Don’t Ask Me If I Am Breastfeeding

As we continue our focus on breastfeeding, today’s blog is brought to you by Marianne, who shares her journey of a breast cancer diagnosis, pregnancy and the emotions around not being able to breast feed.

Don’t Ask Me If I Am Breastfeeding.  

In 2016, I was diagnosed with primary breast cancer. I discovered through the journey that I was a carrier of the BRCA2 gene mutation. I was 26, at the beginning of my career and did not know if I wanted to have children or not. I was advised to have a mastectomy on my cancerous side, and I chose to have a preventative mastectomy on my non-cancerous side. The aim was to leave me with no breast tissue whatsoever.  

 

Fast forward to 2020, it is Covid, and my partner and I decide to try for children. To our surprise, we were quick to conceive and before I was really prepared, I was faced with a nine month countdown to our first child.  

 

At first, I was all consumed with excitement and anticipation. But then something strange happened, the tears started, and I found myself so aware of the absence of my breasts. I remember taking a deep breath and telling my partner that I thought I was experiencing a second wave of loss for my breasts. I became anxious about every encounter with my medical team. I felt like everyone would expect me to want to talk about breastfeeding, and I told my partner that I had a real concern that I might become angry with people who brought up breastfeeding to me.  

 

Together, my partner and I attended my next midwifery appointment. I shared my concerns with the midwife who listened and helped me feel like I could work through my anxieties. The midwife put ‘do not discuss breastfeeding’ in multiple places on my notes. We discussed it being as obvious to staff as a safeguarding alert.  

 

It did the job. No one in the medical team discussed breastfeeding with me throughout my entire pregnancy. I moved through the tears by speaking to my partner and my closest friends about how I was feeling. I know all those mental health leaflets which say “talk about it” sound infuriating, but it honestly works!!

 

By the time I got to the end of my pregnancy, I felt so comfortable with my circumstances and fully focused on the joys of having my first baby. The absence of breasts was far from my mind.  

 

It still was not a straightforward road. I wanted to take part in the NCT classes but decided against it knowing that there was a whole section on breastfeeding, and I did not feel that I could manage that emotionally.  

 

I also found that with every new mum I met, breast cancer hung over me like a cloud. I wanted to be free of that part of my past but with breastfeeding being (rightfully) such an anxious part of becoming and being a mum, it is a conversation that cannot be avoided. It was frustrating to explain my circumstances as it brought such a weighty conversation with it, and not sharing that ‘I am bottle feeding because I have no breasts’ would be plain lying. I think there is something here about societal expectations being that you would at least try breastfeeding. I chose to make few friends. What I found out was sharing my circumstances was a much bigger deal to me than it was to others and actually, I ended up being the person to console anyone who needed bottle feeding advice.  

 

I remember being sat outside the consultant’s room once and a huge poster about breastfeeding was there in front of me. That brought some feelings up for me. But only briefly. Again, I doubt these posters are designed with breast cancer patients and BRCA carriers in mind.  

 

I now, gratefully, have two healthy children. The feelings I have described above about breastfeeding did not occur in my second pregnancy. I made the same requests about alerts on my medical file, but I felt so much more ‘matter of fact’ about the whole thing than I did in the first pregnancy.  

 

I am confident I made the right decision for me back in 2016. It suited me aesthetically and emotionally at the time and still does now. It has been a journey to process the impact of that decision but for me, it was the right decision. My babies are healthy and that is the best gift of all.