Michelle and J

This post is from Michelle, who is also the second-prize winner of the launch contest. The comment contest and third prize are still open, so stick around and send your stories.

I knew from the moment I found out I was pregnant that I would breastfeed my son, J. I read all the books and even wore breast shells for months before delivery to correct my inverted nipples.

But after an unplanned C-section, I began my breastfeeding experience with the frustration of being numb from the ribs down. Because I was barely able to hold J, a nurse helped us with our first feeding, positioning my breast with one hand and cradling J's head with her other while I just stared in amazement.

I wish the hospital's other staff members had been so gentle and understanding. The postpartum room where I spent the next five days was a constant parade of doctors, nurses, cleaning people, food service workers, not to mention family and friends. Just as I would get J to my breast, someone else would come in to check my blood pressure, replace a dressing, take J's temperature, or just generally disturb our efforts with their presence. When my husband would post a "please do not disturb" note on the door, we'd get even more intruders -- well-meaning but oblivious nurses and family who came in with a cheerful but tear-inducing "Just making sure everything is OK."

If there is one thing I wish I'd known about breastfeeding ahead of time, it is the persistence and toughness needed to defend the learning space a mother and infant need to get used to each other's bodies. My greatest advice would be: Don't assume that your hospital and its staff, nor your family and friends, will be aware or tolerant of the special requirements of learning to nurse.

Even though we birthed at a hospital regionally known for its lactation support services and received plenty of technical information on nursing, I was surprised and frustrated at the lack of emotional support or at least understanding I was given. Family and friends just wanted to see and hold J, not realizing that sometimes it could take 45 minutes to get a feeding right, and that it would be much easier to get that feeding right without a set of impatient relatives huddled around the TV obviously waiting for us to finish.

Even the lactation consultants in the hospital drove me into utter frustration, giving me opposing advice from one shift to the next and criticizing improvements I felt we were making. One LC recommended that I rub J's jawline to keep him awake and sucking; the next day a different LC told me "babies don't like that" and pulled my fingers away from his face, even as the trick appeared to be working. After the third day I just began nodding at them and telling them we were fine -- even though we were far from adept and I was full of questions -- just so they would go away. And, although I made it clear in writing and verbally that J was not to be given a pacifier, the one night I allowed him to be taken to the nursery for a couple hours so I could sleep (I lay awake the entire time waiting desperately for them to bring him back to me), he came back with a pacifier in his mouth.

Once we were home, things improved as we fell into a more natural rhythm. I still faced guilt and pressure from family who I could tell were annoyed at the amount of time I spent huddled away with J learning how to nurse. We were probably practicing nursing 50 percent of the day and night. This was unpleasant for family members who had traveled to see us, but I kept at it through the guilt, unwilling to compromise anything related to J's needs.

At two weeks, J started screaming and turning away from me as I tried to nurse him. My confidence was completely shaken. Terrified he would be malnourished, I started pumping and giving him an occasional bottle each day. This was a mistake as he then came to expect the bottle. At my doctor's advice I stopped all bottles and just kept on trying to get him to eat. This was the most critical and frightening period of our nursing experience. But, with persistence, we made it through. Trial and error and a great deal of patience paid off in the end, and now at four months we run together like a finely-tuned machine.

Today, I work full time, pumping for J during my shifts and nursing him when we are together. I am fortunate to have a private office with a locking door, which makes pumping easier. I simply put a "do not disturb" note over the keyhole (in case the cleaning staff should think I am not in my office and enter with the master key) and pump while I work on the computer.

For working moms, breastfeeding is not at all convenient. I have to schedule pumping around meetings (or vice versa) and sometimes pump in my car or other awkward spaces. Despite this, I know that giving J my milk is the best thing for him. Pumping also allows me to continue to nurse him in the evenings and on weekends, which is time together I absolutely cherish.