Once upon a time there were a pair of boobs...not sexy ones but lactating ones.

I think a lot about breastfeeding these days since I spend about 50% of my day nursing my 12 month old son.  The kid is addicted to breast milk and resembles a little fire breathing dragon if he does not receive it on demand.  It’s really a miracle that he and I made it this long breastfeeding.  My older daughter and I did not fare nearly as well. 

I didn’t know when I first became a mom that breastfeeding would be so much work.  I thought my baby would just slip out of the birth canal and she would magically drink milk flowing from my breasts.  I thought I would use that breast pump thingy and it would fill up with milk.  This turned out to be the farthest from the truth for me.

Imagine my surprise when a couple of days after my first baby was born my nipples were cracked and bleeding.  My daughter wasn’t latching properly and when she did she’d only stay on a few minutes.  She had to stay in the hospital a couple of weeks after her birth due to a minor infection and my husband had to leave the country on business the day after she was born.  So imagine the stress for a new mom trying to do what she’s been told is best for her baby and it’s not going as planned.  On top of all of this the lactation consultant (or lactation Nazi as I like to call her) was breathing down my neck every five minutes telling me to, “Try this, try that.  Maybe the football hold, maybe upside down.” 

I wanted to quit so many times.  My boobs hurt; my kid was screaming her head off even after attempting to nurse her for an hour.  And I did quit when she turned three months old.  I just couldn’t do it anymore; physically, emotionally or mentally.  When I pumped I produced enough milk to feed a grasshopper and my daughter just really liked her bottle and I had to return to work; so everyone was happier this way. 

My experience with my son has been a completely different one however.  I went into my pregnancy and his birth with zero expectations.  I decided to give breastfeeding a try but not stress about it if it didn’t work.  When the nurse handed him to me after I woke up from my C-section he went straight for the breast and it was like he knew exactly what to do.  Despite my success the same lactation Nazi was all over my case about how to breastfeed my kid.  I decided this time that I was this kid’s mother and I would do what felt best and most natural.  So when the nurses kept pushing me to pump every two hours and I started bleeding into the collection bottles I said this crap is for the birds.  I’m not pumping.  I’m not sitting here listening to that waaaaaa noise all day.  I’m going to keep trying to nurse this kid and see what happens.  I’m going to do it my way.  And what do you know, he started gaining weight.  12 months later he is a happy healthy kid.  He’s never even really been sick.  And we are still nursing.  I figured out that I just don’t pump well.  Just because I pump very little doesn’t mean the baby only getting a small amount of milk.  There were several times along the way that I wanted to quit because it hurt too badly, or it was inconvenient to be his pacifier, etc. but we are still nursing.  It’s been a great experience and I highly recommend it if you can hang in there because it is just lovely to sit down and snuggle up with your kiddo while he eats.  If you can’t though don’t beat yourself up.  In the middle ages they had wet nurses and nowadays we have formula.  

 Nursing is different for every mom and every child is different too.  I have two children that have been polar opposites in the realm of breastfeeding.  Sometimes you just need to give the kid a bottle.  Sometimes they nurse like ducks to water.  Just do your best and see what happens, because you can never go wrong doing your best. 

*I have zero, and I mean zero medical expertise so always consult your pediatrician when it comes to feeding your child.