Breast feeding - a love story?
The first time I ever fed my son was about a half hour after he was born. It was amazing how he knew what to do, although seeing his little tiny face pressed up against my comparatively enormous chest was a bit worrisome. Was he going to smother himself? No. Was he gonna try? Definitely.
Everyone told me that if I could make it past two weeks, I would be good to go - that it would take that long for my milk to come in, and then it would be "easy".
I spent the following two weeks feeding my jaundiced baby every 2 hours, trying to flush out the bilirubin from his overtaxed system and turn him back to pink from sickly yellow.
Having a newborn ravenously suck on your nipples every two hours around the clock for weeks (ahem, not just two) is awful. Yet every time my mom was over, she watched us jealously, proclaimed her love of breast feeding, and told me time and time again that it is the best feeling in the world.
Right. Tell that to my sore boobies.
Within a few weeks, things did calm down. He started to sleep a bit more at night, so I could give them 3 or 4 hours rest, though in the day it was still about every two hours. I stopped having to slather myself with Earth Mama's nipple butter, which was great on the boobs, but not so great on my clothing. My milk really established itself.... a bit too well.
Suddenly, I had a very gassy uncomfortable baby on my hands. Sure, he was growing leaps and bounds (today, at almost 5 months, he is over 20 lbs and wearing 9 month clothing), but he was NOT happy. Wriggly, wiggly, and farty, to say the least. And heaven forbid he sleep through the night, because if I did not wake up halfway through to pump off my milk, I felt like I was sleeping on basketballs.
The lactation consultant informed me that I had too much milk and a strong "let down". Well, great. Every time I fed my poor kiddo, he was choking and sputtering and coughing AND because he was getting so much foremilk, it was too sugary and not fatty enough and it was giving him gas.
Oh, so that is why I spent one evening walking around my town with him in a moby wrap.... both of us crying.
They instructed me to pump off an ounce or two before every feeding, or, just let it dribble off into a burp cloth. Ever try to pump while feeding? Or, better yet, pump while your child is screaming because they are hungry? And sure, if you are home, you have access to your pump, but it is not so easy to whip out in the mall or at your friend's house or while sitting around with the in-laws.
We are at 6 to 8 weeks at this point.
When I asked the lactation consultant how long it would take before I had less milk, she responded, "Oh, a few weeks". A FEW WEEKS?! A few weeks with a gassy baby? Awesome. Nothing makes you feel better than the high pitched squeal of a baby with gas pains when you can't do jack squat about it. Sure, run their legs, rub their belly, bounce them, put them on their tummy... but at the end of the day, they have to fart. You can lead a horse to water...
I also was starting to try to store milk for day care. Apparently, the more you feed, the more milk you make. The less you feed, the less you make. But when you are trying to save milk, you have to pump off what is leftover... which makes you breasts make more... which throws you down a deep dark cycle of a fart-tastic baby.
Yet, time moved on. We dealt. I learned that my son cannot tolerate it when I eat greek yogurt. Oops. Or sugar cookies. Or gravy. Or chinese food.
He farted, he pooped, he continued to grow from my breast milk, despite it being "too sugary".
Somewhere between 3 and 4 months, things started to change. He was sleeping through the night pretty early on (yay for hitting critical mass!), and I stopped having to pump off before feeding him. My breasts stopped hurting (though they still sometimes are painfully ginormous after he sleeps through the night). We fell into a rhythm and FINALLY he goes 3 hours or more in the day before needing or wanting to eat again.
And somewhere along the line, I started to actually like breast feeding. Don't tell my mom, but I might even love it.
There is something, dare I say, magical about the fact that not only have I kept my son alive for these 5 months, but I have GROWN him. Everything he is, every single cell in his body, has been created because I sustain him. People see his chubby cheeks, cankles, chins, and arm rolls and say, "Wow, he must be well-fed". Usually, you do not see a breast fed baby looking like that. But my boy is. And it is because of me. And I apologize if it seems self-absorbed or like I am tooting my own horn. Sorry - I have a right to be proud of myself. The first few months sucked (no pun intended). However, I was committed to breast feeding, and I am so glad I stuck it out. It was so much pressure at first - being the only one to soothe him, being the only one who could feed him, being the one who had to be on duty, every few hours, who could never ever leave. It is not very fun, and I can completely understand why people choose not to do it, or do it for a little while and stop. 2 weeks? I would say people need to give it at least 2 months before deciding. Preferably 3 or 4.
As it stands now, aside from it being totally awe-inspiring that I am the entire reason my son is alive, breast feeding actually is really nice. It makes me laugh when I pick him up and he tries to motorboat me because he wants to eat. I love when I feed my son and his big blue eyes roll up in the back of his head like, "Oh, yeah, that's the stuff!" I love when he stops, looks up at me, and smiles, as if he forgot I was there and then suddenly realizes that, hey, mom is here! I love when he unclenches his fists, sighs, and completely relaxes into me. I love when he falls asleep on my lap with a little bit of milk dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. I love that it makes me stop, relax for 20 minutes or so, and just enjoy US - mother and baby. I can stare at him and watch him and hold his hand and rub his head... it is just really wonderful.
Here we are rounding month 5 and we are already preparing to move on to the next adventure - real food. It is bittersweet. I am so excited for my son to taste new foods and to have fun exploring new sensations. I am not so excited about the mess... but bigger than that is my sadness that he is not going to need me quite so much in that capacity as we go forward. I know that my kiddo will rely on me in so many ways for a long time, but it is sad to think he is already starting to assert his independence when he was just a squalling infant yesterday. I will continue to breast feed him for awhile, I am sure of it. But soon he will be eating all on his own. My luck, all he will want is ketchup like his daddy. Blech.
So, for me, I guess I have to say that breast feeding is a challenge. A commitment. An adventure for two. A love story.
I fully understand why people choose not to do it. And, now that I am back working full time, pumping at work is time-consuming, difficult, somewhat embarrassing, and downright annoying. I can see why people stop. But if you are out there, reading this, and you are not sure what choices you are going to make... heed my own mother. If you give it a real chance, you will probably grow to love it and cherish that time with your baby, as I do mine.
Everyone told me that if I could make it past two weeks, I would be good to go - that it would take that long for my milk to come in, and then it would be "easy".
I spent the following two weeks feeding my jaundiced baby every 2 hours, trying to flush out the bilirubin from his overtaxed system and turn him back to pink from sickly yellow.
Having a newborn ravenously suck on your nipples every two hours around the clock for weeks (ahem, not just two) is awful. Yet every time my mom was over, she watched us jealously, proclaimed her love of breast feeding, and told me time and time again that it is the best feeling in the world.
Right. Tell that to my sore boobies.
Within a few weeks, things did calm down. He started to sleep a bit more at night, so I could give them 3 or 4 hours rest, though in the day it was still about every two hours. I stopped having to slather myself with Earth Mama's nipple butter, which was great on the boobs, but not so great on my clothing. My milk really established itself.... a bit too well.
Suddenly, I had a very gassy uncomfortable baby on my hands. Sure, he was growing leaps and bounds (today, at almost 5 months, he is over 20 lbs and wearing 9 month clothing), but he was NOT happy. Wriggly, wiggly, and farty, to say the least. And heaven forbid he sleep through the night, because if I did not wake up halfway through to pump off my milk, I felt like I was sleeping on basketballs.
The lactation consultant informed me that I had too much milk and a strong "let down". Well, great. Every time I fed my poor kiddo, he was choking and sputtering and coughing AND because he was getting so much foremilk, it was too sugary and not fatty enough and it was giving him gas.
Oh, so that is why I spent one evening walking around my town with him in a moby wrap.... both of us crying.
They instructed me to pump off an ounce or two before every feeding, or, just let it dribble off into a burp cloth. Ever try to pump while feeding? Or, better yet, pump while your child is screaming because they are hungry? And sure, if you are home, you have access to your pump, but it is not so easy to whip out in the mall or at your friend's house or while sitting around with the in-laws.
We are at 6 to 8 weeks at this point.
When I asked the lactation consultant how long it would take before I had less milk, she responded, "Oh, a few weeks". A FEW WEEKS?! A few weeks with a gassy baby? Awesome. Nothing makes you feel better than the high pitched squeal of a baby with gas pains when you can't do jack squat about it. Sure, run their legs, rub their belly, bounce them, put them on their tummy... but at the end of the day, they have to fart. You can lead a horse to water...
I also was starting to try to store milk for day care. Apparently, the more you feed, the more milk you make. The less you feed, the less you make. But when you are trying to save milk, you have to pump off what is leftover... which makes you breasts make more... which throws you down a deep dark cycle of a fart-tastic baby.
Yet, time moved on. We dealt. I learned that my son cannot tolerate it when I eat greek yogurt. Oops. Or sugar cookies. Or gravy. Or chinese food.
He farted, he pooped, he continued to grow from my breast milk, despite it being "too sugary".
Somewhere between 3 and 4 months, things started to change. He was sleeping through the night pretty early on (yay for hitting critical mass!), and I stopped having to pump off before feeding him. My breasts stopped hurting (though they still sometimes are painfully ginormous after he sleeps through the night). We fell into a rhythm and FINALLY he goes 3 hours or more in the day before needing or wanting to eat again.
And somewhere along the line, I started to actually like breast feeding. Don't tell my mom, but I might even love it.
There is something, dare I say, magical about the fact that not only have I kept my son alive for these 5 months, but I have GROWN him. Everything he is, every single cell in his body, has been created because I sustain him. People see his chubby cheeks, cankles, chins, and arm rolls and say, "Wow, he must be well-fed". Usually, you do not see a breast fed baby looking like that. But my boy is. And it is because of me. And I apologize if it seems self-absorbed or like I am tooting my own horn. Sorry - I have a right to be proud of myself. The first few months sucked (no pun intended). However, I was committed to breast feeding, and I am so glad I stuck it out. It was so much pressure at first - being the only one to soothe him, being the only one who could feed him, being the one who had to be on duty, every few hours, who could never ever leave. It is not very fun, and I can completely understand why people choose not to do it, or do it for a little while and stop. 2 weeks? I would say people need to give it at least 2 months before deciding. Preferably 3 or 4.
As it stands now, aside from it being totally awe-inspiring that I am the entire reason my son is alive, breast feeding actually is really nice. It makes me laugh when I pick him up and he tries to motorboat me because he wants to eat. I love when I feed my son and his big blue eyes roll up in the back of his head like, "Oh, yeah, that's the stuff!" I love when he stops, looks up at me, and smiles, as if he forgot I was there and then suddenly realizes that, hey, mom is here! I love when he unclenches his fists, sighs, and completely relaxes into me. I love when he falls asleep on my lap with a little bit of milk dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. I love that it makes me stop, relax for 20 minutes or so, and just enjoy US - mother and baby. I can stare at him and watch him and hold his hand and rub his head... it is just really wonderful.
Here we are rounding month 5 and we are already preparing to move on to the next adventure - real food. It is bittersweet. I am so excited for my son to taste new foods and to have fun exploring new sensations. I am not so excited about the mess... but bigger than that is my sadness that he is not going to need me quite so much in that capacity as we go forward. I know that my kiddo will rely on me in so many ways for a long time, but it is sad to think he is already starting to assert his independence when he was just a squalling infant yesterday. I will continue to breast feed him for awhile, I am sure of it. But soon he will be eating all on his own. My luck, all he will want is ketchup like his daddy. Blech.
So, for me, I guess I have to say that breast feeding is a challenge. A commitment. An adventure for two. A love story.
I fully understand why people choose not to do it. And, now that I am back working full time, pumping at work is time-consuming, difficult, somewhat embarrassing, and downright annoying. I can see why people stop. But if you are out there, reading this, and you are not sure what choices you are going to make... heed my own mother. If you give it a real chance, you will probably grow to love it and cherish that time with your baby, as I do mine.
posted by FireWithin at 10:36 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home