My breastfeeding story
Another one from the archives, originally published in 2011:
When I planned to breastfeed my son, I really had little to no idea what to expect. Most of my peers bottle fed after a few weeks and I’d heard horror stories of pain and discomfort and not being able to produce enough milk. I attended a breastfeeding tutorial as apart of my antenatal course but the only plan I really had was to go with the flow and see what happened. I suffered a dreadful depression in my pregnancy and I doubted my ability to feed my son as well as doubting my capabilities as a mother in general.
After an enormously long labour and assisted delivery, my baby lamb was put to my breast and miraculously latched on with little assistance. The first few days in hospital were a blur – remember they kept me in because my son wasn’t feeding properly, though I can’t really remember any serious problems other than he slept for a long time the first night, and so would I, if I’d been on a journey that took six and a half days! In the middle of one long night, when I couldn’t comfort him, the nurses took him away and gave him a bottle. To this day I am so very cross about that, but at the time I was fragile and lets face it, you trust nurses.
The first few weeks following the birth I stayed at my Mums house and it went by in a blur of sleeplessness and seemingly constant feeding. My nipples were cracked and sore and I seemed to be a big sweaty zombified milk machine – constantly leaking all over the place. I’d stay up feeding and reading, not daring to go to sleep whilst my son was latched on because I’d heard horror stories of squashed babies, and because when I had accidentally drifted off in hospital, I was roused by the screeches of a nurse, who had frightened the living daylights out of me with her reprimands for daring to sleep with my baby. It was so hard to fight the urge to sleep – every time I fed, I seemed to be overcome with the same kind of comfort and drowsiness that my son so obviously felt.
Back at my house the round the clock feeding continued and the first three months became a blur of feeding, sleeping, nappies. Trying to do ‘normal’ things like shopping and making a cup of tea and seeing people had suddenly become ever so complex and every time I planned to leave the house he seemed to want a feed. My boobs were enormous and heavy and became increasingly painful and every time he wanted milk I inwardly wanted to cry and cry. It wasn’t until the tell-tale red lines of mastitis appeared that the doctor gave me some antibiotics to ease my agony.
I had no support from is father – on the contrary, he told me I was breastfeeding just to spite him, and that I should wean my son onto bottles. When I fed my son, his dad would look at me with unreserved disgust, as if I had just exposed my private parts in public. It wasn’t just him either, I had other comments such as ‘you’re not going to do that in here are you?’ as if I had just squatted down to wee on the carpet or something. Rather than put me off though, these comments fuelled my inner strength to carry on with my breastfeeding because I knew in my heart that what I was doing was a wonderful thing for my son, giving him the very best start in life.
Our breastfeeding journey has continued, and at eighteen months I sometimes get raised eyebrows again, and a feeling that people think I am spoiling my son, or making him dependent on me, or that I’m going to raise an adult asking for ‘bitty’. I have wavered, because as strong as I may be, comments do sink in just a little bit. The fact of the matter though is that at the moment, my son loves his mummy milk, his face lights up with joy if I mention it and he will stop whatever he’s doing and make a beeline for them. When he is sad or hurt it soothes him. When he is tired it helps him sleep. When I have forgotten to bring a snack for him, I have a nutritious meal under my bra. I have never had to get up in the night to make bottles, I have never had to sterilise or worry about finding the money for expensive formula milk and the healthy start vouchers have instead gone on fresh fruit and veg. We did end up sleeping together,and as a single mum I think that breastfeeding helped me enormously with the night feeds – if he woke, I just whopped one out and fell back to sleep. I don’t think I’d have been ale to cope otherwise with the sleeplessness. I had a few weeks of soreness when the teeth appeared but it didn’t last long.
I am very grateful to breastfeeding week because I have been wondering ‘what next’, and reading all about extended breastfeeding has given me peace of mind that what I am doing is still a wonderful thing for my son, that it will help him become healthier, more sociable and intelligent. Already he seems to be generally healthier than other kids his age and he is so happy and confident and so very rarely cries. He has never been sick since he got past the regurgitation stage and he’s had a handful of little colds but he is remarkably resilient and copes better than I do with illness. This could just be his character, but I like to think that my magic milk has helped and will continue to benefit him until he decides to wean himself, whenever that will be. My body has somehow managed to produce precisely the right nutritional mixture for my son, and that is something I find incredible, and awe inspiring.
Breastfeeding is a magical, incredible experience and if anyone would like help or support from an ordinary mum, feel free to email me.
A brilliant website that I was reading today is: http://www.kellymom.com/
If you would like to win an Emma Jane nursing bra, click here: http://smilinglikesunshine1.blogspot.com/2011/06/emma-jane-nursing-bra-giveaway.html (This blog also contains the link above, as well as other breastfeeding links)
Please also check out this wonderful site with numerous breastfeeding tips and guides: http://babychangingstation.com/breastfeeding/
When I planned to breastfeed my son, I really had little to no idea what to expect. Most of my peers bottle fed after a few weeks and I’d heard horror stories of pain and discomfort and not being able to produce enough milk. I attended a breastfeeding tutorial as apart of my antenatal course but the only plan I really had was to go with the flow and see what happened. I suffered a dreadful depression in my pregnancy and I doubted my ability to feed my son as well as doubting my capabilities as a mother in general.
After an enormously long labour and assisted delivery, my baby lamb was put to my breast and miraculously latched on with little assistance. The first few days in hospital were a blur – remember they kept me in because my son wasn’t feeding properly, though I can’t really remember any serious problems other than he slept for a long time the first night, and so would I, if I’d been on a journey that took six and a half days! In the middle of one long night, when I couldn’t comfort him, the nurses took him away and gave him a bottle. To this day I am so very cross about that, but at the time I was fragile and lets face it, you trust nurses.
The first few weeks following the birth I stayed at my Mums house and it went by in a blur of sleeplessness and seemingly constant feeding. My nipples were cracked and sore and I seemed to be a big sweaty zombified milk machine – constantly leaking all over the place. I’d stay up feeding and reading, not daring to go to sleep whilst my son was latched on because I’d heard horror stories of squashed babies, and because when I had accidentally drifted off in hospital, I was roused by the screeches of a nurse, who had frightened the living daylights out of me with her reprimands for daring to sleep with my baby. It was so hard to fight the urge to sleep – every time I fed, I seemed to be overcome with the same kind of comfort and drowsiness that my son so obviously felt.
Back at my house the round the clock feeding continued and the first three months became a blur of feeding, sleeping, nappies. Trying to do ‘normal’ things like shopping and making a cup of tea and seeing people had suddenly become ever so complex and every time I planned to leave the house he seemed to want a feed. My boobs were enormous and heavy and became increasingly painful and every time he wanted milk I inwardly wanted to cry and cry. It wasn’t until the tell-tale red lines of mastitis appeared that the doctor gave me some antibiotics to ease my agony.
I had no support from is father – on the contrary, he told me I was breastfeeding just to spite him, and that I should wean my son onto bottles. When I fed my son, his dad would look at me with unreserved disgust, as if I had just exposed my private parts in public. It wasn’t just him either, I had other comments such as ‘you’re not going to do that in here are you?’ as if I had just squatted down to wee on the carpet or something. Rather than put me off though, these comments fuelled my inner strength to carry on with my breastfeeding because I knew in my heart that what I was doing was a wonderful thing for my son, giving him the very best start in life.
Our breastfeeding journey has continued, and at eighteen months I sometimes get raised eyebrows again, and a feeling that people think I am spoiling my son, or making him dependent on me, or that I’m going to raise an adult asking for ‘bitty’. I have wavered, because as strong as I may be, comments do sink in just a little bit. The fact of the matter though is that at the moment, my son loves his mummy milk, his face lights up with joy if I mention it and he will stop whatever he’s doing and make a beeline for them. When he is sad or hurt it soothes him. When he is tired it helps him sleep. When I have forgotten to bring a snack for him, I have a nutritious meal under my bra. I have never had to get up in the night to make bottles, I have never had to sterilise or worry about finding the money for expensive formula milk and the healthy start vouchers have instead gone on fresh fruit and veg. We did end up sleeping together,and as a single mum I think that breastfeeding helped me enormously with the night feeds – if he woke, I just whopped one out and fell back to sleep. I don’t think I’d have been ale to cope otherwise with the sleeplessness. I had a few weeks of soreness when the teeth appeared but it didn’t last long.
I am very grateful to breastfeeding week because I have been wondering ‘what next’, and reading all about extended breastfeeding has given me peace of mind that what I am doing is still a wonderful thing for my son, that it will help him become healthier, more sociable and intelligent. Already he seems to be generally healthier than other kids his age and he is so happy and confident and so very rarely cries. He has never been sick since he got past the regurgitation stage and he’s had a handful of little colds but he is remarkably resilient and copes better than I do with illness. This could just be his character, but I like to think that my magic milk has helped and will continue to benefit him until he decides to wean himself, whenever that will be. My body has somehow managed to produce precisely the right nutritional mixture for my son, and that is something I find incredible, and awe inspiring.
Breastfeeding is a magical, incredible experience and if anyone would like help or support from an ordinary mum, feel free to email me.
A brilliant website that I was reading today is: http://www.kellymom.com/
If you would like to win an Emma Jane nursing bra, click here: http://smilinglikesunshine1.blogspot.com/2011/06/emma-jane-nursing-bra-giveaway.html (This blog also contains the link above, as well as other breastfeeding links)
Please also check out this wonderful site with numerous breastfeeding tips and guides: http://babychangingstation.com/breastfeeding/
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