Previous to having a baby, I had no idea my body had this “feature.” I’m not completely dense, I had heard the rumors. But I didn’t exactly realize that I would become a human vending machine for my children. I had no idea to what capacity that meant.
I stick my boob in a kid’s mouth and they get nourishment? Huh? So I did it. And it worked. But I did it completely weirded out by the whole phenomenon and yearning for my body back. Not too different than now, however I’m so committed to not having to pay to feed another mouth that I will in fact stick with it. On top of the sleeplessness, the inability to separate from your newborn without many arrangements, and the fact that going back to work meant pumping in my car (glamorous), I cashed in with Drew around 3 months.
With Gabby, much like many things with parenthood, I got it a little more. I appreciated the fact that nursing her meant slowing down my life a little and carving out some Mommy/Gabby time in an otherwise Drew world. However, I never expected to make it that long so we booked a trip to Sonoma (long before I realized I was going to stick with this) and was going to have to give up at 9 months. I’m sure the truck drivers that saw me pumping in my car were going to miss me breastfeeding.
This time out of my competitive nature, coupled with the fact that formula is insanely expensive, and duh…the obvious benefit for the kid (something like that), I’m determined to make it a year. But I am completely and totally not happy about it.
For one, the whole nursing thing prevents anyone from helping me get sleep. Pediatrician mentioned (probably because I looked like the most sleep deprived, miserable human being the last time I saw her and weeks later look even worse) that I should let my husband give Noah a bottle in the night so I can sleep. Oh great, so I can get up simultaneously and pump or just wake up ridiculously engorged. Sounds like the perfect solution.
Second of all, I will never get over the distaste of whipping my boob out in order to feed this kid in the most inopportune places. I, of course, use a “hooter hider” but it’s no secret what’s going on behind the thin layer of fabric separating my boob from the rest of the world. And because of that, I frequently watch people squirm as I do and feel even more uncomfortable with the fact that I have to do it.
Thirdly, it’s near impossible in a given day to feed my baby for a half an hour and the result not be that we are late for something. When one kid goes here, the other goes there and both of them move slower than molasses…it takes us a good two hours to get anywhere. So much for the peaceful, serene, mother/son bonding while serving breakfast, putting on shoes, and wiping kids’ butts with a baby attached to my boob.
And lastly, is that we are finding that the only way to soothe this insanely colicky baby is for me to nurse. So I have literally become his human pacifier. Only so I can get an hour of peace and quiet before I attempt another sleepless night. The thought of being in my body without a child inside, hanging on me or attached to me sounds like a vacation at this point.
What’s a year in the scheme of things??? 365 days. 52 weeks. So if Noah is 9 weeks today, it means I only have 43 more weeks left. Wow, that really puts things in perspective…(insert sarcasm here)