HERE’S AMY’S STORY
“From the day I got pregnant, I knew I wanted to breastfeed my son. I’d read the books, taken the classes, and understood just how beneficial it was. I saw it as the most natural, beautiful, and womanly aspect of motherhood.
After his birth, I left the hospital exhilarated and determined to (FOR OVERFLOW) make breastfeeding work. Bringing home my healthy baby boy was the greatest joy of my life, and my husband and I relished every second as new parents. I meticulously tracked every feeding and every diaper and enthusiastically offered my breast at the first sign of hunger.
Then, suddenly, one night, it began. Every time my baby would latch on, I would experience searing pain. I would sit there trying to apply the breathing techniques I’d learned for labour to get through each session until it got too intense and I would have to pull him off. Between the guilt and the sleep deprivation, I admit that my conviction and confidence wavered.
Could I do this? Was I already failing as a mom? Would my baby suffer because of me?