{"id":790,"date":"2004-09-01T20:55:00","date_gmt":"2004-09-01T20:55:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/2004\/09\/breastfeeding-blues-not-for-the-squeamish.html"},"modified":"2004-09-01T20:55:00","modified_gmt":"2004-09-01T20:55:00","slug":"breastfeeding-blues-not-for-the-squeamish","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/2004\/09\/breastfeeding-blues-not-for-the-squeamish.html","title":{"rendered":"B*reastfeeding Blues (Not for the Squeamish)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Before Doodles was born, I took the b*reastfeeding classes, read the b*reastfeeding books, and knew that I was going to reach the magical b*reastfeeding nirvana that every pregnant woman hears about (and to avoid using that silly asterisk, I’ll just call it BF). So of course I was miserable when I had the worst time doing it. I had eight<\/i> weeks of excruciating pain. Doodles heard every curse word imaginable every time he latched on (which in those days was about eight to ten times a day). I would sit in the glider, with my wee one in my arms, and tears would just pour down my cheeks, I hurt so badly. I saw a lactation consultant, I got a prescription for APNO<\/a> (which can only be filled at a pharmacy in Cambridge), I tried the football hold<\/a>, I piled on pillows for Doodles to lay on, I used the $11 a shot Soothies<\/a>; nothing helped.<\/p>\n

I was bizarrely determined to keep at it, though. I reached a point where an OB actually told me I should consider not BFing. But when I joined my local mom’s group, I learned that a baby had died of SIDS<\/a> just a few weeks before (many of the mothers knew the baby and people were still processing it). And it terrified me. I already had some issues with post-partum anxiety, and this sent me over the top. When we had all those problems with Doodles sleeping, I felt pretty relieved to be co-sleeping, because it was easy for me to check twenty times a night to make sure he was still breathing. I read the lists of how to prevent SIDS (and I was really freaked out that Dr. Sears said co-sleeping helped prevent SIDS and other sites said the co-sleeping was a cause of SIDS) and high on every list is “BF.” So I did. I did it week by week. I told myself I’d just do it until the end of the week and then I could quit if I wanted.<\/p>\n

Right around two months, the pain went away. Completely. And Doodles and I fell into a rhythm. I wouldn’t call it nirvana. But it was pleasant. We found our groove. I was never a very discreet BFer. Some women can just sort of tuck their babies into their chest and no one can see anything. Yeah. Not the case for me. But I became comfortable with public BFing and I also appreciated being able to use BFing as an escape. When things were just a little too much, Doodles and I could escape for a while. I could BF until three months. I definitely could. And at three months, I figured I could make it to six. And at six, I wondered if I could go a whole year.<\/p>\n

One thing I did hate, though, was pumping. Pumping is tedious beyond imagination. And it really made me feel like a cow being milked. Around seven months, I decided I wasn’t pumping anymore. Doodles was on solids and was down to four feeds a day. So on Doodles’s day care days, he got two bottles of formula (four bottles a week).<\/p>\n

Around nine and a half months, Doodles decided he wasn’t interested in his daytime BFs anymore. I would put him, and he’d pop off, give me a big smile, look around, try to play a little. I’d put him back on, and off he’d go again. I’d think, “That’s odd! He’s not hungry!” After about two weeks of this, I thought, “Hmmm, he must<\/i> be hungry. Let me try a bottle.” I made him a bottle of formula and he sucked it down in minutes. So I figured not only had I been starving my child for two weeks, but he was ready to wean. I cut out the two mid-day feeds and figured I’d lose the morning and evening feed shortly after.<\/p>\n

Well, shortly after didn’t come. Doodles was as enthusiastic as ever about the morning feed and he seemed to really relax with the evening feed. How could I get rid of them?<\/p>\n

As we came up on Doodles’s birthday, though, I realized that while Doodles seemed okay with the morning and evening feeds, I wasn’t into them anymore. Let me say that I really admire women who BF their kids for years and years, but I knew that I wasn’t comfortable BFing a toddler. The idea of a child walking up to me and asking to BF just isn’t my thing. Also, Doodles was becoming very aggressive with his feeds and there was nothing sweet or romantic about it anymore.<\/p>\n

So two weeks before his first birthday, I started alternating BF nights with bottle-feed nights. He seemed to have no problems with that. And three days before his birthday, I cut out the night BF altogether. I was most worried about giving up the morning feed because it was such a part of our morning routine. Yet last Thursday he was in a terrific mood so I just asked Adam to quickly get a bottle (which can be done quickly as Doodles is off of formula and on whole milk). So Adam brought a bottle up and Doodles took it without a second’s hesitation. Every now and then, while he’s eating, he’ll put his hand down my shirt, but he’s had no problem making the switch to the bottle.<\/p>\n

Now that my chest is free of child, I have conflicting feelings. On one hand, my body is just my own for the first time in twenty-one months. But on the other, there’s something bittersweet in weaning. My little baby isn’t a little baby anymore. I miss that BFing was something that only I could do. Anyone could change his diaper or carry him or feed him solids, but I was the only person alive who could BF him.<\/p>\n

I expect to be hormonal for a bit while my body adjusts. I’m happy that I made it a year and I feel strongly about not continuing into Doodles’s toddler years. Yet I can’t help but feel a little longing for the baby Doodles was just yesterday.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Before Doodles was born, I took the b*reastfeeding classes, read the b*reastfeeding books, and knew that I was going to reach the magical b*reastfeeding nirvana that every pregnant woman hears about (and to avoid using that silly asterisk, I’ll just call it BF). So of course I was miserable when I had the worst time […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-790","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/790","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=790"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/790\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=790"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=790"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.jennyandadam.com\/Jenny\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=790"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}