On Breastfeeding-My love/hate relationship with my boobs

Here we are rounding up the 9th month of Elinor's "outside" life. It still boggles my mind that she's been outside, now crawling and nearly walking as long as she was inside of me, growing still. She's learned so much in the past few months that she is practically a whole new person from that little 5 lb. peanut that made her appearance in February. I've almost forgotten what a little newborn feels like now that I have this bubbly, roly-poly personality. I have to wrestle her now to change her or dress her. She eats just about anything I put in front of her (as a good growing foodie should)! She is insatiable! And she is still nursing!

I think it's important in this day and age where our culture doesn't fully support or encourage breast feeding to talk about my experiences, good and bad. I read a lot of books, listened to a lot of advice from people I trusted. I got as much information as I could as anyone should when making such a personal decision. You should too.

I always knew that I would breast feed when I found out I was pregnant. It was a non-negotiable issue. Nothing could compare to the nutritional and emotional value that breast feeding gives to not just my baby, but to me as well. I figured I would nurse until she weaned herself, which I silently hoped was no more than a year. My own husband claims to have been nursed till he was two years old. Upon first hearing this, I was a bit appalled. It seemed too long and seemed to explain his "needy" issues. I remembered a Toni Morrison book where one of the characters nursed her son til he was twelve and it was, at the time, a major gross out. Now I routinely hear of mothers nursing til three, four and even five and it only fazes me slightly. I apparently was done with nursing by nine months my mom tells me, too interested in food. With Elli, it's hard to see a close to this relationship we have anytime soon. Part of me is glad for it and part of me wish it would end already.

Ok, more to the story. There are the pluses of nursing-that warm, fuzzy, sleepy feeling you get when snuggled with your babe, looking into each other's eyes, that intense connection that I love every time we nurse. Knowing the nutritional benefits of breast milk outweigh those of any formula. The ease at which one can feed your baby, without the fuss of heating up bottles, buying formula, etc. The part which my husband loves to say-"Just give her the boob!"

Now here is where I start to waver on my lactivism. Because I provide this sustenance for my child, it has made it harder for Andrew to bond with her, at least the first few months. He's had enough trouble grappling with the becoming a father thing so whenever she would cry, he copped it to his inabilities to provide her with the one thing she always wanted: boob. Then there's the issue of when I'm not around, when I've gone back to work: the issue of pumping. Since Elli was born a month early, my relationship to the pump began earlier than even my nursing relationship with Elli. She couldn't nurse right away because of her initial troubles with breathing so to make sure my milk came in and established itself, I didn't get to nurse her right away. My first "nurse" was with the pump. The week she stayed in the hospital I would visit and try and nurse her as much as possible, but the jaundice and the antibiotics made her sleepy so she was more likely to take a bottle (thankfully of my pumped milk). Finally at home we began nursing wholeheartedly. And it hurt! For the first few weeks, I'd cringe when she would latch on, thinking there must be something wrong. I was surprised at how tedious it was, the whole routine. How spaces of 20-40 minutes would eat up my day of just nursing. I would dread sometimes when she would begin crying again for her next feeding, thinking, "Not now, not yet." And then, just like all the books and advice said, after 12 weeks, it was like no big deal. Breast feeding was quite enjoyable.

Now back at work, I have to pump ideally when I would be feeding her, usually at least twice in the day. As a substitute teacher, my schedule is different everyday. One day I could be teaching 2nd grade the next 7th grade science. I never know when I'll have a break or how evenly my breaks will be spaced out. I pump in the bathroom, not always the cleanest spot. It takes me at least 15-20 min to set up, pump, and clean everything up. Often I get about 10 minutes to eat lunch. I seriously don't know how actual teachers do this as this eats into prep time too. I feel hurried and tired and stressed. It's not a break for me. Honestly it feels like a whole lot of pressure to make enough milk to provide for the next day. I haven't got much in the way of a back supply so it always feels like I'm not producing enough. By the time the weekend rolls around and I'm with Elli all the time, I don't want to pump. I'd rather her nurse as often.

As for nursing in public, I thought I would be nervous to do so. I soon became adept at discreet nursing. Always carried a scarf or blanket and wore at least two layers of clothes. Now Andrew jokes at how I'm always pulling my boob out. We can sit and have a lovely dinner out, all three of us. I've never had anyone say anything to me about breastfeeding in public. I think it has more to do with the area we live in but I've been in other places, malls, parks, restaurants and I've never had a problem. Probably oblivious to the stares. It certainly make feeding her easy. Nevermind that it's completely LEGAL.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh right, reflecting on potentially nursing for another year. Yes, there are times when I wish I wasn't so depended on, when I'd like my body back. When I could put away the pump for good. When she would fall asleep without nursing.

But she's only this way for so much longer. I'll miss it soon enough.