14 Months Of Breastfeeding, gathered in one list

Yup, that is what I did. Well, technically 14 months and three days if you are truly counting. And yup, this truly is a post about breastfeeding, so feel free to skip it (you know, if you are my brother for example). I never thought I’d be writing about it. But I in fact get a lot of questions on the subject. And since I blather on about other random things (like cloth diapering) and this journal is truly simply a way for us to remember things that we might otherwise forget (like paint colors and vacation happenings), I figure that something I did for so long (around 425 days straight) deserved a post about the range of emotions that it elicited. So here we go.

My first emotion: grateful. I was simply so thankful it worked. I was acutely aware that some moms try extremely hard but it is simply not possible. I was also pleasantly surprised that it was not as painful as I expected. I’d heard a lot about cracked and bleeding nipples (yes I simply typed that) but thanks to genetics or a good latch (or some other random happening) I did not truly have much pain at all (in the interest of TMI, I also never had sore boobs while prego, so perhaps those things go hand in hand?). And I know the whole lack of pain thing might make you want to punch me (it annoys the heck out of my BFF) but I had a fairly frightening birth experience so I guess it is consistently something (and not consistently the same thing) that throws you for a loop as a new mom.

Speaking of the whole birth thing, I was initially truly stressed about Clara “taking” to breastfeeding because, due to our complications, I could not nurse her until eight whole hours after she came into this world. I heard trying as soon as possible was the way to go, and I guess the whole scary birth experience had me fearing the worst (there was no baby-on-my-chest-to-snuggle-and-nurse-right-away occurrance, which is certainly what I pictured). But the sweet nurses fairly much simply said to give it a try and it was miraculous. Clara got it right away. Such a relief.

As far as emotions go, after “grateful” and “pleasantly surprised” I moved into “exhausted and overwhelmed” territory. Clara was blissfully sleeping for 12 hours each night fairly much from the beginning, waking up for simply one or two feedings most of the time (after we got the ok from the doc to let her sleep instead of waking her up to feed every 3 hours since she was steadily gaining weight).

But that meant that during the day she was feeding every two hours like clockwork (I fed her on demand, and at nearly exact two hour intervals she screamed and was not glad til she was nursing). So I truly could not get much done without having to stop and feed her. Which I in fact enjoyed for the bonding and the sweetness and the self-imposed break that it gave me from housework, blogging, and all that other stuff – but it was certainly exhausting and sort of all-encompassing in those bleary I-have-a-newborn months. I consistently joke that she let me rest at night, but during the day she made me work for it.

And when we went on a week-long family vacation when Clara was simply six weeks old I remember sitting upstairs alone with Clara feeding her in a bedroom while everyone else was downstairs having lively together and thinking “I am going to have to excuse myself and do this about eight times a day while everyone else hangs out – which adds up to 56 feedings that I will be doing over the next seven days.” That is an overwhelming thought. At least it was to me. It was times like this that I in fact wished feeding in public (or at least in front of your extended family) was more widely accepted. I tried to use a nursing cover but Clara would not have it. So up in my room I sat (with occasional visits from John who sweetly recognized that I’d rather be with the group and dropped in to keep us company). Back in these days feedings were fairly slow going (around 15-20 minutes per side for a total of 30-40 minutes spent sequestered). But we still managed to fit in some lively in the sun (or shade since she was so compact).

I should mention that 1) pumping did not agree with me and 2) Clara never took to bottles (or pacifiers for that matter). You win some and you lose some. So every time she fed for the past 14 months it was directly from the source. Which was ok with me since pumping simply did not work out and thankfully I have a job that allows me to be home with her. But it is certainly sort of crazy as a concept because for over a year I was never away from my daughter for more than an hour or two. Ever.

But with a face like this, I was ok with that:

Around three months in I truly got into the groove though. That is where I’d characterize my feelings as “content and accepting.” I was glad to still be able to breastfeed and glad that it seemed to suit Clara. She seemed to enjoy it and I knew how to do it effectively and easily sufficient (in a parked car? check. in a dressing room? check). I even managed to sneak in a taping for the Nate Berkus show, nursing Clara in the green room right before we went on and right after (thankfully it was only a two hour process – or we might have heard her screaming for another feeding from on stage).

I guess I had adapted more to it, and it did not feel like as big of a job after I got into the swing of things. And by about 6-8 months old Clara had become a lot more efficient, so feedings were only about 15 minutes total (and sometimes even ten). Interestingly sufficient, the introduction of solid food at six months old (which Clara enjoyed from day one) did not have any bearing on her nursing. She still hoped simply as much, simply as frequently. And I was secretly kind of relieved because I worried a bit about my production slowing or even stopping if she suddenly dropped a ton of feedings. But that was not the case.

Up until Clara turned ten months old I was still feeding her every two hours during the day at her insistence (screaming until I nursed her = her insistence). That is right, for ten months (that is 300 days) I nursed Clara every two hours (except during the night). I was ok with it, and my doc was ok with it, but I heard from friends that only going two hours between feedings at that age was reallllly frequently (as in all of my friends were only feeding every 4-5 hours or so at that age). My doc explained that it made sense since Clara was such an unusually solid night sleeper (she segued from waking up for 1-2 feedings in her 12 hour span of night sleep to not waking up at all around 2.5 months in – I know, we are insanely blessed to have gotten such uninterrupted sleep for such a long block of time). But it did mean not-as-long daytime naps and a whole lot of frequent feedings to “tank up” during her waking hours in exchange for such an excellent night’s sleep. Heck, I will take it.

Blissfully, after turning ten months old Clara began stretching her feedings to every three hours, which felt remarkable. It is funny how an extra hour feels like all the freedom in the world. It is all relative I guess. At this point I was coming into the whole “I enjoy breastfeeding” phenomenon. I still felt grateful to be able to do it, Clara was a thriving glad girl, it was saving us money, it gave me a moment to step away from the computer/paint brush/hammer and connect with the bean, and it helped me get back into my old clothes (even though I do not think I will ever have my pre-baby body again, it is fine with me because Clara’s so worth it). I should add that I am a breastfeeding enthusiast when it comes to me and Clara, but I do not judge anyone else when it comes to what they choose for their family. Whatever works for you & your ducklings = my mantra as a parent in general.

The next speed bump that we encountered was when Clara turned a year old we introduced organic whole milk. The problem? Clara would not drink it. She still would not truly take a bottle so our doc recommended trying a sippy cup. It worked for water, but she refused to drink milk (and we tried about ten million distinct sippy cup varieties, tried slightly heating the milk, tried watering it down or mixing it with breast milk, etc). This is when I began fearing that she’d be 21 years old and still addicted to breastfeeding.

Next we tried almond milk at our doc’s advice, and she went for it (we think the thinner consistency seemed closer to breast milk so she was down). And slowly we mixed almond milk with whole organic milk and she made the transition to 100% whole organic milk at around 13 months. Yup, it took nearly a whole month to get her on board with it. She’s stubborn like her momma. Haha. Shockingly, that is when her feedings dropped waaay down. From around five times a day to simply two – once before bed and once in the morning. Which made me feel excited and free but sort of oddly sad at the same time. “My baby’s growing up, and she needs me less” was sort of how I felt. I know that is not truly true, but it is the best way I can describe the feeling.

By 13 months and three weeks she simply hoped a feeding in the morning when she woke up. Clara has consistently been the boss of this whole breastfeeding thing (since we opted to simply do the “on demand” thing from day one), so who am I to argue with the girl? Simply one morning feeding opened up a whole new world of evening lively for me and John thanks to his parents offering to babysit (we could see a movie or go out to dinner without Clara after over a year of not partaking in those activities – remarkable!). Of course I thought about her the whole time we were out, but I guess that is to be expected (picture me saying “I wonder what Clara’s doing right now” every ten minutes during our first movie together in over a year).

Two weeks later Clara was not even interested in her morning feeding. Which was sad because that is the one where we lie down next to each other and relax together. I know I sound crazy, but it was such a sweet way to start the day. To anyone who has yet to try it, nursing on your side while laying down = awesometown (they taught me that move at the hospital thanks to the whole c-section thing). And now it is over. So my current feelings are sad (because I will miss it) but proud (because I cannot believe I breastfed for over 14 months) and grateful (because I know being able to nurse that long or even at all certainly is not a given).

So that is my breastfeeding journey. Off to cry now (and I cannot even blame breastfeeding hormones for the tears). I know, I know, someone with a nickname that will not stick like $herdog should not be such a wuss. But it was an excellent/exhausting/remarkable/tiring/surprising journey that I am grateful to have experienced. Enjoy you baby girl. Even if you are over me my boobs.