As I sit here realizing that Blake’s days nursing are done, I feel slightly relieved, but mostly sad that this chapter has ended. I knew before Blake was born that I was going to breastfeed. I didn’t think I was going to, and I wasn’t going to give it a try. Giving it a try is the first step to quitting. I decided that I was going to do this no matter what and nothing was going to stop me.
Immediately after Blake was born the nurses tried to get Blake to latch on and I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. In my head he was going to open his mouth and suck. That did not happen. It took work to get him to latch on, and for days it could take upwards of 30 minutes for Blake to latch on, and another 30 minutes for him to eat. An hour later I would start that process again. I never turned people away from visiting in those early days, though maybe I should have. Some days I felt like all I did was feed Blake. Then people would come over and hold him and spend time with him before handing him back to me to eat. I wanted to spend time with him when he was not eating. I also wanted everyone to leave my house. Please don’t wait for me in my living room. You spent time with Blake and it’s going to take me an hour to feed him. I would like to do so in private because this is all new for Blake and I and we don’t need the stress and pressure of knowing you are sitting in my living room waiting for us. Then night would come and he would be up every two hours until I finally cried in exhaustion one night, “How can you be hungry again!?!?! Please don’t be hungry. Please let me sleeeeeeep!”
I suppose the feeling of literally spending 8+ hours each day breastfeeding can either be intimidating, or reason for people to quit. There were nights I woke up and proclaimed, “This is the last time I’m doing this. In the morning Blake is getting formula because I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE I’M SO TIRED.” Keith was super supportive and knew I was not serious, but he also knows me and my personality. He knew he was in no place to demand that I continue so he would simply tell me that he would support any decision I made. That’s the truth. He would have supported me no matter what. He knew I wanted to do this and I was going to make it work and he also wanted Blake to be breastfed, but he also loves me and wants the best for me, too. Of course the morning would come, (after a couple more feedings), and I was still going.
The truth is, I wanted to breastfeed and I had my mind set on one year. When Blake was born he had extremely low blood sugar due to the stress of me pushing for 2 ½ hours and the poor little guy being stuck. It was so low that the nurses had to give him some formula soon after he was born because the number wasn’t even registering when they were testing him. The nurse came in and told me she gave Blake some formula and I almost lost it. I was so emotional in general and this was not in my plan. Most things aren’t in your plan. I realized quickly enough that it was very necessary for his health. I really didn’t want to give Blake formula, but I didn’t realize how badly I didn’t want to give him formula until I smelled it. I couldn’t figure out what the weird smell was in our hospital room for the first couple days that Blake was being supplemented. Finally I said something and Keith told me it was the formula. That was the moment I decided there was no way I was giving him formula once he was done being supplemented.
The feeling of your baby eating 24/7 goes away so quickly. I remember those days, but it was such a short period of time in the scheme of things. I always think about how I would have felt if I quit in the first couple weeks. I would have stopped doing the best thing for Blake because I was tired. That feels so selfish. Not tired for the rest of my life--tired at that moment. Of course there’s the moments of, “will it ever get better!?!?” but IT DOES! It gets SO. MUCH. EASIER. And so quickly! The way I look at it, I had a decision to make. We have this awesome baby and I want to give him the best nourishment I am capable of giving him. Key word: capable. This was the first time in Blake’s little life that I was not only capable of providing him with food, but I was making a decision to put my baby before myself.
I didn’t always have it easy. When Blake was four months old I got mastitis. I was miserable and worried I would have to stop nursing Blake. My pediatrician assured me that I would be fine and I continued. I also had constant engorgement that lasted until Blake was at least 9 months old. I seriously over produced. I know there are people who don’t produce enough, or at least as much as they want to, and I was lucky to never worry about having enough milk. That being said, engorgement is extremely painful and uncomfortable and there were days that I had to teach two classes in the morning feeling like my boob was going to explode before I finally had a free period and I could run and pump. I ended up with a plugged duct on more than one occasion. The pain from that would often last for days. I don’t want a pity party. I want people to understand that it’s not easy. You either want it or you don’t. If you want it, you take whatever comes with it. If you don’t, that’s fine too. Like I said though, I wasn’t about trying. Trying means I could give up, and giving up wasn’t an option for me. The only way I was going to stop was if I truly didn’t produce milk, and that wasn’t very likely.
All summer I pumped after feeding Blake each morning so that I could build up a supply in my freezer. I was concerned about pumping when I went back to work in September and I was worried about producing enough to feed Blake each day. I wanted a back up just in case. I managed to store 500 ounces in my freezer and felt really good about having extra in case I needed it. It took the stress and pressure away knowing that Blake could still have breast milk even if I couldn’t pump enough one day. Then one morning a couple weeks before school started, I went downstairs into my kitchen and found my freezer door wide open. I ran over to it and the entire freezer was thawed. Not just a little bit. Warm. My cat must have slipped and opened it climbing on top of it. It was an older fridge and it wasn’t difficult to open. I did what I imagine any woman would do in that situation and threw myself down on the floor. I had a full blown tantrum. I screamed and cried. I couldn’t even speak to tell Keith what was going on. He thought Jame-o was dead while I wanted to kill Jame-o. Jame-o is SO lucky that I’m that one that wanted/wants him. He would have been gone. But I love that stupid cat so much that I threw my milk away, (actually I made Keith do it...I couldn’t do it), and continued pumping. I stored up a couple hundred ounces quickly and a few months later when I had so much milk that I actually didn’t know what to do with it, I was already able to laugh at the tantrum I threw.
By Christmas I had over 1,000 ounces and I was not making a dent in it--only adding to it. Fortunately my mom knew someone who needed extra milk to supplement her son and all of the milk was used by another little boy. I tear up thinking about how happy it makes me. I’ve never met this girl or her baby boy, but she blindly trusted me in order to make sure her son was fed only breastmilk. I no longer felt that I was wasting time pumping to keep my supply because the milk was being used. It’s funny when we think about things that we are proud of. I always joke that I’m not “proud” of graduating high school or college. I just showed up to class and did my work. How do you NOT graduate?! It’s not an accomplishment to me. I am proud that I was able to provide nourishment for Blake for a little more than a year, and I’m proud that I was able to produce enough milk to supplement another little boy at the same time.
It wasn’t always easy, and often times it was quite painful. You can’t just go out and leave a bottle because skipping a feeding is not an option. You still need to pump. I was in a wedding in August and pumped in my car. I pumped in the car on the way to coach swim meets in the winter because I knew I wouldn’t be home until 7PM. I sat in a closet with no windows at work twice a day for 8 months pumping. I wouldn’t change a thing. I read in the middle of the night and absorbed as much knowledge as I could about everything so that I could make the most informed decisions possible for Blake. I was determined to be the best mom I could be. I hope I’ve done everything in my power to give Blake the best possible start to his little life.
I wasn't sure how I would wean Blake from his bedtime feedings. He was getting more dependent instead of less and I finally felt it was time. I started the timer on my phone 15 days ago for 15 minutes. Every night I took one minute away. I said I was doing it so it would be a gradual transition for Blake, but really, I think it was important for both of us. People asked me the second Blake turned one if I was done breastfeeding. My goal was to make it a year, but it doesn't just end that way. My pediatrician recommended he be weaned by 15 months, and at just shy of 14 months, I did it.
I'm happy I gave Blake the best possible start to his life that I could. Truth be told, I'm still disappointed in myself for getting an epidural even though deep down I know I needed it. And I know I can't compare myself to anyone and they can't compare themselves to me. Everyone’s birth is different. I didn't want to disappoint myself again. Honestly, it's never mattered what anyone else thinks. It’s never mattered with anything in my life. I'm SO proud of myself and I'm so happy to have such a healthy and happy little boy.
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