Thursday, January 17, 2013

Our Breastfeeding Journey

The goal was three months. I would breastfeed Luke for three months, and hopefully in those three months, pump enough milk to bottle feed him with breast milk for the next three months. Then he would wean from breastmilk (I guess I told myself that overnight one night he would just decide that he was done), and we would be on solids. Simple as that. That was the plan.

Before I had my son, I was faced with deciding whether or not I would breastfeed. There was a time in my life that I can vividly remember saying "hell no, I won't breastfeed. That's disgusting." Ahhh.....it makes me angry at my former self to think that I ever felt that way. But I also feel relieved that I was able to come to my senses. And so I decided, as I said above, that I would breastfeed Luke for a few months.


Luke was born on a Monday evening. He latched right away and we were off on our breastfeeding journey. My milk didn't come in until Friday. Wow, did that suck. Flu-like symptoms and a massive rush of hormones left me crying uncontrollably in bed on that otherwise beautiful May day for four straight hours. My husband looked at me like I had grown horns and polka dots. I kept on feeding Luke though, because that was the plan. Looking back on it now, I think he had a shallow latch. Because every time I fed him, for the first two weeks of his life, it was toe-curling pain. Literally toe-curling, teeth-gritting pain. It lasted for about 15 seconds and then subsided. Every. Damn. Time. I didn't know any different. I thought that was normal. After the first two weeks (and some lovely scabs), it got better.

Luke ate like a champ, although he didn't eat the way the books said he would. He never really wanted to nurse for 15 minutes on one side and then switch to the other side like he was "supposed to." Nope. He wanted to eat for 5-10 minutes on one side and then he was done. I think he was bored of laying in one spot. But we slowly got the hang of it. It wasn't what I had expected, but it was working for us. Luke wanted to nurse every 2 hours all day and night. There were some nights that he slept for 4-5 hours at a time, but they were rare. Most of the time, Luke was eating every 2 hours. (And, at 8 months, he still is...) But, he would only eat for 5-10 minutes and then he was done. So it wasn't awful. I had planned to feed him on demand, and that's what I did.
So days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into a month. The pain had subsided, although the leaking hadn't. (That was a bullshit sweet part of breastfeeding that nobody had really talked about.) The leaking. I remember it fondly. Cotton reusable nursing pads? Might as well have used them to wipe my ass. Because they did NOTHING to keep my girls from leaking. I ordered some bamboo reusables that worked much better. But even though I wasn't leaking through my shirt as much, I still had to wear these pads. Constantly. In my bra. Yuck.

One month turned into two. And two months turned into three. And there I was, on August 14th, three months after Luke was born, asking myself what in the fuck heck I was thinking when I decided that I would breastfeed for three months and then bottle feed with pumped milk for the next three. Because, you see, I had barely spent any time pumping at all. Why would I? I had since learned about the supply and demand of breastfeeding. The more baby eats, the more your breasts will produce. Well in the beginning, the last thing I needed was to be making more milk. I was feeling dairy-cow-ish enough as it was with the every two hour feedings. So I didn't bother to pump. Occasionally I did, but surely not enough to have a stash for three full months of feedings. And the few times that I did pump, and Luke was given a bottle, were awful. He chewed the nipple of the bottle. He spit it out. He drooled milk all over himself. He cried. He squirmed. He swatted at the bottle. It was a circus. We felt like why even bother?! And after he got a bottle, the next time I breastfed him was a joke. It took one or two feedings to get him back into the swing of things. Totally not worth it.

And I didn't care. Because I actually enjoyed breastfeeding Luke. It had become so much more than a way to fill up his little belly. There is an emotional aspect to breastfeeding that isn't as publicized as the nourishment part. Also, Oxytocin is released and the uterus contracts when you feed your child from the breast. (Yes, I loved being back in my old clothes 6 weeks after giving birth). It made me happy that when he was fussy, I could comfort him by myself. And it was SO convenient. I could feed him anywhere, at any time, with food that was the perfect temperature and the perfect amount. In the dressing room at Target? Check. In the car on the way to Grandma and Grandpas? Check. In the front yard while we were enjoying the nice weather? Check. In the middle of downtown Chicago? Check. Breastfeeding Luke was easy. And we both enjoyed it.




My new goal became six months. I would breastfeed Luke until he was six months old, and then he would eat solids. Two plugged ducts later, November 14th arrived. Six months of exclusive breastfeeding. Not a drop of formula. Never a pacifier. Maybe 6 bottles total. So there we were...November 14th. And guess what? I was still clueless. Was Luke ready to eat solids only? Absofuckinglutely not! He gagged on oatmeal. He gagged on bananas. He gagged on sweet potatoes. And he still loved to nurse. We were nowhere near ready to wean. And I didn't care. Because I still enjoyed breastfeeding him. It was easy for us. When he was hungry, I fed him. Simple as that. The leaking was over with. The pain was gone. It was just easy and simple and the best thing I could be doing for him.

I decided I needed to make a new goal. Because three months had passed, and six months had passed. And so I did. I have a new goal for breastfeeding. And I am proud to say that my new goal is to let Luke wean when he is ready. Yep. When HE is ready. Breastmilk has every beneficial nutrient that my baby needs right now. And it changes to accomodate his needs. At least until he is one, his primary source of nutrition will be breastmilk. And we couldn't be happier. He has started eating some solids, but we are letting him guide the way with that, too. When we sit down to eat, we put some of what we are eating on his plate and let him explore it. Gradually, he has started eating more and more. Sweet potatoes are his favorite. And he is so damn cute when he picks the chunks up and puts them into his mouth. No purees, no shoving containers of food down his throat. No force feeding him strained peas and prunes and other nasty commercial baby foods. Luke is getting breastmilk whenever he wants it and so all other food before age one is just for fun.

I am proud of myself and my body. Breastfeeding has definitely not always been easy. But knowing that I am providing my child with the best start in life makes it totally worth it. Knowing that I am not feeding him some man-made chemical shit formula makes me happy. I know that Luke is healthier because he is getting breastmilk. What could be more perfect for a baby than the milk of his own mother? Nothing! So we will continue on our breastfeeding journey. It is much different than I thought it would be. And it is so much better.

Monday, January 14, 2013

Babies Deserve Better

I realized something today. Something that has been working itself up to the surface of my consciousness for some time now. Something that I really and truly with every fiber of my being, believe in. I just haven't been able to truly come to terms with it until today. I wasn't ready for it then. But I am now.

I believe there are right and wrong ways to parent a child. And that can be as simple or as complex as you make it. It may not be "politically correct" to say, but it's my truth. It's what I believe.

I have long said that I believe in one mountain and countless ways to the top. And part of me really believes that. The part of me that thinks that statement is great is the part of me that is focused on an individual who is caring for him or her self. Musical preferences, choices in clothing, cars or homes,
religious ideals and educational paths...there is a whole wide world of options, and I believe each individual has the free will to choose whatever they want to do, be or say in every situation. Truly, I do.

The part of me that thinks there is one mountain with one clear, "right" path to the top is the part of me that is thinking about the kids. The babies. The ones who are helpless without their caregivers. The ones who know nothing until someone teaches them, either directly or indirectly. The small people on this earth who didn't ask to be here, but who have been thrust into the world unable to care for themselves. The young individuals who cannot distinguish between their wants and their needs because they are one in the same. The little people on this planet that need to be parented the right way in order to thrive. This part of me, the one that thinks about the babies, really believes that there is right and wrong. And I am appalled at how many children are being done wrong at the hands of the very people in life who are supposed to be caring for them the most.

Let's face it. This world today is FULL of turmoil, lies, greed, wars, hatred and sadness. We can turn a blind eye to it. We can, and do, act like it doesn't exist. But that doesn't mean it isn't there. It just means we don't care enough about it to pay attention. But while we turn a blind eye to the shortcomings of our world, are we spending more time with our children? Are we doing what is in their best interests at every chance we get? Are we using our instincts to parent them properly? Are we building up their self esteem so that they aren't cut down by the evil in our world? Are we learning about what they are developmentally capable of at every age and stage? Not always. Not enough. We are too busy running around from store to store to buy the most fashionable clothes. We are too preoccupied with our smartphones and laptops and tablets. We are caught up in the rat race of working too many hours to earn just enough money to buy things that make us look happy. To pay for homes that are empty for 50 hours a week while we go to work. As a society, we are on the go constantly. And who really suffers the most? The babies.

I firmly believe that there is a right way to be a parent. I am lying to myself if I continue to say that whatever way works for every individual is the right way. Because I no longer believe that. I have read enough and seen enough and listened enough and dug deep enough to know that there are wrong ways to parent a child. And I know that too many people spend too little time reading and listening and researching and learning. Too many moms just blindly listen to what their pediatrician or some random book has to say, without learning for themselves. In a world with endless amounts of choices, too many mothers are choosing the easy way or the cheap way or the popular way and in doing so, are selling their babies short.

Babies deserve better.