The Hike I Wasn’t Prepared For… and How It Reminded Me Of Breastfeeding

​I don’t hike. I don’t even walk as much as I should. I’m 63, overweight, and out of shape.
But when your out-of-state kid invites you to see the giant trees in Sequoia National Park, you say,
“heck yeah,” book the hotel, and get ready for some fun. 

And then you realize… you’re not prepared.
I had everything else handled—office closed, lodging booked, you know, all the logistics—but not the actual hike.
No real research, no planning. Just showed up with some water, snacks and warm clothes.  We checked in
the hotel and then made it up to their campsite to have dinner and decide when and where to meet for the
hike the next day. 

Nature being what it is, 'unpredictable' the weather decided to play a late spring trick and rained overnight
where we were, but that meant fresh snow where we were going. We woke up Tuesday morning came and I
put on my hiking clothes; layers, pants with lots of pockets (that matchy-match Mr Lactation!), hiking boots
and my wool socks.  Off we went to the meet spot. 

The Trail
It started on a steep downhill; on ice and snow (remember that weather trick). When my kiddo
offered their crampons to me (think snow chains for your shoes) being the stellar mom that I am, it didn't
take much convincing  to say yes.  Without those crampons, I would have been sliding straight into a
meet-and-greet with the local first responders. The crampon kept me steady and supported.
We made it to the General Sherman Tree, took it all in, and could have turned back like many do. But we didn’t.
The kids chose the Congress Trail—about three miles of rolling ups and downs. Manageable, but still work.
At one point, Mr. Lactation was behind me pushing on my tooshy to help me up the hill. 
There were beautiful moments—trees, streams, birds—and uncomfortable ones too. Snow fell from the
branches above, stinging as it hit. My nose ran, my glasses fogged, my clothes got wet.
Still, I kept going. And I was proud of that. Albeit, there was a lot of my sarcastic complaining! 
It's just my genetics. What can say.

The Climb
Remember the downhill at the start of the hike?  Well, at the end, it was all back up that hill.
Not a gentle incline—a climb.
It hurt. My breathing was labored. The borrowed walking stick from my sons partner became essential.
Step by step, with some catch your breath breaks, I made it. 
And I’m proud of that—every bit of my 63-year-old, out-of-shape jiggly self did the hike one step at a time,
and I didn't fall, break bones or quit.

The Breastfeeding Connection

So, how does this connect to my job and yours as a parent?
Throughout the day, I couldn’t help but see the parallels.

Preparation Matters
I didn’t prepare for the hike itself—and I see this often with breastfeeding.
Families prepare for baby, prepare the nursery, take birth classes, but most do not prepare for feeding. 
I often hear things like:
“I thought it would come naturally.”
“I read a book.”
“I got the free pump…”
Then baby arrives, and reality hits.
Connecting with an IBCLC before delivery can change that—setting real expectations, offering guidance,
and helping you choose what actually works. Not an influencer that may be compensated by the company
that they are promoting.   If nothing else, it gives you a life line and makes that call for help so much easier. 
Better yet, these prenatal consults are often covered by your insurance.

Support Makes the Difference
Those crampons stabilized me when the path was slippery. The walking stick helped on the uphill climb.
They both  supported me when it was needed. 
In breastfeeding, tools like a nipple shield, or a practicing breast rest and pump can do the same—offering
support when things aren’t going smoothly. It’s not failure; it’s using what helps you to keep going.  Sometimes
that support includes  supplementation- again, not failure.  

Every Journey Counts
Some people hike to the first big tree and turn back.  That's what most people come for, the General Sherman
Tree.  There are some that don't make it out of the parking lot.  That's ok too, there's a lot to see there, benches
to sit on and some informational posters.  Others go on the trails beyond the big trees. Breastfeeding is like
that, you may stay in the parking lot, or perhaps go a bit further and see General Sherman, or even push
further on a trail.  Some families breastfeed for a short time—days or weeks— others for months or even years. 
Brag about it, be happy.  It's yours. 

The Ups and Downs
Breastfeeding, like that trail, has both.
The sweet moments—milky smiles, late-night snuggles, tiny hands—are the flowers and streams.
The hard moments—exhaustion, frustration, long nights—are the snow falling from above and thumping you
on the head.  There's take aways from both.  Often, using whatever your method is like my  sarcastic
complaining can push you through the hard times. 
​
The Hard Climb
And then there’s the uphill. For many this includes;
Postpartum mood changes. Exhaustion. Figuring out this new little person that relies on you for everything.
Learning your new role as a parent and partner. Returning to work. Even weaning can be difficult for some. 
At the end of the day, we can only do our best with the knowledge and tools we have.   Lean on those
around you, like I did with Mr. Lactation.  This too is where having an IBCLC before delivery can be your
crampons and walking stick when the trail is slippery and unpredictable. 


YOUR Journey

Breastfeeding is a journey.  Your journey.  Not your friends, your mothers, your aunts, or social media
influencers.  Yours and yours alone.  Filled with ups and downs, easy days and some pretty tough ones. 
Build your support team early, as in before delivery. Be humble enough to ask for help when needed. 
​Take pride in your accomplishments.  Celebrate the wins. Take time to mourn the loses if you have them. 
And, at the end, you get to say, like I did, "I made it".