In which I talk about breastfeeding

Here’s the thing. I have breasts. I use them to feed my kid. I’m going to talk about that for a minute, so I figured I’d give you the chance to leave now if that kind of thing isn’t your bag.

I never wondered whether I would feed my babies breast milk or formula. I knew I would breastfeed them. That’s just what moms do, I thought. So when my mother told me she only nursed me for six weeks or so, I was shocked. For some reason I’d assumed my siblings and I were all exclusively breastfed for much longer than that. Now that I think about it, though, I remember giving bottles of formula to my youngest brother, so clearly my “memories” of mom nursing us weren’t entirely accurate. However, breastfeeding always seemed like the easiest and most convenient way to go. It’s free. It’s portable. It’s healthy. It made sense to me.

When Amelia was born, she took to the boob like a fish to water. Sure, it hurt for a while, because it was new and weird and she was sometimes a little too enthusiastic toward a very sensitive part of my body, but we have never had the issues that I know many mothers and babies struggle with. No thrush. No mastitis. No difficulty latching or low milk production or anything. I loved that I could make food that perfectly met the needs of her little body. I loved that I could solve all her problems by nursing for a few minutes. She had to get shots at the doctor’s office? She bonked her head? She can’t fall asleep? She needs a snack RIGHT THIS VERY MINUTE? Whip out the pecho. Done and done. It’s miraculous, really.

Except that lately things have been different.

Before, I loved snuggling my girl and nursing her almost whenever she wanted. She found sustenance and comfort at my breast. We’ve had some sweet bonding time, playing with each other’s hair and making each other laugh as she eats. She was excited to nurse and contented afterward. I felt loved and needed.

Now, I get to snuggle her when we’re not nursing (she has only recently become a cuddler; before she would insist on facing outward instead of snuggling on my shoulder when I held her) and it doesn’t feel as convenient as it once did. She doesn’t need the calories from breast milk as much because she eats everything in sight, and she can often be distracted by a book or toy or song when she is sad. Instead of laughing and swooning over each other, I tend to read or surf the web while she nurses, and she will often hit or scratch or poke at me out of boredom. She insists on nursing but isn’t sweet about it, before or after. She calls me “Nah Nah,” which is what she calls pretty much all food. I’m only loved and needed because I’m the Big Milk Thing.

I always kind of assumed that we’d nurse until she decided she was done. Turns out I’m done and she’s not. In fact, she’d probably nurse till she started kindergarten if I let her. So I’m all, “No baby. No. Here, have a sippy cup. We’re not nursing right now. You’re not even hungry. NO.” And she’s all, “FEED ME SEYMOUR,” and tries to climb down my shirt.

Of course I’m still going back and forth. What if this is the only baby I ever get to breastfeed? What if I traumatize her by taking away her favorite thing? What if she doesn’t love me as much once she’s weaned? But mostly it’s not fun anymore and I don’t want to drag it out and make us both miserable just because I feel guilty or sad or whatever. Things change. We move on. Right?

Anyway, we’re going to start cutting off her supply. Stop allowing her to nurse just because she’s bored. Find other sources of comfort for when she’s hurt or sad. Ensure she gets enough other foods to keep her well-fed and healthy. And I’m taking any and all suggestions from people who have done this before because I have no idea how I’m going to keep saying no to this sweet face.

Know that there is no judgement whatsoever included in this  post. If you
didn’t or couldn’t or won’t or don’t want to breastfeed, I truly don’t
care. As long as your kid is eating, I’d say you’re doing your job the
best way you know how, and good for you.

Also know that
I’m not soliciting judgement either. Maybe you think breastfeeding is
weird and gross. Or you think the way I nurse (pretty freely and without
a schedule) is wrong. Or you think I’m bragging and need to come down
off my hippie mama high horse. Guess what? It’s none of your business.
My kid
is eating, and I’m doing my job the best way I know how, and good for
me.

The photos of Amelia are from Easter…as I’m sure you gathered from the plastic eggs.

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