Showing posts with label Breastfeeding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Breastfeeding. Show all posts

Sunday, 19 December 2010

Boob be gone

So it looks like we’re winding down our breastfeeding relationship. Which is good. I think. I mean, right? This is what I want, isn’t it? She’s almost 17 months old. Old enough that I personally don’t feel comfortable feeding her in public and haven’t for around 6 months or so. Which is not say I have anything against extended breastfeeding, but I certainly have found my own comfort threshold with it. Eloise and I are starting our first step to growing apart as individuals. And while I will forever and always be Eloise’s mother - a permanent stamp on my identity, Eloise will become more and more Eloise, plain and simple (though far from plain and far from simple is she).

I can now get her to nap and sleep without nursing. A feat I have tried for near on 7 months off and on with no luck. Finally this last week, Eloise and I were ready. I had more resolve to stick it out and she no longer felt this was a battle worth fighting against so hard. So she signed for milk and I calmly gave her a beaker of cow’s milk instead. And I rocked her in my arms and she kicked and screamed and pointed at the old chair we usually nurse in, but I rocked and shushed and patted and after 10 minutes she laid her cheek against mine and started to fall asleep. And the next day it was 5 minutes of screaming. And that night. That night I held her and rocked her for maybe 30 seconds and she indicated that she wanted to be put down in her bed, so I did, and she curled into a ball, butt in the air, and I put the blanket on her, patted her back and left the room.

We are now embarking on day 5 of not nursing and there have unfortunately been many a moment at 1:12am, at 2:29am, at 4:38am that tears have sprung to my eyes while Eloise wailed and thrashed - because of teething, because of a cold, because of a tummy ache, because she likes a good challenge - and I thought I should just give in and sit in that chair and nurse her. But we both need to learn how to calm and be calmed by other means than my milk - and while cutting 2 molars without being able to nurse her through the discomfort has been a baptism of fire, we have stuck through it and she has woken every morning, happy and cheerful and slightly more independent to two very tired parents.

Will I be able to stay as strong tonight if she does the same thing? If she wakes up 4 times and takes a good HOUR to get back to sleep each time? I don’t know. I’m tired. I honestly don’t know. But I do know that Eloise and I are growing up. And I’m a little sad and a lot relieved. Because do you know what stopping to nurse means? It means that I can drink as much sparkling water as I want without it upsetting Eloise’s stomach. It means that I can wear bras that don’t pretend to hold my boobs up by flimsy Lego snaps. IT MEANS THAT I CAN DRINK DURING THE DAY AGAIN.IF I FEEL LIKE IT. IF I AM NOT NAPPING.

Wednesday, 29 September 2010

Because there are not enough posts on breastfeeding in this world.

Sigh. Breastfeeding. I'm still at it. We're still at it. If you had told me when Eloise was born that I would still be nursing her at 14 months I would have said you clearly don't know me that well. Turns out I don't know me that well.

My plan was to go to 6 months. The disastrous Paris trip knocked back my confidence and I just couldn't bring myself to wean her. So I said we'll nurse until her 1st birthday. Then she can have cow's milk and I can have my boobs back. Or what's left of them.

Well 2 months on from her birthday and we are no closer to being weaned. I had a one week period where I offered her cow's milk more often and was going to take it from there, but I didn't really pursue it much more than that. She still gets a couple glasses of cow's milk a day (which she never finishes) and of course she's going without breast milk when she's at nursery twice a week.

But when she's with me and those little hands are furiously making the sign for milk! milk! milk! Dear GOD woman whip one out and FEED ME! with those big blue eyes I cave in nearly every time.

I don't breastfeed her in public anymore, because I'm slightly embarrassed by it now. Partly because we're not feeding as often so I'm more aware of it. At the beginning you're feeding your baby more often then you're not feeding her and if I hadn't nursed her in public back then I would have turned into a reclusive mole person who smells faintly of mildew and cream. And partly because I remember how I felt seeing a mother nurse a baby/child Eloise's age and it kinda creeped me out. I'm vain enough to care what others think of me and I just don't have the passion for breast feeding to back myself up. If I were a militant breast feeder who had read all the facts and chose to nurse my child until, what is it age 4? as recommended by the WHO? Then I would happily nurse in public and proudly explain my pro-breastfeeding stance to any naysayers. But I am not a militant breast feeder. Sure, I believe if you are able to, in the early stages, giving your baby milk created especially for him/her with your own friggin' body is the best option. But do you know what trumps that option? Making sure your baby does not go hungry and that you as a FAMILY are happy and healthy.


No, I am still breastfeeding my 14-month old baby because I am one lazy mother. I am feeding her with my own milk because I just can't face the week it would take to train her to nap without nursing. I am nursing her because on the nights when she wakes up at 4am, popping open my nursing bra and falling back to sleep in the chair next to her crib is the easiest option IN THE MOMENT. I am nursing her because on the rare occasions when she has a total freak out and is crying hysterically I know the quickest way to calm her down is to nourish her with my own body in the best way I know how. And if I am honest with myself, I am still nursing Eloise because I am afraid that if I stop I will no longer be as important to her as I am right now.


I know it needs to stop sometime. Sometime in the not so distant future. There is a long night at the pub with my name written in beer foam all over it. I want to take drugs again - no, not the fun bad kind, just some sudafed once in a while would be nice. I want to one day not be such an integral part of her bedtime routine. I want to know what other super powers as a mother I have up my sleeve. Powers that I have yet to discover because Eloise and I still can't get over the fact that my body? PRODUCES FOOD.

Tuesday, 13 April 2010

To night wean or not to night wean

Every night I go through this battle in my head. Eloise has good nights, where she only wakes up once to feed, but those are few and far between. More often than not she has bad nights where she wakes up 4 times. Though I know she doesn't need to eat, in my sleep deprived state I go to the easiest in the short term solution and plonk my boob into her crying mouth so we can all get to sleep again NOW.

While I'm feeding her in her darkened nursery the same argument runs through my mind. She's not even 9 months yet, and a couple experts say that sleeping through the night is a milestone to reach just like sitting up or crawling. Plenty of other books say that by 6 months your baby does not need to feed at night and should be sleeping through. I go back and forth. I know I am creating a habit for her, that she is nursing for comfort and doesn't need the breastmilk (at least not 4 times a night!), but at the same time do I want to put us through a week of sleep training hell if she's just going to get there on her own at some point? And especially as she isn't getting any milk while at nursery I can easily guilt trip myself into feeding her more than she requires.


And if we do decide to night wean, how much crying are we willing to subject our child to?

This would be a lot easier if we were trying for a second child. Then the decision would be made for me - if I want another child, I would HAVE to get Eloise off of the night feeding. (Breastfeeding - especially at night - is a very potent natural form of contraception). I could use the promise of a sibling for Eloise as motivation to handle the sleepless nights. But so far we're holding off on baby number 2.


It's quite impressive how mother nature makes sure that you are sleeping through the night before having another child. Makes perfect sense to me. What I need to know though is whether mother nature is waiting for your baby to get to the point where they no longer need their mom and her milk jugs to sleep or is mother nature waiting for you to prove you are a good enough parent by getting your child the much needed undisturbed night's rest before she grants you a second kid to fuck up love.

Feel free to add your opinion to the mix that is my muddled Mama brain.

Wednesday, 24 March 2010

Lesson learned. Baby 1 Mom 0

While I was pregnant I had it in my head that I would breastfeed until 6 months as recommended and then put my baby onto formula for the next 6 months until she could drink cow's milk at age 1. It's no secret that my life before motherhood was a rather boozy one and I figured that after the 15 or so months of near total sobriety Mama could use a night out on the tiles.

Of course getting drunk now is a whole different ball game. Not only would I have to contend with baby care on top of hangover, but I am such a lightweight these days it is not even funny. Except that it is funny. Because half a pint of beer and I am GONE. I mean like flashing my lopsided milk jugs for free shots GONE.

But my whole plan of putting my baby on formula after 6 months of exclusive breastfeeding didn't factor in the fact that my baby would have her own opinion on the matter.

After the disastorous Paris trip where Eloise went 20 hours sans eating we had a few more attempts at getting her to take the bottle. Not even formula perse, just my milk but in a bottle. She refused. I decided my last attempt would be her nursery. Totally different evironment, no trace of me, and in the hands of child care experts. After 4 days of them trying to get her on the bottle with no success I finally decided to give up. I mean if they can't do it, it just ain't going to happen.

Your boobs are MINE MilkLady.

So there it is. No big boozy night in my future. My boobs are still being held ransom by a tiny being that is growing remarkably sharp teeth as we speak. A very opinionated being who knows what she likes and won't settle for anything less. And as much as I would love to share a bottle of wine or 5 with friends I am quite proud of my little girl for sticking to her guns.

Thursday, 4 March 2010

My left boob

I can always tell when a new exercise or diet regime is working because my left breast looses weight before any other part of my body. The right one will eventually catch up, – right boob is a little lazy. This of course isn’t the greatest incentive for trying to lose weight. Avoided cake and huffed and puffed till your face was red on the treadmill? How bout I shrink half of your best assets as a reward.

So combine a left boob that is always itching to get back to it’s C cup and a baby that has an unexplained preference for nursing from the right boob and we got ourselves a one-way ticket to lopside city.

I had been warned from other mothers about what the dreaded nursing boob preference could do, but I thought, really – how much damage can a little baby do. Yeah, I can see you shaking your head from here.

When she was younger she would scream and writhe when I offered her my left breast. When I had the patience I could wait through this period and get her to eventually accept it. But my patience was more often used up with changing her outfit for the third time that day after yet another butt explosion, or wiping up another dollop of baby spew from the bedroom floor. So I would cave in and just move her to the right breast and call it a day.

Now she has no preference, can swap between boobs without batting an eye, but the damage has been done.

I gave her my heart and she took my boobs. Not only do they no longer match, but they’re also a deflated shadow of their former selves.

So my advice to any childless women out there – go have fun, kinky (protected!) sex and in the morning strut around his place in nothing but his oversized t-shirt and a smile while your body is still in a state to make that look sexy. Take a moment to drink in your fabulousness – because once you have a kid your body is theirs.

These days I put on the Frenchman’s shirt and I just look like Meatloaf prancing around without his pants on.

Just cute enough to make my sad boobs worth it. But only just.

Friday, 26 February 2010

The Baby Gods Giveth and the Baby Gods Taketh Away

Most mothers know about the horrid Sleep Gods. The ones that sit around waiting for a mother to brag that her baby slept 8 hours straight for the first time ever and then swoop in and whisper to your baby in her crib that it is her duty to keep these parent people on their toes by waking up every 3 hours screaming just when they’ve tasted the sweetness of over 6 hours of consecutive sleep.

But I also found out that there are Spit-up Gods and Teething Gods (not to be confused with the Tooth Fairy who I hear is actually pretty nice). As soon as I posted about Eloise finally getting over her penchant for milk regurgitations multiple times a day, I spent the next 12 hours with warm sour milk falling out of my baby’s mouth (almost always onto me I might add). And in the 7 month letter to Eloise where I mentioned that she did not yet have teeth and that I was very happy to keep that milestone at bay for the time being she cut her first tooth LATER THAT DAY. So apparently Spit-up God and Teething God are fans of my blog.

Happily biting on her tongue days before the tooth appeared

And when I saw that tooth? I hugged her close to me, told her how proud I was and then burst into tears. It’s just too fast.

So now that I’m nursing a toothed baby, can someone please tell me how I get her to stop using my nipple as a teething ring? At the moment I just take her off the breast (while yelling in pain of course) and tell her no. Then she smiles at me. And you just know Teething God taught her that one.

Saturday, 20 February 2010

The Science of Sleep

When I was pregnant the most common comment I got from parents was SLEEP WHILE YOU STILL CAN which was slightly annoying because with the round ligament pain, the pelvic girdle pain, and the intense excitement at impending motherhood a good night’s sleep was rather elusive during most of pregnancy.

The second most common comment from parents was MAKE SURE YOU GET YOUR BABY ON A SLEEP ROUTINE ASAP. Every baby book I read said that creating a bedtime routine is crucial.

The Frenchman and I figured it made sense. Let the baby know there’s a difference between night and day (apparently living in a dark sack of goo for 9 months can mess with your internal clock or something). Give the baby sleep cues so it knows bedtime is a-coming. Teach the baby how to fall asleep on their own so they don’t need you to do it for them whenever they wake up (and BOY do they wake up!)

It’s that last piece of advice that we really struggled with. Most of the books all agree that the best way to teach your baby how to fall asleep on their own is to put them in their bed awake.

I just found this to go against all instincts. I would nurse Eloise before bed (and some would say that’s my problem right there – but I felt the fuller the tank the longer the sleep) and as most babies do, she would fall asleep while nursing. So there I was in the dim light of my bedroom, cradling a warm little creature, heavy with sleep, a small smile on her face drunk with milk – and I’m supposed to wake her up before putting her to bed?!? But the baby snoring and the milk smile and the visions of sugarplums – what monster would destroy that?

And it worked. Sure I was nursing her to sleep – but she was STAYING asleep – 6 hours, 8 hours. Sometimes the whole night. At 7 weeks. My other new mommy friends were waking every 3 or 4 hours and I knew we had it good and saw no reason to change things. If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.

And so I continued to nurse Eloise to sleep and place her in her bassinet. And she would sleep for 6 hours or more, wake up to feed once and go back to bed. Life was good.

Then Eloise reached 4 months. And it would take me ages to get her to sleep. I would nurse her. She would be asleep in my arms I’d lie her down ever so gently in her bassinet and she would wake up. Feed sleep put down wake-up repeat. And she started waking a lot more often. Like every hour more often.. And I would feed her or her Father would rock her and I would sit in front of the Internet reading websites on baby sleep sites while crying from exhaustion.

And what we found out from our desperate Internet research is that babies fall into a deep sleep right away when they’re fresh on the scene. They have a lot of catching up to do and that sleep helps them develop. Then at around 3 or 4 months their sleep patterns mature and become like ours – when they first fall asleep it is a light sleep – easily disturbable (not a word but it should be) hence the new difficulty at getting her to stay asleep. They also have sleep cycles like we do – around 45 minutes. So when Eloise would finish a sleep cycle, instead of putting herself back to sleep she would cry, wondering where the giant milk bag that put her to sleep went.

We knew we had to fix this. We couldn’t live with a child who wakes every hour crying. We were also aware that it would probably be painful. I decided to buy two different books on baby sleep from both spectrums – one a tough love, no nonsense approach, the other a fluffy, anti-crying, cotton-wool type. I wanted to get both opinions so I could then make my own. We held off on a course of action and just dealt with the sleepless nights until the books arrived in the post.

When they arrived I made the worse mistake of my young parenting career. I gave the fluffy book to the Frenchman to read and I read the tough-love book. We spent the next week arguing about whose book was right until we finished them and switched. My book actually mentioned his by name saying that the methods were rubbish. After the Frenchman read the first chapter of his book he said he now feels terrible that Eloise has spent a small portion of her life in tears. I believe my response was - well my book says your book is crap. Healthy stuff here people.

By the time I read both books I felt horrible. Eloise’s poor sleep habits were all my fault. I had one book telling me how important a good nights sleep is for the development of my child, statistics about how babies that don’t get enough sleep end up being angry, unintelligent and prone to getting themselves knocked-up, in jail or both by the age of 12. The book said it was my duty as parent to get my child to sleep through the night no matter what amount of crying was involved – a couple of bad night’s for the greater good. The other book told me that I’d be a horrible mother if I let my child shed one single tear that I could have some way prevented.

In the end we went for the middle of the road. Whine-it out we call it. We spent more time on our sleep routine with Eloise and instead of nursing being the last thing I did before she slept, I would pass Eloise to her Father and he would rock her a bit and put in her crib awake, but sleepy. We would let her complain for up to ten minutes before intervening and if her complaints turned into a proper cry we would step in.

So far it’s working. She doesn’t sleep through the entire night, but only wakes up twice for a feed. Which is such an improvement from the 7 or 8 times she was doing before that we are ecstatic.

And more importantly we learned that educating ourselves in different parenting styles is helpful – knowledge is power. But that ultimately we need to come to our own decision on what is best for us as a family. That lesson has been worth all the sleepless nights combined. Ok. Almost worth it.

Wednesday, 23 September 2009

Cry me a river

It is amazing how closely linked your body is to your emotional state. Breastfeeding is proof. We are struggling to get Eloise to take the bottle. The idea behind expressing milk and giving her a bottle every once in awhile is to give me a break and to let the Frenchman have some bonding time with his daughter. If all went well we even thought we could dream big and hand her over to a trusting friend for an evening while we attempt to have a meal where I don't have one boob sticking out of my top and a sleeping baby in my lap.

They said not to try giving her a bottle until around 4 weeks and breastfeeding was well established. So at 4 weeks on the dot, I expressed some milk into a bottle, waited for the little beast to let me know she was hungry and popped the bottle in her mouth. She took it right away, sucking with gusto, content in my arms. She's a genius I thought! A perfect baby! Every new mother's dream!

She hasn't done it since. The devious little darling has cried, spat out, coughed up every bottle we have tried to give her after that first time. We have tried warming the bottle, we have tried me leaving the room while the Frenchman takes over, we have tried the Frenchman wearing my sweater while feeding (unfortunately he didn't take my suggestion of wearing my dress and lip gloss). We have tried different bottles. Nothing works. And I think back to that first time, where she took the bottle without hesitation. Eloise wants me to know the problem isn't that she can't eat from a bottle, the problem is that she won't eat from a bottle.

After getting some advice from other mothers, I was made to understand that this bottle feeding business isn't always easy, and we need to persevere. So for the next 2 weeks we are sacrificing our morning sleep to train our baby to give up the boob for one feed a day. The Frenchman will wake up at the first sounds of Eloise sucking on her hand stumble downstairs and set the bottle sterilizer in motion and warm up the bottle which I will have prepared yesterday. I will then stumble downstairs leaving him to go back up and feed Eloise while I put together the pump and suck out tomorrow morning's feed.

Now here's the tricky part. If Eloise doesn't take the feed from her father she will have to wait until her next feed to eat. Which means we will have to endure a hungry crying baby at 6am until she twigs that if she wants to break the fast she will need to suck on that faux nipple because sweetheart? : There is nothing else on the menu.

For the start of this mutual torture, we woke up this morning to create tomorrow's feed. I fed her from one boob first while the Frenchman sterilized the pump. I then put her to bed and went downstairs to express the other boob. If only it were that easy. The stress of what we are about to embark on. The stress that if it doesn't work I might have a child attached to my breast until she goes to university. The stress and guilt of what we are putting not just ourselves through, but out daughter through just so I can have a few hours break from being someone's food dispenser. All this stress means that my milk won't budge. Half asleep with the BBC on in the background I pump and pump and nothing comes out. I turn up the baby monitor so I can hear her little murmurs in hopes that will help. Nothing. The ability to pump; to make this work means my freedom, and that pressure is too much. I keep pumping. My hand is hurting. It looks like I might be awhile so I start watching the BBC news in earnest. And then something happens. Prince William is on the BBC. He's talking about how he wants to devote more time to charity. He says that even if he helps one person it will be worth it. He is hugging a young girl. And my milk is flowing like tears.

Thursday, 17 September 2009

Everybody needs a bosom for a pillow



Breastfeeding for the most part has gone really well. The first two weeks of course were hell. I imagine those first weeks are only fun to women who live in latex and nipple clamps with a list of favorite safety words. There's a lot of crying in the early days, and it's not just the raging hormones, it's having a small snorting newbie chomp on your nipples like her life depended on it, because, oh that's right, her life depends on it. But then the pain slowly goes away, and you don't dread the feedings as much. And now at two months of this feeding another human with liquid from your body, I can say that the sensation is not all together unpleasant. It even tickles at times. And oh the sophomoric joy at seeing how far I can squirt milk out of my boob. I figure if Eloise is going to spit up so much of it, I can waste some too. So when the pamphlets and the midwives and the doctors and the magazines and the websites all tell you that breastfeeding should not be painful, they are right. But they don't tell you that it takes weeks to get there.

However holding on to an ever growing bundle of joy for hours on end while she feeds is not the most comfortable. And sure, we use strategically placed pillows to ease the back ache, but sometimes mama needs to read the newspaper and sometimes she wants to read it at the kitchen table and not the giant arm chair she now spends the large slice of the pie chart in. Either way by the end of the day my arms and back are feeling the breastfeeding pain.

So after a few earlier failed attempts I decided to give breastfeeding lying down another try - look Ma! No Hands!. And it works a treat. My DreamGenii pillow underneath my shoulders and Eloise's head, we snuggle up together and she feeds. Not only do we both get to have a rest in this position, it gives Eloise a bit more freedom. I help her latch on at first, but then she comes off when she wants to, takes a moment to contemplate the meaning life and/or burp and can latch right back on again when she feels like it with no help from me. These feeds have a more of a all-you-can-eat buffet feel with no restrictions on helpings. Of course letting her fall asleep like this then sneaking her into her crib may not be the best in long run and I'm sure we'll pay for it when I have a 4 year old who can only fall asleep by spooning her mother, but we'll deal with that issue when we get to it.

My only problem with breastfeeding is doing it in public. Now I'm not uncomfortable popping my boob out in public and feeding my daughter, but I am uncomfortable with other people being uncomfortable. You hear these horror stories of evil stares or restaurant managers kicking you out on the grounds that you can't bring in your own food (WTF!!!). So when Eloise and I are out and about I get such horrible nerves when she starts crying, worrying about whether I'll have to feed her and what people's reactions will be if I do. I don't like the idea of blankets or hooter hiders to cover us up though. A) It feels like I'm ashamed of giving my child a good meal, which I am not. B) I sure as hell wouldn't want to eat a meal with a blanket over my head unless it's that sacred bird and I'm at some underground banquet with French VIPs so I don't see why my kid would.

At home I spend most of the day half topless. The ever sexy look of one tit dangling out of a milk stained low-cut T-Shirt. Ahh, motherhood is so hot. And my fear is that one day I will answer the door in this half dressed state. Hello Mr. Postman. Oh that? That's just my daughter's mid-morning snack, why - did you want some? Seriously. Motherhood. So hot.

It's a shame though that while at home I am terribly at ease with it all, I live in fear of having to whip out boob in public. Any suggestions on how to get over this fear or what to say to anyone who gives me hassle for daring to feed a hungry child in front of them? Have any of you ever had bad experiences breastfeeding in public? I mean part of me doesn't see too much of a problem staying inside for the next 6 months or so watching reruns of The Hills, but I don't think I'd like Eloise's first words to be"I hate Spiedi".