This is a lengthy post I wrote in February about breastfeeding. This was just a couple weeks before we completely weaned. It may be TMI, but I wish I had read something this real when we were starting out. It didn’t come easily to me, and if I can help just one other woman decide to give it a little more time, then sharing my story is worth it.
We didn’t breastfeed today. She slept in, and I took the opportunity to go straight to breakfast. We had been doing just the one morning feeding for a month or so now, and that was already killing me. I’m so emotional. I’m happy, because I don’t have to plan my day around my boobs, and I can drink all the coffee I want again (finally!) But, this thing I wanted to do for my child, this sacrifice I made for her, is coming to an end. What I used to dread, I’m going to miss.
I didn’t worry too much about breastfeeding when I was pregnant. For one thing, I thought it was weird. I knew it would be best for my child, but a liquid coming from my boob just sounded so strange, and I didn’t really want to think about it. Secondly, it’s a natural thing, so I assumed it would just click.
Having her early threw me for a loop. I had eaten chili the night before my water broke… ya know, you’re not supposed to eat before a c-section… so when I got back into the room after having her, I was so sick from the anesthesia. They gave her to me and I held her, then they told me I needed to try to nurse. Poor [hubby] has the memory forever etched in his brain of me holding [baby girl] on one side, trying to get her to latch, and me puking into a barf bag on the other side. I was so so sick. And I was so so tired. We had barely slept, I had just had a tiny human cut out of of me, and I was exhausted from retching. I felt bad, but I was so selfish, I really did not want to try to nurse. The lactation consultant is telling me to make a sandwich with my breast? What? Can I sleep now please?
The next few days weren’t much better. [Baby girl] had interest in trying to nurse, but we weren’t doing so great. And no one told me how much breastfeeding HURTS. The lactation consultant kept telling me that the latch “looked good”, but also that it shouldn’t hurt if we were doing it right. Bull crap. It hurt so bad. Finally a nurse came in and asked how it was going one day, and I expressed concern about getting blood in the baby’s mouth, because my breasts were so incredibly cracked. She looked so sympathetic, called me honey, and asked if I had any lanolin. Lano-what? No…. she brought me a tiny tube, and at the moment I seriously thought it was the best thing ever invented. I’d read blogs and birth stories, talked to other people vaguely about breastfeeding, seen ads for “nipple cream”, but I was in no way prepared for why it was important to take care of your nipples. Ouch.
I felt so bad at the hospital and later when we got home, I dreaded feeding my poor baby girl so much. I would put it off as long as I possibly could. In the hospital, the nurses would come in and fuss at me for letting her go so long without eating. But, I was sleeping, she was sleeping… do I have to? At home, it wasn’t any better. I would have frequent emotional breakdowns from the guilt of not wanting to feed my child. For at least a couple of months, I really was miserable. It made it worse that she was so little, and the nurse practitioner we were seeing at the time wanted me to feed her even more often than I already was – every two hours. I don’t know how we got through that, neither of us got any sleep. She would take so long to nurse, I’d barely get 30 minutes of rest in before we had to start all over again. I was exhausted. The pain that accompanied those first few months was excruciating. I would get these sharp pains, like hot knives, radiate up my breasts frequently. I felt like I kept heat on them as often as I could, especially at night. Also, after I finished breastfeeding, I would get the worst chills. The first time it happened was at the hospital, and I thought I was coming off some of the strong medicine they had given me or something. I had violent shivers and just felt like I would never be warm again. That continued for a while after I got home, and I still do it from time to time. During this time of pain and dread of feeding my own child, I gave myself a goal of six months. If I could just last that long, that would be good. But, six months came and went, and I felt sort of proud of myself. We had made it that far, and didn’t show any signs of stopping.
Somewhere around 3 months, something happened. I’m not sure if it was because she grew and her mouth got bigger and she could finally latch better, or what, but it got better. We finally got to where we could nurse and I didn’t feel like I wanted to die. However, she still took FOREVER. It’s just been in the last 3-4 months that she really cut back. Our normal feeding sessions were always at least 30 minutes, most of the time more. We were at a funeral, and [hubby’s] cousin had her baby there as well. We both were in the nursery at church nursing, and I kid you not, her daughter ate like 5 minutes on each side and then they left. I was sitting there a little jealous and a lot in disbelief. Why does my kid take at least three times as long?!
Going back to work was kind of pointless because of how long it took her to eat. According to my app, her average was about 4 hours of eating time a day. And that was strictly mouth to nipple time, that didn’t count the burping and distractions in between. I had a full part-time job of just sitting. Isn’t that a ridiculous amount of time? I got literally nothing done. [I had a super distracted baby who would unlatch at the tiniest noise or movement, so multi-tasking was always out of the question.]
Of course, I would so do it all again in a heartbeat, misguided expectations and mental breakdowns included. We figured it out, created a bond that only could have come from breastfeeding, and I truly believe it was what was best for her. It was so hard, and so very painful, but now I’m going to miss it.
After I started writing this, the next day she threw a fit when she woke up until I went to the chair with her and nursed. I don’t think she’s quite ready to give it up yet, and frankly, I’m not either. I never would have thought that we’d still be doing this at 13 months. Pregnant me sure wouldn’t have believed it, because she thought a few months of that weirdness would be good enough. New mother me wouldn’t believe it either with all the pain she went through. But, here we are ❤
As I said, we only went a few more weeks after I wrote this. It’s still weird to me how much breastfeeding consumed my thoughts and my time, and now I never have to give it a second thought. As miserable as I was, and as strange as it sounds, I miss it. Being a woman is so weird sometimes.
Also, in case this needs to be said, I’m not suggesting anything I did or didn’t do is best for anyone else. I realize that I’m super fortunate to have a flexible job I can do mostly from home, and an amazing support system that picks up my slack. I’m simply telling my story in hopes that it encourages someone else!
coffeemamabogie 