A Lonely Complication - Part 2
I vowed never to breastfeed again...But I'm a glutton for punishment :)
I also recall swearing sideways after 27hrs of labor that I would never have another baby. And yet here I am mother of two, with two more spaces on my Mama tattoo for the babies I plan on one day having. Once I'm done learning how to catch the little buggers.
The greatest gift my Lactation Consultant gave me at the end of my disastrous first breastfeeding relationship (if you could call it that), aside from her heartfelt permission for me to stop if I wanted to, was two, maybe three great feeds.
She had a magic touch. She was somehow able to stack pillows around me so that my enormous breasts and my tiny baby's mouth were perfectly aligned. I couldn't see his head for my giant, painful, swollen bosom but she guided him there and cracked gentle jokes about space-shuttles docking with space stations. She whispered in his ear and somehow, for her, he opened wide and latched painlessly, and then suckled hungrily. She stood back while I marvelled for those few minutes at how effortless it could be. He nursed happily for those few precious moments and in them I caught a glimpse of how it was supposed to work. I was sadly never able to replicate those feeds on my own, no matter how hard Husband tried to "dock" him effectively. Ultimately though it was my memories of those moments that drove me to try again.
When my second son was born not only was his birth much better but I kind of knew what to do. He nursed within the first 20 minutes of his birth. I even have pictures of that first feed and you can see just how happy I was to have him there. My nipples still hurt like the devil for a month or so - I've come to the conclusion I just have super sensitive nipples. And I screamed (well, not really... just in my head) at the nurses who tied to urge me to pump to "Take that fiendish thing away!!!". Somehow I just new that a pump would drive my supply to levels I couldn't recover from. And I was right. I pointedly ignored the pressure of the nurses to make sure I nursed on both sides each feed and steadfastly nursed on one side each feed, thus ensuring he reached the fatty, nourishing hindmilk. I did have to struggle to ensure my supply wasn't encouraged in any way. I noticed that I became engorged for a day or so simply after eating an Indian meal seasoned with fennel seed and fenugreek! I think my breasts think they were put on earth to nourish twins... or possibly even triplets.
Nursing was still hard the second time around. I initially looked forward to the "Magic" 6 week mark when everyone said "If you make it to 6 weeks, you'll be laughing". 6 weeks came and went and I was still sore and found it tricky to nurse anywhere except my nursing chair in my living room. I then shot for 8 weeks, and then 12. I think it was around 5 months when I found myself sitting at the park with another nursing friend and I realized that it didn't hurt anymore, and that I could nurse anywhere, anytime. It was a great feeling. I had a super healthy, super attached kid and I was finally doing what I had struggled so long to do. I had perfected the Womanly Art. I'm still, and probably always will be tremendously proud of it as an accomplishment of mine.
Time slid by and all of a sudden it was his first birthday. He ate chocolate cake for dessert and covered himself in frosting. After his bath he nursed and I realized that I'd done it. I'd nursed my baby for 12 months. Countless times I doubted it was an anniversary we'd ever make. But we had.
This week he turns 18 months old. And every 3 or 4 days he returns and asks to nurse for a few short minutes. I find I'm a bit sore again. My nipples unused to the sensations and his mouthful of teeth, but sure enough there's still milk there and he's always happy to check in. I'm in no hurry for his twice weekly nursing sessions to end. I'll be a bit sad when they do.
So, for the record, huge oversupply is just as debilitating and breast-feeding attempt ending as undersupply. Though both complications must obviously be managed very differently. I wonder if, by telling my story, more women plagued by insurmountable oversupply might find me. I still believe I can't possibly be the only woman in America (Australian or not) who has had these issues. I was lonely in my struggle to beat my oversupply, I hope this might make someone like me, feel less alone and more hopeful.
Because suceeding in breastfeeding my second son where I had failed with my first was empowering and delightful.
I also recall swearing sideways after 27hrs of labor that I would never have another baby. And yet here I am mother of two, with two more spaces on my Mama tattoo for the babies I plan on one day having. Once I'm done learning how to catch the little buggers.
The greatest gift my Lactation Consultant gave me at the end of my disastrous first breastfeeding relationship (if you could call it that), aside from her heartfelt permission for me to stop if I wanted to, was two, maybe three great feeds.
She had a magic touch. She was somehow able to stack pillows around me so that my enormous breasts and my tiny baby's mouth were perfectly aligned. I couldn't see his head for my giant, painful, swollen bosom but she guided him there and cracked gentle jokes about space-shuttles docking with space stations. She whispered in his ear and somehow, for her, he opened wide and latched painlessly, and then suckled hungrily. She stood back while I marvelled for those few minutes at how effortless it could be. He nursed happily for those few precious moments and in them I caught a glimpse of how it was supposed to work. I was sadly never able to replicate those feeds on my own, no matter how hard Husband tried to "dock" him effectively. Ultimately though it was my memories of those moments that drove me to try again.
When my second son was born not only was his birth much better but I kind of knew what to do. He nursed within the first 20 minutes of his birth. I even have pictures of that first feed and you can see just how happy I was to have him there. My nipples still hurt like the devil for a month or so - I've come to the conclusion I just have super sensitive nipples. And I screamed (well, not really... just in my head) at the nurses who tied to urge me to pump to "Take that fiendish thing away!!!". Somehow I just new that a pump would drive my supply to levels I couldn't recover from. And I was right. I pointedly ignored the pressure of the nurses to make sure I nursed on both sides each feed and steadfastly nursed on one side each feed, thus ensuring he reached the fatty, nourishing hindmilk. I did have to struggle to ensure my supply wasn't encouraged in any way. I noticed that I became engorged for a day or so simply after eating an Indian meal seasoned with fennel seed and fenugreek! I think my breasts think they were put on earth to nourish twins... or possibly even triplets.
Nursing was still hard the second time around. I initially looked forward to the "Magic" 6 week mark when everyone said "If you make it to 6 weeks, you'll be laughing". 6 weeks came and went and I was still sore and found it tricky to nurse anywhere except my nursing chair in my living room. I then shot for 8 weeks, and then 12. I think it was around 5 months when I found myself sitting at the park with another nursing friend and I realized that it didn't hurt anymore, and that I could nurse anywhere, anytime. It was a great feeling. I had a super healthy, super attached kid and I was finally doing what I had struggled so long to do. I had perfected the Womanly Art. I'm still, and probably always will be tremendously proud of it as an accomplishment of mine.
Time slid by and all of a sudden it was his first birthday. He ate chocolate cake for dessert and covered himself in frosting. After his bath he nursed and I realized that I'd done it. I'd nursed my baby for 12 months. Countless times I doubted it was an anniversary we'd ever make. But we had.
This week he turns 18 months old. And every 3 or 4 days he returns and asks to nurse for a few short minutes. I find I'm a bit sore again. My nipples unused to the sensations and his mouthful of teeth, but sure enough there's still milk there and he's always happy to check in. I'm in no hurry for his twice weekly nursing sessions to end. I'll be a bit sad when they do.
So, for the record, huge oversupply is just as debilitating and breast-feeding attempt ending as undersupply. Though both complications must obviously be managed very differently. I wonder if, by telling my story, more women plagued by insurmountable oversupply might find me. I still believe I can't possibly be the only woman in America (Australian or not) who has had these issues. I was lonely in my struggle to beat my oversupply, I hope this might make someone like me, feel less alone and more hopeful.
Because suceeding in breastfeeding my second son where I had failed with my first was empowering and delightful.
posted by Louisa at 11:38 PM
1 Comments:
Thanks for sharing your story. Altough I don't have children yet, it's stories like this one that you keep on the back of your mind and get back to when you encounter a similar situation.
Thank you again and congratulations.
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