This week M-Dubb turns 7 months. It's not one of those "time flies" things. We've just gotten here. Sometimes in the midst of the craziness that is this semester I wish time flew faster, but that's fodder for another post. Today I want to talk about nursing, but before I start, let me acknowledge that I know everyone is different--not everyone produces enough milk, for instance. With that in mind, here's my side of the story:
I love nursing, I didn't always love nursing, but M-Dubb and I have trodden a rough road and gotten to a place that works for us. This week, I realized just how much I have grown to enjoy the moments I share with my baby because I didn't have quite enough milk. I was already late to go meet Jeff on campus and M-Dubb would not be satisfied. I decided to whip up some formula or else risk being late and unprepared for my 1 pm class. My tears welled as he gulped. He ended up only drinking an ounce, and I haven't had to supplement since, but during the feeding, I was reeling. I'm not ready to wean him! I had suspected as much when I'd considered it a few times over the past few weeks, but it wasn't until this moment that I realized exactly how much I'd grown to love it.
What a far cry from where we started. He had come out of the womb sucking like a champ. He wanted to nurse, and he knew what he needed to do. The problem was he did it so well. I never bled or cracked, but there was blistering and, oh, so much bruising. I cried, yelped, and stomped my foot in pain every time he latched. I only kept going because I was convinced by others' conviction that the breast was best. At two weeks, I called my mom sobbing that I just couldn't do it anymore. She convinced me that it was ok to quit, and my lactation peer-counselor said the same thing. Everyone has to do what it right for them. But, I didn't want to feel like a quitter. I had enough milk and I wanted him to have it. Ok, and in all honesty, I didn't want to pay for formula, and I wanted the help in weight loss. So, my decision to try one more time wasn't perfectly selfless.
I have to say that I've felt God's love and help in my role as a mother, especially those first few weeks. What happened after my tearful decision was next to a miracle. I hadn't ever taken off my Fred Meyer nursing bra since the hospital (I was trying to avoid the sagginess, but now I know that was inevitable...). After prayer, meditation, and talking it out, I had the thought come to me, "Take off your nursing bra." I'm not saying this will help everyone who's having trouble nursing, but it sure helped me. I felt an immediate difference. It still stung, but the excruciating pain subsided. I called my mom elated. I'd done it! It wasn't all perfection from then on, but it gave me enough hope to keep trying. It was still a long road until 2 months, when it didn't hurt anymore, but it ended up being worth it for me.
I have a certain brother who doesn't understand women who don't get pain medication during labor. I'll probably get this wrong, but I believe his response is along the lines of, "What do you want, a gold star?" When I gave birth without pain medication, I did give myself a mighty pat on the back, but that was all I really expected. But, in the midst of the darkest part of learning how to nurse, I sure felt like what I was doing was harder than my "natural" childbirth. Day in and day out I chose pain, and when I crossed the finish line of the ordeal with a great Hallelujah!, I sure felt like a deserved a gold star and a trophy.
So for all of you out there who kept nursing (especially those of you who had to pump), here's your gold star. Here's your public shout-out, praise, and awards ceremony. You did it. You are amazing. And I admire you.
