by Allison Micarelli-Sokoloff
August 04, 2010

If only I had known that most moms and babies need to learn to breastfeed. Now I understood, but it was too late. I had stopped pumping long ago and had given up any hope of actually breastfeeding my baby long before that. I assumed that my inverted nipples meant breastfeeding wasn’t an option for me.

Naïve? Unfounded? Uninformed? Yes, yes, and yes.

If only I knew then what I know now, my breastfeeding story might be very different. Instead, it goes like this:

I was confident in my ability to give birth, and equally sure that breastfeeding would not be part of my parenting future. Breastfeeding can be difficult even when your breasts are in working order. But given my inverted nipples, I was certain that I was going to fail. While reading my get-ready-for-baby books, I flat-out skipped over the chapters on breastfeeding (stealing just a glance here and there). I didn’t want to be told that breastfeeding was the best choice for my baby, so I registered for baby bottles, bottle brushes, and a bottle warmer instead. And when friends and family asked me whether I planned to breastfeed, I said, “It’s not for me,” and quickly changed the subject.

After all, I was formula fed, and I turned out okay. I graduated from college; I have a successful career; I am rarely sick; even as a baby, illnesses were few and far between. In the 1970s, two out of three mothers formula fed their babies. Thirty-something years later, formula feeding seemed like a sound option for me and my baby—more importantly, it seemed like the only option.

With my husband’s encouragement (he was a breastfed baby), I decided to give breastfeeding a try. I remember scanning a passage in one of the get-ready-for-baby books that said any amount of breast milk is better than none. I also remember my first attempt—I was in the recovery area of the hospital and all alone. Not a single nurse offered to help as I tried unsuccessfully to get my baby to latch on to my breast. So I turned my attention to a breast pump a nurse brought to my bedside. Pumping wasn’t fun—but it was easy, and I was thankful that I was able to give my baby even small amounts of my milk.

The next day, I attended a breastfeeding class, which turned out to be a lesson in optimal breastfeeding rather than a lesson in how-to’s for those unable to breastfeed. Every baby in the room, except mine, latched on and breastfed well. I quietly left the room feeling more discouraged than ever and wheeled my baby back to my room. Begrudgingly I resumed pumping. The lactation consultant that I had asked to see the previous day, arrived 10 minutes before I was to be discharged and announced that she was already five minutes late for a breastfeeding class she was scheduled to teach. I don’t remember one word she rattled off in the few minutes she spent with me. I was tired, discouraged, and resigned to the fact that my baby would be formula fed. The few minutes she spent with me did nothing to lift my spirits let alone educate me.

It wasn’t until three weeks after my son was born that I saw a lactation consultant at home who worked with me on positioning, worked with my son on exercises to help him achieve a better latch, and introduced me to a nipple shield. I felt a twinge of optimism—perhaps we could breastfeed. In addition to formula feeding, I continued to pump, breast milk feed, and offer my breasts to my baby, but just shy of my son turning 3 months old, I was able to get only drops of breast milk from each breast. My baby’s unwillingness to latch underscored my lack of confidence in my ability to breastfeed, and heightened my insecurities about my nipples (or lack thereof!). I now know that women with inverted (or flat) nipples can breastfeed—if I only knew then what I know now.

It’s often said that breastfeeding takes practice, patience, and persistence. But it also takes confidence—the ability to see yourself as a breastfeeding mom—to believe that you and your baby can breastfeed. Confidence was something I didn’t have.

But that was then and this is now. So how would my story be different if I could do it all over again? My story would be simple and it would go like this:

I have inverted nipples. I envision myself breastfeeding. I am confident I can do this. I breastfeed.