Feeding a Babe Round One

I debated posting this post. I actually held on to it for a few days. It's personal but I think it's informative and worth a read...

Before the Bird was born I knew I wanted to breastfed but it terrified me. I can remember driving home one weekend about 7 months pregnant from my in-laws house bawling my eyes out because I was nervous about nursing. I knew I wanted to pick my battles with parenting and breastfeeding was going to be one of them but the road ahead of me gave me many sleepless nights.

At eight months pregnant with the Bird I was laid off. I took the opportunity to nest and prepare (as much as one can) for parenthood. I looked forward to staying at home with our son and making my priority keeping the little being happy and, more importantly, alive. I purchased nursing books, pillows, and pumps in preparation for the Bird's arrival.

On May 7th the Bird came squawking into our lives. He immediately took to the breast. I felt relief and joy. The lactation specialists were very helpful and put me at ease. They gave me a breast shield a handy pamphlet and sent me on the way.

Once we got home things changed. Nursing hurt. Lanolin helped but I gritted my teeth every.single.time I fed the Bird. I meticulously marked how long I nursed the Bird and from which breast. It was tiresome. It was a single person job and it was emotionally and mentally draining. He nursed ever two to three hours for months. He never seemed to "sleep through the night" like everyone else's kids. I despised nursing but I knew it was going to get easier. I didn't have to do it forever. I just had to make it one year. 12 months. 365 days.

At about two months things changed. The pain went away. I began to enjoy the experience. I liked that it was something only we did together. I liked that he rooted around on my shoulder when he was hungry. I loved the look on his face when he nursed. I loved how he put his hand on my chest when we was asleep. Nursing him was peaceful and comforting for both of us. He was a comfort nurser and I could always calm him through breastfeeding.

While nursing the Bird had turned into such a pleasant experience a new problem began. He wouldn't take a bottle. Ever. From day one. He refused it. I tried ever bottle available. At one point I believe we had around 16 different bottle types. We tried different feeding positions, different caregivers, and different advice from everyone. Most people found it necessary to say "if he's hungry he'll take it."

"If he's hungry he'll take it?!"

This was not reassuring whatsoever. What. So. Ever. We tried for months to give him a bottle, but at least I was at home with him and it was not absolutely necessary for him to take a bottle. He'd live. We'd live. I'd deal.

At eight months I returned back to the work force as a student teacher. The Bird enrolled at a daycare and I pumped. I packed bottles of different types and my liquid gold for him. As I dropped him off I can remember saying to his teacher, "Here is a bottle. He won't take it. And it's fine. Don't worry. I'll feed him when I pick him up." She didn't believe me, but I knew my kid and I knew he wouldn't take it.

When I returned to pick him up from school you know what?! He didn't take the bottle. She suggested different bottles, sippy cups, spoon feeding, and cup feeding him.

They didn't work. He just didn't take them. Ever.

 Luckily I was introducing solids, so he gladly took those, but he NEVER took the bottle. As in Never. Ever.

He was hungry. And he didn't take it. So there. Point proven. He won't take it if he's hungry enough. Worst advice ever. He's stubborn. Not sure where he gets that from.

He stopped gaining weight. Instead of being in the once 80% for weight and the 95% for height. He fell into the 16% for weight and 95% for height.

At the advice of the pediatrician, I really pushed protein and his weight began to creep back up. Once my student teaching was over he was at home with me again and life was good.

I nursed the Bird for 13 months. All that aside it was a wonderful experience. It was always convenient. I never packed bottles and pumped very little. We had it down to an art. He eventually lost interest and I found that to be my sign to stop.

Stopping was bittersweet. I felt like he didn't need me anymore. His dad could fulfill the same duties I could and I wasn't able to swoop in and nurse him if he was hurt or upset. At the same time, I was relieved that I was able to have an identity outside of the Bird. He didn't need me for survival. His dad could feed him. My parents could feed him and he'd be okay. I could go out with girlfriends and was no longer tied to a timer. I had gained a tiny ounce of freedom back.

Two and half years later the Boo arrived. As soon as she latched on, I felt at ease. I felt confident and arrogant at the same time. The only advice I cared to receive was how to give the Boo a bottle. The consultant told me that I could try but it wouldn't happen. "If the first one didn't the second one wouldn't either," she said. At the moment I was determined to prove her wrong. And the Boo was determined to do her own thing.