In honor of World Breastfeeding Week, I decided to throw my own two cents into the ring. You’re welcome.
First, the disclaimer that is necessary before controversial topics such as this: I admire people who feed their children. How you do so is none of my business. Period.
Phew. Now that that is out of the way, here’s my breastfeeding story.
I nursed my firstborn for approximately eight weeks. It was really. freaking. hard. I coped by giving her one bottle per day of formula so that I could maintain a shred of sanity. At six weeks, I started pumping so that the transition when I went back to work would be simple. I don’t remember how long I pumped for honestly. Maybe four months? Maybe. The combination of working and pumping and adjusting to motherhood was overwhelming to say the least. After that we switched to formula. That child is now a brilliant and amazing six year old.
By the time my second came along four and a half years later my perspective had changed a bit and I was more committed to trying to nurse for longer. It helped that I wouldn’t be returning to work and would instead be staying home with her, thus easing the pressure to balance work and feeding.
And guess what? It was freaking hard. Again. I had forgotten about the joyful engorgement stage after your milk comes in. That was fun. And then came the blood. I’m not kidding, you guys, after one nursing session my newborn looked like a vampire because my nipples were cracked and bleeding. I switched to pumping for part of the time to hopefully give them a break to heal. And then I mostly kept pumping because the idea of trying to nurse again was terrifying.
I almost exclusively pumped for a few months, only nursing her occasionally when I was curious to see if she still would. Then we started planning a family vacation. She would be about five months old at the time of our vacation, and the idea of packing for and vacationing with two children, not to mention having to worry about pumping, milk storage and heating, bottle sterilization, etc. was EXHAUSTING. So a few weeks before the trip, we tried out the nursing thing again.
And it went pretty well. Up until this point I hadn’t nursed for long enough to get truly comfortable doing it. I had only been through the hardest part–the beginning. But now I was more familiar with the tricks of nursing, I was through the rocky sleep deprivation stage, and I was working with a much more experienced little eater. It still took us a little while to get the hang of it, but I ended up successfully nursing through our vacation.
And then I just kept going. Because suddenly, it wasn’t that hard anymore. In fact, compared to dealing with pump parts and bottles, it was actually kind of convenient.
I ended up nursing her until she turned a year old, at which point she basically weaned herself. Who am I to complete with birthday cake?
And at the end of the year, I was kind of sad to see our nursing run end. It was an amazing experience and I’m grateful that I got to see it through as long as I did–to know that it isn’t always stressful and painful and overwhelming. And because after my first, it seemed like an almost impossible task. To know we accomplished it is pretty cool.
So why I am sharing this random story with you?
I suppose it’s just to offer up my experience in case it can help someone else. Maybe it will help to know that, when it’s hard, you’re not alone. Breastfeeding was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Maybe it will help to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. It does get easier, I promise. Maybe it will help to know that I didn’t get it on my first try. And that’s ok. Maybe it will help to know that pumping can help you get through the rocky patch. There’s nothing wrong with doing whatever you need to do for you and your baby.
Or maybe I simply broke you out of your Internet scrolling boredom for four minutes with my story. Either way, you’re welcome.
It sucks that there is so much controversy over breastfeeding. But, on the bright side, no matter which path you take, you’ll never have to feel alone because chances are, someone else has been there too. And that’s a good thing. Because the truth is, raising these tiny humans will be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, regardless of how I choose to feed them.
It’s nice to have some company along the road.