The soil she walks ; A journey through continents into motherhood

Embracing Patience in the Breastfeeding Journey

  • As I write this today, March 25, 2025, I am 49 days into motherhood—and to say it’s been a whirlwind would be an understatement. I even just found out today that the clocks sprang ahead 16 days ago. That about sums up how disoriented I’ve felt lately. I always imagined becoming a mom would be natural, almost instinctual. Everything I read and heard said that once the baby is born, they cry and then latch onto the breast for their first feed like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Well, when my little girl entered the world, her first act wasn’t to latch but to relieve her bladder on me—yes, right there on the delivery table! The whole room burst into laughter, and even through my exhaustion, I chuckled and said, “Oh wow, thanks. “
  • After my sister proudly cut the cord, the care providers took my baby for routine checks. While I was catching my breath and taking in what had just happened, one of the nurses came to me, beaming, and announced, “Your baby has a long foot!” I laughed along but quietly wondered, “Wait, is that… normal?” It was such an odd but funny observation amid the chaos. I couldn’t wait to have her in my arms. Her cries were sharp and persistent, and I knew she needed me just as much as I needed her. When they finally handed her to me, I didn’t waste a second—I turned to the delivery nurse and asked, “When do we latch?” That was the one exercise I had longed for, the sacred first moment between mother and child.
  • Becoming a mom for the first time at 38 had been my dream for years, but no one warned me about the emotional rollercoaster. I felt overwhelmed, lost, and yet somehow stronger than I’ve ever been. One of the biggest blessings during this time has been having my sister by my side. Her calm presence during delivery and the first few days helped me navigate the chaos. And then there was the hospital staff—kind, patient, and reassuring. My delivery nurse in particular became an anchor for me, gently reminding me that every mother-baby journey is different.My daughter has never willingly latched onto the breast on her own.
  • From the first moment we tried with the delivery nurse, she has always had a hard time attaching herself to the breast and feeding to her fill. I have always had to try and encourage her and sometimes force her, and the results are mostly negative. She pushes, screams, turns her head away, and rarely does she feed. If she does, I am lucky if it lasts for more than two minutes. This was the strangest thing I had ever seen. A newborn who doesn’t know how to breastfeed? Unheard of! What was wrong with my baby, I wondered. Does this mean there was a deep-rooted issue I was supposed to be concerned about? The nurse checked for a lip tie; there was none. She did not know why latching was seemingly difficult either. I later found out that my daughter had developed a habit of sucking her tongue in the womb, which made latching a challenge.
  • Watching her try, get frustrated, and cry made me feel helpless. There were moments when I even thought, “Does she not like me?”—an irrational thought, but postpartum hormones and sleep deprivation have a way of twisting your emotions.It has been weeks of trying. Sometimes I try with every feed, but sometimes I just let her feed in peace. You know how they say that a mother and child are connected in a way that when the baby is hungry, the mother knows even if she is miles away? It is true. I do feel the letdown, and a minute or two later she wakes up ready to feed. How I wish she would give me a chance to nourish her directly from the source. She does get fed, but using the bottle. Pumping every how many hours to ensure there is abundance is not how I pictured our mealtimes. It is more devastating because this was not something I had anticipated or even considered as a possibility.
  • Every time I see a mother breastfeeding, whether in real life or in pictures, I say to myself, “Must be nice.” Other times I read from mothers saying they chose not to breastfeed for their own valid reasons, and I wish God would trade our preferences. Is there something God is teaching me through this? I have always stated that one of my spiritual gifts is patience, and I wonder if God is testing it. If so, I wish He would test me using something else and not my baby. As protective as I am of my daughter, it hits differently.
  • The judgment that is coupled with ignorance from the world doesn’t help either. They say I am refusing to breastfeed because I am too afraid of the pain, or that I want to maintain a certain physique or that I don’t want to be stuck to the baby every time she wants to feed. I have run out of energy to explain myself all the time; I am done trying to convince them that I am indeed a mother who is trying hard. All I want is for my girl to look at me as she feeds, to hear the swallowing sound from her throat, and to cradle her for her feeds.I will keep working on it. I will not give up yet.
  • We are working with lactation nurses who are very helpful, and I trust we will get there. Sometimes she gives me hope when I try a little too long and she just gives in, maybe too tired from pushing me away, or maybe too sleepy to fight. I am believing that one day, she will realize that I am not torturing her but rather loving her. My mothers and sister have all been supportive in this whole period. Not only in ensuring we have all we need and that they are available when we need help but also rescuing my daughter from me when I try to push the limit a little too far and she gets frustrated. Slowly, with God given patience, and prayer, it will happen for us.
  • Whenever I feel like giving up, I hold onto Isaiah 40:31 — “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” I take this verse personally. I am walking, I am learning, I am loving—and I am not alone.

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