Nursing the Wounds

WARNING: If you do not like to read about nursing (i.e. breast feeding) do not continue reading!!!! 

What better time than 1am to write a blog you've been dreading writing...?  I was told that I would stop producing breastmilk around the time my baby was three months old - this has been the case for many women in my family - grandmother, mother, aunts and even cousins.  And for the most part, I guess that was true - I did stop producing milk when my baby was three months old.  But something I didn't know while pregnant, and learned once my baby was about two months old, was that the more active you are as a mother the less milk you may produce.  That was a new one to me, and I think I might have taken my maternity leave a little more seriously if I had been told that from the get-go.  I don't really blame anyone for not telling me, although certainly people have given me much advice along the way I do wonder why such a valuable piece of information was left out until it was too late.  Overall, I would have expected the lactation consutlant in the hospital to have said as much.  I think telling someone to take it easy and rest isn't always the right message.  Some of us ladies, myself included, need the more effective message - the warning, if you will, "Do not do too much or else your body will stop producing milk."  THAT, my friends, I think would have grabbed my attention.  Being told "to take it easy" without any reason as to why that would be important to my body's milk production failed to make the mark in my book.

It has taken me a long while to write this post.  Thankfully, I think I've gotten past "the hurt" and have settled nicely into "the memories." (don't let me fool you too much, though... the tears are streaming down my face)  The indescribable part of nursing is the bond with your child - and I think I mean the physical bonding of the two bodies.  As my milk production died I found myself screaming frantically from the inside, yelling at my body, because I was realizing that this one-time, temporary part of my relationship with my child was soon coming to a close.  There was so much pain with that realization.  And I saw my husband observing my struggle.  It got to the point where I wasn't really feeding my baby much milk and she would scream for food.  My husband knew better than to suggest that I wasn't feeding her enough so he would silently position the bottle next to me, knowing that it was the only option I had, once I could admit it to myself. 

And so, in the end, I think my biggest sacrifice - as I've jumped back into the work-routine - is my whim of experience as a nursing mother.  I think I wanted more time with that.  And I think I could have had more time with that.  Of course, with nursing comes the hassle (truly a hassle, in my opinion!) of pumping.  Good gracious, if I ever bear another child I am investing in an automatic double pump, I don't care how much they cost!  I had a single hand pump and pretty much dreaded the practice of pumping.  This too probably had a lot to do with my decrease in milk production but that part was somewhat intentional because I just couldn't make myself do it...

So here I sit.  I have picked myself up and licked my wounds.  But the questions from medical professionals at my appointments, or the looks from people who see me with a glass of wine in hand, while my child sleeps in her car seat at the restaurant - those reminders to me that I no longer have a physical bond with my little one - they hurt still.  Less and less each day, for sure, but the reminders exist.  Though I try my hardest to cherish the milestones with my baby, I guess I hadn't realized how valuable or quickly-attained this milestone would be.