When I got pregnant I knew that I wanted to breastfeed. The benefits were tremendous, the time together precious and the cost unbeatable. I read the books and went to the classes, I had a vague idea of what was supposed to go down. It seemed simple enough - I have boobs (arguably), the ultrasounds show that Stella has a mouth... boob, mouth... got it.
Cut to December 22, 11:05 p.m.: tears, happiness, smiles and complete awe were everywhere. From reading the books and talking with my doctor I knew that it's best to nurse the baby within the first hour after birth. They would be hungry and you can begin to establish your milk supply right away. So that's what we did. We got into position. I thought I was doing it right, but it obviously was something I had never done. It took, I don't know, a thousand years. That's a generous estimate.
A normal feeding for us used to take an hour plus. Luckily Stella ate every three hours. I didn't understand how some babies would eat every two hours. That would mean I would have about a half an hour in between feedings. I couldn't wrap my head around that math.
I was bewildered. I was sore. You know how marathon runners get bloody nipples from their shirt rubbing on them when they run for 24 hours or however long it takes to run a marathon? It's like that. My nipples weren't used to that much attention. I advised Turtle Parade that the best way to prepare herself for breastfeeding was to flick them all day. It's one thing the books didn't really mention. You can prepare your mind but you can't really prepare your nipples. And THANKFULLY I had it a heck of a lot better than some others that I know. Its definitely mind over matter in the beginning. And anyone who attempts it is my hero.
Our pediatrician told me that once we got the hang of it feedings would only take 10 minutes. I laughed in her face. "Quit yankin' my chain, Lady. Ten minutes? I call BS. Maybe for other kids, but my kid apparently enjoys hanging out watching an hour of The Cosby Show at 4 a.m., I doubt she's gonna give that up."
But danggoneit, she was right! Somewhere around the 4-5 month mark I started noticing that feedings were getting shorter and shorter. Now, at 10.5 months, we're in and out. I wake her up at 7:30, feed her, Mike changes her diaper and clothes and we're out the door by 7:45. We've got it down to a well-oiled, efficient, calculated science. It's a phenomenal thing. It's hard to believe that it ever took as long as it did.
Breastfeeding my Stella for the last 10.5 months (and still going!) is probably the thing I'm most proud of in my life. But I can definitely understand why people quit. There are plenty of outs, countless inconveniences and worries and fears. I'm thankful that we've been able to maintain this relationship for this long. These boobs are helping keep my baby alive. If there's something cooler than that in this world, I don't know what it is.
And I gotta give a major fistbump to my pumping homies. Pumping is a whole nother animal, and post. And to those who pump exclusively for any period of time: I bow to you. I couldn't do it.
Viva la boobs!
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