Breastfeeding Reflections

I was at the dentist yesterday & was talking with the pregnant hygienist while she cleaned my teeth (side note: don't you love how they try to carry on a conversation with you while they have eight different instruments shoved into your mouth? I don't know how they expect you to offer more than a "ummhmm" or "ahhh" as contribution to the conversation). Anyway, she was telling me that she plans on exclusively pumping for a couple of months, then probably switching to formula when she returns to work.

"You nursed, right?" she asked me and removed the torture tools from my mouth momentarily so I could respond.

"I'm still nursing," I replied and watched as her eyes widened in an oh-my-gosh-is-she-some-kind-of-glutton-for-punishment-freak kind of expression.

And so, while she finished cleaning my teeth, I started to reflect on my (almost) 8 months of breastfeeding.

Let me start by saying that I was never one of those "forumla is evil" types. When I was pregnant, I decided I'd give breastfeeding a try, but reasoned that I'd probably end up switching to formula somewhere along the line. And this might be lame, but my main reason back then for giving the whole breastfeeding thing a shot? Watching my sister breastfeed my two oldest nephews. If she had been a formula mom, chances are I'd be a formula mom too. I guess you never really outgrow that whole learning from your big sister thing.

When Camden was born, he spent a couple of days in the special care nursery at the hospital. My earliest memories of breastfeeding include waking up every 3 hours during the night, and Matt pushing my wheelchair down the hall to the special care nursery, where I'd attempt (unsuccessfully) to get Camden latched on to my boob. I can't even begin to tell you how many nurses touched my boobs over the course of our hospital stay. I'd try to get him latched on for a minute or two, and when he'd start flailing and crying in frustration, I'd call one of the nurses over to help me. It became commonplace for these strangers to grab my boobs and shove them into Camden's mouth. In fact, if we went back to visit today, I highly doubt any of them would recognize me with a shirt on. They knew my boobs better than they knew my face.

By the time we came home from the hospital a few days later, Camden was latching better, but we had entered the bleeding, cracked nipples phase. That phase is just about as fun as it sounds! I remember feeling relieved when he latched by himself but then bracing myself for the pain that would follow. I'd grit my teeth and wince for the first 30 seconds until the pain subsided. Then, when he was done, I'd reach for my trusty Lanolin cream (lifesaver!) to rub on my violated nipples. And I'd think: surely, surely this has to get easier. Surely the AAP wouldn't recommend women to torture themselves this way for an entire year.

Then came engorgement. Oh, engorgement, how I loathe thee. When Camden started "sleeping through the night" (5-6 hour stretches) when he was around 6 weeks old, I'd roll over and feel like I was laying on a boulder. My formerly small A-cups would inflate to porn star sizes and be rock hard to the touch. I'd often be seriously tempted to wake him to nurse during the night back then, just to give me some relief. (These days, I'd welcome engorged boobs if it meant 6 hours of uninterrupted sleep at night! Funny how things change.)

And then one day, breastfeeding just became easy. Second nature, I guess you could say. It didn't happen overnight, but it was a gradual process until one day I realized that making it to one year was no longer a lofty goal that made me cringe, but a likely possibililty that made me happy. And proud.

There are still days when I get irritated by breastfeeding. These days usually occur when Camden is so distracted by a new environment, or a conversation, that he pulls off my breast to check out his surroundings. This often results in a large wet spot on my shirt, as my milk continues to flow while Camden satisifies his ever growing curiosity. Try as I might, I just don't think I'll ever be able to bring the wet boob look into style.

And, of course, there are nights when we're in the middle of one of our nursing marathons and I think longingly of a bottle of formula. And yes- I wonder if I'd have a baby who sleeps through the night if I'd been a formula mom.

But those days (and nights) are few and far between. When they say breastfeeding creates a bond between mom and baby? So true. There is nothing quite like looking down at those big blue eyes staring up at me while he nurses. Add in the smiles and the hair stroking and I could melt. Even if breastfeeding didn't save money, even if it didn't offer so many health benefits for Camden, it would still be worth it to me- just for those moments.