A Tale of Nursing

To all my male readers: You are excused from reading this post.  Unless you really want to, but don't say I didn't warn you.

Andrew lost weight at his last doctor's appointment. His weight has been teetering at the edge for the last two and causing me a bit of worry.  My kids are short.  I understand that, but to go from gaining 3 or 4 pounds a visit to gaining a half a pound and then losing a pound usually signifies something else is happening.

Talking with the doctor, we narrowed it down to one thing: a reduction in my milk production.  I had a feeling this was happening.  Andrew has been waking up a couple times at night absolutely famished.  Considering he usually sleeps through the night, this was a bit odd.  I understood this could be due to a growth spurt, but he wasn't getting any bigger.

My doctor suggested I start supplementing.  I was devastated.

I have a love/hate relationship with breastfeeding.  In the first few months, it hurts horribly.  I crack and bleed and nothing soothes my throbbing breasts.   I cry and push my feet into the ground until the baby is latched, then I clench my teeth the entire feeding.  I develop serious tension headaches because the stress.

Why do I continue?  Because I give myself a goal after each baby is born: if I still hate it by month 3,  I will stop.  Somehow this goal gives me the stamina to continue.  That and my pride.

Once the pain subsides (around month 3),  I begin to enjoy it a little more.  Around month 5,  it starts hurting again.  For 2 weeks out of the month, it is painful and I, once again, cry during feedings.  I persist because by that point, my babies will not take a bottle.

I enjoy the bonding moments my babies and I share during those 10-20 minutes, but I don't love breastfeeding.

However, when I realized my milk production was decreasing, I was disappointed.  I have sacrificed so much to continue breastfeeding and it seems so...unfair to have this happen.   And I fought.  I tried to feed Andrew more, tried drinking and eating a little bit more, but it still wasn't enough for my poor little guy.

It was then that I realized that breastfeeding was something I thought I could control.  It seems natural that I would produce something that keeps my baby happy and healthy.  The practice was, in many ways, defining me in my motherhood.  I felt cheated.

Until I realized my goals were warped.  Raising a healthy baby should be my first priority and if I must combine nursing with supplementation to achieve this? Then so be it.

It makes me wonder what other priorities I need to readjust.