I've always had a love/hate relationship with nursing. With Alex it was hard. We got a late start because they'd taken him away to stay in the nursery because of his fast breathing, and despite working with a lactation consultant during every feeding for three days before we took him home from the hospital, he never did get a good latch and my nipples basically fell off, no I'm not exaggerating, they FELL OFF! At which point I started pumping and bottle feeding the expressed milk until they healed enough that I didn't cry every time he attempted to latch.
Basically though, Alex wasn't really into it. When he was four months old I went back to work full time, pumped every 2 hours for 30 minutes in a supply closet at my office but still had to send formula with him to my mother's house because my milk supply suffered, likely due to the stress of being a new mom working a full time job outside the home. I gave up when Alex was 9 months old because after an entire day of pumping I only could produce 2 oz. FOR THE ENTIRE DAY! Alex couldn't have cared less. He didn't seem to miss the boobs one bit.
When I was pregnant with Max, I worried about whether or not I would or should nurse him. I didn't exactly have a good experience with Alex, and I didn't want the first nine months of my last baby's life to be frought with worry, anxiety, frustration and pain like Alex's were. Especially since I could easily formula feed him. I'm not one of those "FORMULA IS EVIL!" breastfeeders. I wanted to breastfeed because I felt it was a unique experience that I'd only be able to do at this time of my life.
So, Max was born, and I'd decided I'd give it a month and if it didn't work out, we'd quit, give him a bottle and everyone would be happy. After he was born and cleaned up, they handed him to me, I tentatively put him to my breast and the kid latched on like a pro! Nursed on both sides for about 20 minutes each! After nine months Alex NEVER nursed as well as Max did on his first attempt. They had to take Max away for fast breathing, just like Alex and I worried he'd forget how to do it. Then they almost killed him with an overdose of epidural medicine (WHICH SHOULD NOT HAVE EVEN BEEN AVAILABLE!!!! Grrrr...clearly I'm NOT over that yet, actually I probably never will be) and he spent the next week of his life hooked up to machines and monitors and breathing tubes and drugged up on anti seizure medications and the option to nurse him was taken completely off the table until he recovered.
I pumped every two hours like clockwork. I was determined to have a good hearty milk supply for him when he was ready for it, even if I had to give it to him with a bottle. As it turned out, I overdid it a bit because by the time he was allowed to breastfeed again, I nearly drowned him with my letdown. With the help of lactation consultants, I learned how to help him handle my overproduction and soon, my boobs learned just how much to produce and my nipples stopped acting like firehoses and Max discovered his first love: Boobies.
Nursing Max has been a completely different experience than nursing Alex. It feels natural and normal and comfortable for both of us. But now, Max is one year old, and that means it's time for him to wean and I'm feeling very conflicted about it. On one hand, it is simply time. He's eating regular food now, he can have cow's milk now, there is no added nutritional benefit to breastfeeding him. It would certainly be nice to have my own body all to myself again. To be able to have a glass of wine whenever I like, to be able to take cold medicine... But, on the other hand, he still seems very much like my baby. When I nurse him, and he's curled up on my lap, head resting in the bend of my arm, face snuggled into me, I never want to wean him. I want this feeling forever. The feeling of being his comfort.
I feel like breastfeeding Max is such a huge part of being his mother that I'm not ready to give it up just yet. I know that sounds silly, I know I'll still be his mother even without nursing him, I certainly didn't feel any difference in the realtionship with Alex when he weaned. I'm not really sure why this is so emotionally hard for me, but it is. There are people who say to go ahead and keep on nursing him. Nurse him until he's 2 or 3, until he can pull up my shirt and take my boob out of my bra himself. And while I respect those people who do that, I'm sorry, but ew. You do what you're comfortable with, by all means, but I really don't think that long term nursing is for me. Like I said, it's time to wean, I'm just sad about it.
I've decided I'll continue nursing him through the end of June. He's got an allergy test and his Tympanostomy tube surgery next week and I feel like he'll need to comfort nurse after those events. But after that, come July 1st, I hope to be able to have him off the boobs and on cow's milk from a bottle and/or sippy cup.
It all boils down to the fact that my baby, my little Maximus, is growing up. This is just the first of many things I'll miss.
No comments:
Post a Comment