Breastfeeding. Besides birthing my daughter, it has been the most rewarding, most difficult thing I have ever done. I never questioned if I would breastfeed or not. I always knew I would. I read everything I could about it and met with a lactation consultant while I was still pregnant. I was confident that I could work through any problem, but was still afraid something would go wrong or I just couldn't do it. I heard so many women tell me why they quit breastfeeding, usually after a few days or weeks. Most of them said it was because they didn't make enough milk, but I got the impression that they just didn't want to do it anymore and it was easier to blame nature. I didn't hear any stories about breastfeeding being easy or even enjoyable, which scared me but also prepared me. I stressed over pacifiers and became so fearful of "nipple confusion".
Maxine was born with quite the appetite, but she had a lazy latch and would fall asleep almost as soon as she got a boob in her mouth. She was also very jaundice and didn't respond to the bili treatments the first day. She was not peeing or pooping, which was concerning. Her doctor suggested supplementing with formula after each feed to try to get her to poop, which would get the bilirubin out of her system. I decided in that moment to stop stressing out about pacifiers and bottles and even formula. If she needed a little to get better, then that's what I was going to do. So after each feeding, Pat got to feed her a little formula which he enjoyed. We only had to do it a few times because my milk came in. The nurse brought me manual pump and said that if I could pump some of my milk, we would just give her that instead of formula. Say no more! I turned into a pumping machine. The nurses and lactation consultant were impressed with my milk-making skills. Max got better and we finally went home. But once we were home, she suddenly wouldn't latch anymore. She would scream when a boob would get near her face as if I were torturing her. I cried and cried and cried and cried and she cried and cried and cried. When she would refuse, I would pump and she would take the bottle just fine. I continued to try some more, but eventually gave up. I became a slave to my pump. Pat ran to the store and bought an electric pump, and we pulled out all the bottles. This was it...I was just going to pump. I was a little sad, but still determined that she would get my milk. If this was how she was going to get, then so be it. It was the most exhausting thing ever. I would pump while she ate. I stressed over having enough ready for her. I woke up throughout the night to pump. We had to warm a bottle every time she was hungry. This was not how I thought my breastfeeding journey would go. I had moments where I wanted to give up. I asked Pat once if he would be disappointed in me if I quit. He told me honestly that he would be, but that it was my decision and he knew how much I would regret it if I did. He was right. I persevered. One night, Max woke up hungry and I didn't have any milk for her. She was screaming, so I rushed to the kitchen and mixed a bottle of formula (we had some samples that hospital sent home with us). I looked at the bottle and it didn't even look like milk...not like my milk anyway. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I dumped it out and ran back to my pump and within seconds, I had enough to satisfy her while I pumped more.
Maxine was 5 weeks old to the day, and I had been exclusively pumping for her for nearly a month. My phone rang. It was the lactation consultant calling to check on me and see how breastfeeding was going. I told her about the problems, and she offered to help see if Max would re-latch if we wanted to come in. I told her I would come see her in a few days. I had read that re-latching was rare and didn't have high hopes, but I was willing to try. Max woke up hungry a few minutes later, and I thought I would give it a try. She did it! She re-latched and ate for what seemed like forever! I cried and cried. I even took a picture to mark the moment. Then I called Pat crying telling him what had just happened. He was so excited too. Then her next feeding, she nursed again. I cried again. I called Pat again. I called the lactation consultant the next day, told her the good news, and cancelled my appointment. In the weeks that followed, I think I only pumped a few times to make back-up bottles that rarely got used. I gave up on making a stockpile and packed away my pumps for good. I gained so much respect for the women out there that exclusively pump for long periods of time. I honestly don't know if I could have done it much longer.
The first few times we went in public after the re-latch, I used a nursing cover. I had been used to bottles, so I wasn't quite sure what to do. I was not going to nurse in a bathroom or my car or anything, but I felt like I should use a cover. Well, I did that maybe 2-3 times! I was trying to hold a crying, hungry baby, wrestle a cover over us, finagle my boob out, and get her latched while trying to keep the cover over us. I felt like the cover was a flag that I was waving letting everyone know what I was doing. Needless to say, I gave up on the cover real quick. I got so quick at popping the boob out and the baby on, that you wouldn't even know what I was doing. I wore a tank top under my shirt and felt very modest. I use to joke that I didn't care if people saw my boob, but I didn't want them to see my belly!
Breastfeeding only got easier and easier. I still don't know how I made it through those first weeks without giving up. I am so proud of myself and of Max. I am proud of Pat for his support, his honesty, his encouragement. I became more and more confident as the months went on. I found myself being a bigger breastfeeding advocate than I ever thought. I had realized all the misinformation and lack of information that is available to new moms. I had experienced how easy it is to give up when formula is so readily available. I credit my success to my shear determination and support from people around me (especially my husband).
My initial goal was 6 months. I felt like if I could breastfeed for at least that long, I would be okay with whatever happened after that. Six months came and went, and I couldn't imagine doing it less than a year. We decided to get pregnant again when Maxine was 9-10 months old. That way, if my milk dried up after a few months, we would have made it to a year. I thought that when Max turned one and we gave her cow's milk, she would wean fairly easily. Wrong! She hated cow's milk and almond milk and coconut milk and chocolate milk. We tried it all. But she did start nursing less and less which was good because it was draining me (literally). I was pretty sick the first trimester and wasn't eating much. Between Max and the baby, they were taking everything out of me. I was becoming tired of breastfeeding. I was ready for it to be over. I kept hoping that Max would wean before the new baby came. As the months went on, I started researching tandem nursing, as it was becoming a real possibility. I was not going to just cut her off, and I didn't know how I would be able to gently wean her without a replacement milk. I researched non-dairy options for toddlers because I knew there were kids out there with allergies or diet restrictions and wondered what they used. It was very complicated with supplements and vitamins and such. Ugh. I didn't know what I was going to do. But Max slowly started nursing less, and soon became day weaned. She only wanted to nurse in the evenings and in the middle of the night. Then it became every 2 or 3 nights.
It was the middle of the night on a Saturday when she nursed for the last time. That Sunday, I gave her some chocolate milk and she drank the whole glass. I was elated! There were a few times when she asked to nurse and I would just offer her some cow's milk instead and she was fine. The only time it was hard, was when she got hurt and came to me to nurse. I knew it would make her feel better, but I wanted to teach her that I could comfort her in other ways too. It worked and she got over it quickly. It has been a week and half now, and we are both doing great. I am 6.5 months pregnant, and it is nice to have my boobs back for a few months. She chose when she done (with only a little help from me). I was ready and so was she. My boobs never once got engorged or sore, which let me know my body was ready to be done too. She was 16 months and 1 day old the last time she nursed. It is probably just a coincidence, but since she weaned, she has really blossomed. She is talking and climbing and becoming more expressive than ever. She is doing something new every day. I think she feels like a big girl now and is really finding her independence. I am so, so, so proud of my journey. I am proud of my body, my spirit, my baby, my husband.
Maxine was born with quite the appetite, but she had a lazy latch and would fall asleep almost as soon as she got a boob in her mouth. She was also very jaundice and didn't respond to the bili treatments the first day. She was not peeing or pooping, which was concerning. Her doctor suggested supplementing with formula after each feed to try to get her to poop, which would get the bilirubin out of her system. I decided in that moment to stop stressing out about pacifiers and bottles and even formula. If she needed a little to get better, then that's what I was going to do. So after each feeding, Pat got to feed her a little formula which he enjoyed. We only had to do it a few times because my milk came in. The nurse brought me manual pump and said that if I could pump some of my milk, we would just give her that instead of formula. Say no more! I turned into a pumping machine. The nurses and lactation consultant were impressed with my milk-making skills. Max got better and we finally went home. But once we were home, she suddenly wouldn't latch anymore. She would scream when a boob would get near her face as if I were torturing her. I cried and cried and cried and cried and she cried and cried and cried. When she would refuse, I would pump and she would take the bottle just fine. I continued to try some more, but eventually gave up. I became a slave to my pump. Pat ran to the store and bought an electric pump, and we pulled out all the bottles. This was it...I was just going to pump. I was a little sad, but still determined that she would get my milk. If this was how she was going to get, then so be it. It was the most exhausting thing ever. I would pump while she ate. I stressed over having enough ready for her. I woke up throughout the night to pump. We had to warm a bottle every time she was hungry. This was not how I thought my breastfeeding journey would go. I had moments where I wanted to give up. I asked Pat once if he would be disappointed in me if I quit. He told me honestly that he would be, but that it was my decision and he knew how much I would regret it if I did. He was right. I persevered. One night, Max woke up hungry and I didn't have any milk for her. She was screaming, so I rushed to the kitchen and mixed a bottle of formula (we had some samples that hospital sent home with us). I looked at the bottle and it didn't even look like milk...not like my milk anyway. I couldn't bring myself to do it. I dumped it out and ran back to my pump and within seconds, I had enough to satisfy her while I pumped more.
Maxine was 5 weeks old to the day, and I had been exclusively pumping for her for nearly a month. My phone rang. It was the lactation consultant calling to check on me and see how breastfeeding was going. I told her about the problems, and she offered to help see if Max would re-latch if we wanted to come in. I told her I would come see her in a few days. I had read that re-latching was rare and didn't have high hopes, but I was willing to try. Max woke up hungry a few minutes later, and I thought I would give it a try. She did it! She re-latched and ate for what seemed like forever! I cried and cried. I even took a picture to mark the moment. Then I called Pat crying telling him what had just happened. He was so excited too. Then her next feeding, she nursed again. I cried again. I called Pat again. I called the lactation consultant the next day, told her the good news, and cancelled my appointment. In the weeks that followed, I think I only pumped a few times to make back-up bottles that rarely got used. I gave up on making a stockpile and packed away my pumps for good. I gained so much respect for the women out there that exclusively pump for long periods of time. I honestly don't know if I could have done it much longer.
The first few times we went in public after the re-latch, I used a nursing cover. I had been used to bottles, so I wasn't quite sure what to do. I was not going to nurse in a bathroom or my car or anything, but I felt like I should use a cover. Well, I did that maybe 2-3 times! I was trying to hold a crying, hungry baby, wrestle a cover over us, finagle my boob out, and get her latched while trying to keep the cover over us. I felt like the cover was a flag that I was waving letting everyone know what I was doing. Needless to say, I gave up on the cover real quick. I got so quick at popping the boob out and the baby on, that you wouldn't even know what I was doing. I wore a tank top under my shirt and felt very modest. I use to joke that I didn't care if people saw my boob, but I didn't want them to see my belly!
Breastfeeding only got easier and easier. I still don't know how I made it through those first weeks without giving up. I am so proud of myself and of Max. I am proud of Pat for his support, his honesty, his encouragement. I became more and more confident as the months went on. I found myself being a bigger breastfeeding advocate than I ever thought. I had realized all the misinformation and lack of information that is available to new moms. I had experienced how easy it is to give up when formula is so readily available. I credit my success to my shear determination and support from people around me (especially my husband).
My initial goal was 6 months. I felt like if I could breastfeed for at least that long, I would be okay with whatever happened after that. Six months came and went, and I couldn't imagine doing it less than a year. We decided to get pregnant again when Maxine was 9-10 months old. That way, if my milk dried up after a few months, we would have made it to a year. I thought that when Max turned one and we gave her cow's milk, she would wean fairly easily. Wrong! She hated cow's milk and almond milk and coconut milk and chocolate milk. We tried it all. But she did start nursing less and less which was good because it was draining me (literally). I was pretty sick the first trimester and wasn't eating much. Between Max and the baby, they were taking everything out of me. I was becoming tired of breastfeeding. I was ready for it to be over. I kept hoping that Max would wean before the new baby came. As the months went on, I started researching tandem nursing, as it was becoming a real possibility. I was not going to just cut her off, and I didn't know how I would be able to gently wean her without a replacement milk. I researched non-dairy options for toddlers because I knew there were kids out there with allergies or diet restrictions and wondered what they used. It was very complicated with supplements and vitamins and such. Ugh. I didn't know what I was going to do. But Max slowly started nursing less, and soon became day weaned. She only wanted to nurse in the evenings and in the middle of the night. Then it became every 2 or 3 nights.
It was the middle of the night on a Saturday when she nursed for the last time. That Sunday, I gave her some chocolate milk and she drank the whole glass. I was elated! There were a few times when she asked to nurse and I would just offer her some cow's milk instead and she was fine. The only time it was hard, was when she got hurt and came to me to nurse. I knew it would make her feel better, but I wanted to teach her that I could comfort her in other ways too. It worked and she got over it quickly. It has been a week and half now, and we are both doing great. I am 6.5 months pregnant, and it is nice to have my boobs back for a few months. She chose when she done (with only a little help from me). I was ready and so was she. My boobs never once got engorged or sore, which let me know my body was ready to be done too. She was 16 months and 1 day old the last time she nursed. It is probably just a coincidence, but since she weaned, she has really blossomed. She is talking and climbing and becoming more expressive than ever. She is doing something new every day. I think she feels like a big girl now and is really finding her independence. I am so, so, so proud of my journey. I am proud of my body, my spirit, my baby, my husband.