Aug. 1-7 is World Breastfeeding Week. This is the 20th year that it's been known. I don't know who started it or how it started, but it did, and I think it's fantastic. Many of you know that I'm a huge fan of breastfeeding. This also happens to be the first year in 9.5, that I am not nursing a child. It's pretty bittersweet for me.
I never intended to nurse my babies past infancy. I never intended to nurse more than one child at a time (gasp!). As with much of parenting, you end up doing what feels right to you. You follow your gut. You follow your child's lead. So, walk with me through memory lane, as I reflect on my years of parenting and nursing (which was all of them, until about 2 months ago, and I'll get to that, too). Fair warning, I will be mentioning my breasts, nipples, the milk, aka liquid gold, that my body makes, and older, preschool children nursing in this post. If you don't want to read about those things, don't.
Yes, you read correctly when I said I have nursed for all of my parenting years. I nursed for 9.5 straight years. No break. When my first son was born, I knew, without question, that I was going to nurse him. I had a 1 year timeline. 1 year of breastfeeding seemed really long. It wasn't an easy start. He had a tiny mouth and a tiny latch, and, let's face it, there's nothing tiny about my nipples. It was hard, grueling work to feed that wee boy, but I pressed on. I was determined. It never felt right. Everyone said it shouldn't hurt. But it did. And it continued to for a very long time. With no frame of reference, I assumed that's just what nursing felt like. And it was a year. I could certainly sacrifice my own comfort for my baby son for 1 year of his life.
However, at about 5 months, the pain became unbearable. Toe-curling, lip-biting, wanting to scream my head off kind of pain. I went to La Leche League. I had no obvious signs of any problems, baby's latch was good by this point. They couldn't help. I went to a lactation consultant. She gave me some lanolin and recommended some cream that I had to get prescribed by my doctor, so I also saw my doctor. The cream made it worse. Why couldn't these people help me?!?! I was in tears almost every time I nursed.
Around this time, some friends lent us their computer for a few months. This was the first at home computer I had ever owned. And the first time I had ever had access to the internet in my own home. I started searching and searching about nipple pain and I discovered www.drjaygordon.com. He talked about thrush. He described my pain perfectly. No, I didn't have red nipples. No, my son's mouth was not all white inside. Nothing on the outside to show we had thrush, but we did! No live person could help me, and in fact, the lanolin and creams made it worse by locking in the moisture that the yeast was thriving on. So, I tried Dr. Gordon's remedy (which you can find on that website under breastfeeding problems/thrush). By this time, Ethan was 9 months old. Yes, I suffered intense, excruciating pain every time he nursed, for 4 whole months. I used the remedy. Within two days, I nursed my baby boy for the FIRST TIME in his whole life, with no pain. I remember where I was, too. I was sitting in the rocking chair in his bedroom, and I sat there and cried and laughed and he laughed because mama was laughing, and I said, "THIS is what breastfeeding is supposed to be like!" It took 9 months.
So, by the time he was 1, there was no WAY I was ready to stop. I only just started to enjoy it! And he wasn't ready, either. He was attached to me almost constantly. And our bond was so close. So, without even meaning to, I was suddenly nursing a toddler. He nursed day and night until he turned 2. Then, I did do some gentle nightweaning, which was actually very difficult, but he eventually adjusted. But the daytime nursing was something neither of us wanted to give up. It was comfort before and after sleeps, it was extra cuddles after he would hurt himself. And for my oldest child, who had sensory issues with food, it was definitely sustenance. He got most of his calories for those first few years, from breastmilk.
As he got older, the amount he would nurse decreased. I got pregnant 3 times while nursing Ethan. I lost the first two, but then the 3rd one stuck. He nursed all through my pregnancy. Even when it became obvious that there was pretty much no milk there. One evening, at bedtime, he was 3.5, he snuggled in to nurse, as usual, and after a few minutes, he abruptly got up and went into the kitchen. I asked him what he was doing. He said he was thirsty, he was getting a drink of water. Oh, how I laughed. He nursed right up until his brother was born, hatching a plan in his head that one breast would be for him and one would be for the baby. His milk was chocolate-flavoured (so I was told), but the baby would just have regular milk.
Silas was born and two days later, Ethan went to nurse at bedtime, as he usually did. He latched on and then off, almost right away. He looked at me and said, very decidedly. "I'm not going to have milk anymore. It's the baby's milk now." It was so like him. It was so like him to make such a firm decision in HIS timing. It was the sweetest, most gracious gift he could give his baby brother. I tear up still, thinking about Ethan's weaning. Altogether, Ethan nursed 3 years, 11 months, 3 weeks, and 3 days. He stopped exactly one week before his 4th birthday.
Silas was a different baby. He nursed easily and efficiently from day one. Where it would take Ethan up to an hour to finish a feed and empty my breast, Silas would take 10-15 minutes, 20 minutes tops! I worried excessively that he wasn't getting enough because he was just so quick. But his rapid growth soon reassured me, and I learned it was just the way he was. In spite of his efficiency, he still was very attached, and the continuation of breastfeeding into toddlerhood and beyond was second-nature. I did it without even thinking. If my young child wanted to nurse, great! When Silas was 11 months old, he spent a month with chicken pox, followed immediately by roseola. What on earth would I have done to get him through those miserable nights and those insanely high fevers, without breastmilk? Illness, injuries, good days and bad, breastmilk and breastfeeding were a staple that was as natural to my parenting as brushing my kids' teeth and singing them songs at bedtime.
I got pregnant 2 times while nursing Silas. The first, I lost again, and then the next was Rory. I nursed all through my pregnancy again, Silas not mentioning or noticing as the milk changed and decreased. He was much younger than Ethan was when Silas was born. Si was only just over 2.5 when Rory came along. He was not at all ready to give up nursing, so, for a little over 6 months, I "tandem nursed". It wasn't easy. Perhaps if I'd had a spouse, it would have been easier. What it became was stressful. Whenever Silas wanted to nurse, which was only a couple of times a day, I had to put Rory down (even right beside me), and no matter what, she would cry. He would nurse, and she'd be crying. My anxiety levels were almost through the roof. I tried nursing them both at the same time once. That didn't work. Not for me. I know mothers who have done it. I don't know how!
So, I was sad. I was sad that nursing Silas had lost a bit of its comfort and snuggliness, because of the constant crying baby. He didn't seem to get upset. He always seemed relaxed, even if I wasn't. For that, I am grateful. But one day, when I was a bit frazzled (3 days before we left New Zealand to come back to Canada), he refused to nurse at naptime. I thought nothing of it, and was relieved at the moment. As the weeks went by, and I would offer my breast, he continued to say no, and it became clear he was done. With a baby still nursing at my breast, it didn't feel sad or bittersweet. I guess, with the anxiety of it all, I was a little relieved. I felt guilty about that for awhile, my relief. I have gotten over it, as Silas was not at all negatively affected. Altogether, Silas nursed 3 years, 2 months, 2 weeks, and 6 days.
And my Rory. Well, I was quite certain Rory would be like Ethan. It started out the same, with a tiny latch, a bit lazy, and it took a fair bit of work on both our parts for it to become comfortable. Thankfully, we avoided thrush (in fact, I never had thrush with Silas, either), but this rough start threw me for a loop. I was an experienced breastfeeder. I had nursed for 6.5 years. I knew what I was doing! But there I was, at La Leche League (the best one in the whole world, as far as I'm concerned, go Palmerston North LLL!!), lamenting about this baby who was having latch issues. There I was, poring through The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding like I was a first time mum!
It all came right in the end and we settled into a good routine. We spent 14 hours on a plane, when she was almost 7 months old, attached to my breast for well over half of that. She slept with me exclusively, not even having her own bed, until she was over 2 years old. Slowly, like her brothers, she cut back to basically just before and after sleep. And oh, how she loved her milk. When I would go out and my parents would babysit, she would ask if grandma had some milk for her, then when that was a dead end, she would ask if grandpa had some. She just loved her milk and it only made sense that the people she loved best should be able to provide that warm, sweet goodness.
Then, two months ago, she stopped. She stopped suddenly. One night, she latched on, and it was a lazy latch (because she often resorted to old habits at times). So, I unlatched her and told her to open wide. She said no. She didn't want milk. I figured it was just a one-time thing and when she crawled into bed with me the next morning, as she always did, she would sleepily nurse and we'd snuggle, as was our morning ritual. But she didn't. Oh, she crawled into bed. She snuggled in, but made no attempt to nurse. I whispered, "Do you want milk?" She whispered back, eyes closed, "No" and went to sleep.
This pattern of refusing went on for the next several days. I was almost beside myself. First off, my breasts were very full. I mean, really, I think they were in as much shock as I was, as a child had nursed from them every day for 9.5 years. And I wasn't ready. Rory, I wasn't ready! I was ready when Ethan weaned. I had a new baby. Ethan was just about 4. It was time. Same with Silas. I had a new baby. There was someone to replace my last nursling. I was certain Rory would nurse past 3, like her brothers. With her deep, deep love of mama's milk, I was quite sure she would near 4. She is my last baby. I have struggled mightily with that. I have mourned the fact that I will never be pregnant or nurse a tiny newborn again. I wasn't ready. I wasn't ready for it to be so sudden. Couldn't she have "weaned me gently", like this poem (which makes me weep, by the way)? http://www.breastfeeding.com/reading_room/wean_me_gently.html But no, this was how it was going to be. She was done. And she was happy. And I drew comfort and reassurance from that. Every day SHE wanted to nurse, she did. She weaned on her terms, which is how I've always wanted ALL my babies to wean. I guess I didn't expect the emotional turmoil it would throw me into. I'm fine now. I still make milk. I don't know how long my body will keep producing it. It has dramatically changed flavours since she weaned (yes, I've tasted my breastmilk), having gone super salty. I had to read up on that, too, as I've never weaned a child, and I was also reassured that the body does indeed produce salty milk when no child is stimulating the production. I'm not sure, in future, when it dries up, how I will treat eye infections. I have used breastmilk for eyes for my entire parenting career so far. It's a miracle drug. I'll be sad when I have to use drugstore eyedrops. I asked her for weeks if she wanted breastmilk. She always happily declined. She weaned the youngest of all my babies. She could have gone the longest, with no baby replacing her, but she went the shortest. Full of surprises, she is. Altogether, Rory nursed 2 years, 8 months, 3 weeks, and 6 days.
I will celebrate World Breastfeeding Week without a nursling this year. So very bittersweet. But I'm onto a new chapter of my parenting life. I believe breastfeeding my children has set them up with healthy, strong immune systems. I believe it has given them antibodies against any number of illnesses that could have messed them up without it. I believe extended nursing will have effects long into their adulthood. I don't regret one day of it. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Someday, I hope to help and encourage my daughter when and if she nurses her own babies. If they'll let me, I hope to do the same with my daughters-in-law, if I'm lucky enough to have some. I will forever be a breastfeeding advocate, even if there isn't a baby at my breast.
Got milk?
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