I was nervous about a few things when I looked ahead to having baby number 2. Would I have enough love/time/energy to spread between two, and not let number 1 suffer? Yes, but it now becomes quality over quantity that matters. Would I be able to handle the lack of sleep that I never quite recovered from the first time? Grandmas are amazing. And would I have the same difficulties with breastfeeding that I had the first time around? Yes, and no.
When my daughter was born I was under the illusion that breastfeeding was a natural, easy and cheap way to feed my baby. Not so much. Anyone who tells a first time mom that breastfeeding comes easily and that both Mom and Baby “just know what to do” should be shot. That belief had me in tears for weeks, months, while I tried to figure out what I was doing wrong the first time around. I made it nearly 3 months with my daughter. That’s about the time that my hubby realized that the stress of trying to do “the right thing” was going to kill us all and convinced me it was okay to stop. I admit, I gave up, but only after spending more than 50% of every single day either breastfeeding, pumping, bottle feeding, mixing formula, packing myself with heat packs, massaging and taking teeny little pills a bunch of times per day. I’m sure there were other things I did too, but thankfully my brain has blocked that trauma out. I cried more tears over breastfeeding my daughter than I have over every other cry-able thing in my life combined. That includes all of my angst ridden teenage years. I was determined to do things differently this time, but that didn’t mean an automatic formula fed baby.
I understand the reasoning and the benefits of breastfeeding, which is why I, like so many other moms, fight so hard to do it. What I don’t understand is the fanatical attitude that so many people take when it comes to moms who just can’t do it. I decided to give myself a break this time, just relax about it and hope for the best. I was able to anticipate the potential issues I would have (like my milk not coming in until Baby was 5 days old, then disappearing as rapidly as it appeared) and wrangle whatever help I could from nurses, doctors and public health services. Things are less frustrating this time around, but not exactly more fruitful. There are so many things that can go wrong, many of which are beyond my control, like Baby’s latch or how much milk my body is willing to produce. Yes, there are things I can do to help and I’m doing them, but even then it’s no guarantee. I am definitely feeling better about breastfeeding, though. I’m not feeling so guilty or frightened that if I don’t breastfeed until my son is at least a year old he’ll be a chronically ill, dumb, badly behaved child. That is definitely not what I got with my daughter. She’s brilliant, healthy and well-behaved (for the most part, anyway, she is two). Maybe that’s why I feel better this time around. I know it’s all beyond my control and all I can do is my best effort. I’d just really like my best effort to give me a better result. I’m working on it, but even if it doesn’t work out, I know that I tried and my son will have more love than he knows what to do with. That’s the important thing, right? Love. So, to all the breastfeeding fanatics out there, back off, I don’t want or need your speeches. I may have barely enough milk (at this point), but I have more than enough love.
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