brain surgery. By the time she was born, we'd had an amniocentesis, a fetal MRI, and about two-dozen sonograms to rule out possible causes of the hydrocephalus and monitor head size. We pleaded to have a natural childbirth experience despite recommendations to have a caesarian section. We were authorized to do so if labor started before a scheduled induction date. I walked around for a 
week rubbing my belly and telling the baby, "Honey, I know that you're probably warm and cozy in there, but it's time to come out now. If you don't, they're going to hurt Mommy. So, please come out." Dominique cooperated. But more than just cooperation, she showed us a little miracle of her own. 

An ultrasound was done later that day on Dominique's head. It showed everything to be normal. We were relieved. It would continue to be monitored, but my resolve to give my daughter the best was strengthened.

"The best" included my feeding choice. "The best" for my daughter was her own mother's milk. Brain development was a constant concern for me since she'd already had a strike against her. The benefits of breast milk had already been researched and that's what my daughter would have. And plenty of it she got; and is still getting!

-Dominique & Elsa Menn, with Mom & Dad