It's A Booby Day

In my vomit-induced stupor of late, I nearly missed out on talking about 2 of my favorite things in the world: Boobs! Thanks, Lotus, for the opportunity!

My girls are suddenly facing retirement as my son just cold turkeyed on breastfeeding last week during an ear infection. I am typing this right now with cabbage still stuffed in my too-tight bra, praying for relief from engorgement. TMI? Well, click elsewhere, my friend, 'cause there is more boob talk to come!

I intended from the earliest days of my first pregnancy with my now 8 year old to nurse. It was very chic and the "right thing to do". Of course, no one in my family had ever! done it! Okay, that is obviously wrong but no one in the memorable past had so I was going to be a pioneer! a trailblazer!

Well, that was all well-intentioned but I didn't count on 2 failed attempts at induction and a c-section 72 hours later after failure to progress. I was drained- physically and emotionally. The writhing being removed forcibly from my abdomen held no interest to me. I resented it for the pain it had caused and the exhaustion that I felt. I also felt a failure. Of course, I was the first and only! member of my family to have a c-section, too.

I immediately drifted into PPD. RxMan had to make me hold the baby. I tried to nurse but she sensed, evidently, that I didn't like her and she screamed as the LC held her to my breast and encouraged me to continue. I cried. She cried. I sank further and further into the darkness of PPD.

Four days later, I gave up at the urging of my OB, who saw the cloud that hovered around me. Instead of relief, I felt this was yet another way my body had failed me. So, I bottle fed her. She had terrible trouble with formula and we switched it 6 or more times, finally settling on Alimentum, which cost $7 a pre-made quart, which she drank every day. It was very expensive to feed this child.

She then developed asthma, allergies, reflux and chronic sinusitis. Every doctor and specialist that we have seen over the last 8 years has asked the question, bottle or breast? And, knowingly shaken his head when I embarrassingly answered bottle. I hated the initial meet and greet with these know-it-alls who have never had to make the choice on how to feed a child birthed from their loins.

So, as we decided to try for a second child, I decided breastfeeding was going to happen for me this time. Come hell or high water, my choice was not going to be held over my head as the cause for hereditary ailments for another child. I began reading the minute my stick turned pink. I read books, online journals, I went to classes, I talked to people. I steeled myself for the hell that I felt I was staring down. My pediatrician kindly told me that I HAD to nurse this child. Without question. He gave me books, numbers of LCs and his wife's cell number.

No. Pressure.

I opted for a scheduled c-section. There are pictures of me with make-up, earrings and a morphine-induced smile instead of teary and bleary-eyed from being awake and having the hand of every passing Tom, Dick and Larry shoved inside my vajayjay. The boy went to breast about 15 minutes after delivery. He loved nursing.

In the hospital things seemed okay. He was interested. We had latch issues but I thought I could persevere. We went home. It went downhill. I called the numbers. I went to the appointments. We got the latch fixed.

Then he started nursing all day long. Now, I don't mean cluster feeding. No, I mean this child nursed for 6, 7, 8 hours at a time. When he wasn't nursing, he was screaming. And I was crying. I quit wearing shirts, I just moved from the toilet to the chair with a robe, undies and a bra on. My boobs bled, cracked and ached. I knew I was thisclosetobreaking.

My husband took me to the LC and we discovered that my supply was inadequate. He had only gained 4 oz. in 12 days. Red flags! Scary words! Starving my baby? What? All I have been doing for 2 weeks is feeding it!

So, onto formula he went. Yep. But mixed with breastmilk this time. So, I started taking fenugreek and blessed thistle. I ate oatmeal. I guzzled water. I pumped 24/7 for 6 weeks straight. I thought happy thoughts of milk flowing from my breasts as the LC told me to. I did all the stuff they said.

And, thank God, it worked this time. After those six weeks, we went back to 100% breastmilk. And after about 5 months, my little buddy refused the bottle; only the breast for him.

We successfully nursed until the day he turned 14 months old when he decided it was time to quit. I am proud of sticking it out but MY GOD it was hard.

11 Months

I never imagined that today, the day I mark my son's 11th month on earth, I would be told to stop breastfeeding. When I awoke this morning and showered and went about all of the things which are normal for me, I didn't even consider the fact that his pediatrician would recommend I wean him.

In a lot of ways, the idea of weaning The Conqueror is a relief. I have been his sole source of comfort for the majority of these last eleven months and that, as so many of you know, is exhausting and wears on a person. And, yet...

Breastfeeding did not come easy for us. Baby + Breast = frustration! My milk was slow to come in- glacially slow- and then I had issues of low supply. He latched poorly. It hurt really badly. But, we persevered and, finally, finally!, it worked and then it was the easiest and most natural thing I had ever been a part of.

So, today, at his doctor's visit, RxMan and I were describing the way he has been waking up and screaming with pain in the night and then having really bad gas. After some questions, the doctor said it was likely lactose intolerance. To make a long story short, my milk produces lactose and his little body can't digest it, thus the gas and pain. So, after some more questions, he said that since he nurses so infrequently and for such short times, I should just wean him.

Of course, it is ultimately my decision. I can ignore the doctor's advice if I so choose. I am torn, though, because a part of me would be relieved to be finished with the nursing. I am a little tired of being the only one he wants and of being a human pacifier at 2 AM. On the other hand, though, I really enjoy the closeness that nursing provides, particularly now that he is mobile. It is often the only time he is content to be still.

I have a decision to make and I am torn. I had wanted to end the breastfeeding at my choosing- or his. I guess what I really wanted was to keep him little forever but that can't happen, I know. I don't know what I will do. I want him to sleep- desperately- and I want him to feel better. Weaning will/would occur sooner than later at this point anyway but, still... I don't know if I am ready to close the chapter on this episode of my little guy's babyhood.

What I do know: the little monster is walking! And I mean walking as in without holding on to anything! It is so cute- Her Highness says he looks like Frankenstein because of his arms held out in front for balance. Plus, he got his eighth tooth! And, he weighs 22lbs. 6 oz. and is 29 in. long. My little guy is perfectly healthy and wonderful in every way.... and growing up each day. sigh.

My Son Loves Boobs!

I am not a person who is very open or out there about my decision to breastfeed The Conqueror; I am not embarrassed but I am a very modest person and, for me, breastfeeding is a private, wonderful thing for my family. That being said, if you are a breastfeeding mom who chooses to do it publicly, good for you! I am not that person but do not want to take that right away from another mom who is working hard, and it can be very hard, to nourish her child.

So, this post over at A Mommy Story really got my juices going this morning. I don't know why America has no problem with Britney, Eve and the likes trampin' around showing off their breasts when a lovely, discreet photo of a mother nursing her infant gets you kicked off Facebook. Can you say RIDICULOUS!??!

Again, as I have mentioned, I am not a breastfeeding nazi. I formula fed Her Highness for a variety of reasons and it was fine. I could explain some of the reasons that I chose to stick it out with TC but the truth is I found it to be the right choice for me. At least we get to make that choice, right?

I hate how, in my family at least, the fact that I breastfeed makes me something of a strange, freakish novelty. At first, family members, would say, "oh, is it time to breastfeed the baby?" Not just feed him but breastfeed him. Whenever it was mentioned the entire group would pause and shudder. There were comments about not wanting a baby hooked to them all the time. My mom would always follow up the conversation where it was revealed with, "Tell 'em, why. Tell 'em about HH's asthma and what the doctor said."

Well, I usually did tell them what she wanted me to. But, I am tired now of sharing excuses why I breastfed my son. I wanted to: damn the asthma, reflux and other issues! For me, it was something I wanted to accomplish and, I am proud to say, I did it. It was sooo hard in the beginning but I stuck it out and, eight months later, we are still nursing successfully.

So, if you are a Facebook member, join Hey Facebook, breastfeeding is not obscene! group to show support. Thanks for listening to my rant this morning!