I felt the gush of water down my cheeks as I walked down the stairs. By the time, I got to my car, I couldn't see anymore; tears had flooded my eyes. The cry of my baby boy was still vivid and it felt like someone was ripping my heart apart. He wanted to nurse, but I had to go to work. He didn't want a piece of rubber in his mouth; he wanted his mother! I had pumped and saved milk before returning to work, and I felt pretty good about that. I never expected this wasn't enough! It started like a joke. First time, he rejected the bottle and I was so confused. When he kept rooting towards my chest, I knew he was definitely hungry. I put him on my breast and he nursed away.
Now I was driving to work, crying and asking myself why on earth would I take care of others' kids when I couldn't even breastfeed mine. It was so hard! I wiped my face, got to work and checked my schedule. No patients yet. Still feeling upset, I knew I only had a few minutes to "fix" myself so I went to my confidante, also a mother. It wasn't long before she knew something was wrong and I broke down in uncontrollable sobs. She gave me a hug and started praying for me. I heard her asking God for strength and I realized that I definitely needed that. I realized that it's hard to be a mother...especially a working one in America. My maternity leave lasted 8 weeks, 2 weeks more than the average time in several residency programs. Boy, was I naive to think that would suffice! But that's the norm in America. While our counterparts around the world nurture their babies from 6 to 12 months, we're rushing to work after 6 to 12 weeks. We have effectively numbed ourselves to our babies' feelings and their innate needs...in order to meet demands of society! My little one was acting perfectly normal and not being able to oblige broke my heart.
Dedicated to all (working) mothers...
