When ds was born, I knew I wanted to breastfeed. I didn’t realize at the time how much I wanted to breastfeed, or the emotional weight that I would place on it.
My coworkers would make jokes before I had the baby about how I was going to go from being an incubator to a cow, but dh said it best when he looked in awe at some pumped milk and said, ‘Katy, do you realize you make a drink?’ 😀
It wasn’t an easy thing for me, though. When ds was born, he had meconium aspiration (which basically means that he breathed in his first poop), and so he was put into the NICU. This was after 24 hours of labor, 4 or 5 hours of pushing, and an emergency C-section. The hospital wasn’t supportive of my breastfeeding efforts at all, and so ds had some intense nipple confusion and latch on issues, which led to incredible amounts of pain for me.
I pumped through the pain, dreaded hearing him cry for more, but refused to quit because of I had somehow equated my ability to breastfeed with my ability and capability as a mother. I had some baby blues, and so I made dh call all the women with kids in our church instead of doing it myself. (I imagine that he never thought that he’d be talking about nipple pain with so many women!)
Luckily, I was able to persevere through it all, and 10 months later we still have a happy breastfeeding relationship. (And contrary to what many women told me, he has never bitten me… even with four teeth!)
More thoughts about breastfeeding to come… but I wanted to take a minute to celebrate my ability to be the sole sustenance of my sweet baby’s life for six months, and all because… well… I make a drink!