Enough

DD, God bless her, recently decided that the only way she will agree to be soothed is to nurse. I think that part of it is that she's been with 2 different caregivers recently besides me, which is a routine we're going to be starting for this school year. Or it might possibly be her new way to stake a claim to mommy. She is highly competitive with her brother over my attention. When they're both playing independently --or together, for that matter --and he gives her a swipe or even if she just has her own little fall, she'll come crying to me to be nursed, and it's very hard to get her to let go of me after that. It's not that I don't love holding her and it's not that I don't feel privileged to be soothing her, it's just that it's not always easy for me to stop whatever I'm doing to sit down and nurse.

I'm considering quitting nursing altogether. In some regards, I think our lives would be easier without it. Then at least my husband could comfort her on some nights instead of the job always falling to me (though he does try, to give him credit.)

Also, I've pretty much sworn off nursing bras for now. The ones I own are terrible-- I should really do a blog post on that alone. I've been wearing my normal ones that actually look presentable under a t-shirt.

The funniest thing is that, as a nursing infant - a suckling-- she wasn't so into it. I mean, she was not nearly as enthusiastic a nurser as DS was. Now all of a sudden she wants it constantly.

Underwire Again

I've given up on nursing bras for now. I'm still breastfeeding but a lot less now. I never invested in any good nursing bras and they don't look good under any of my clothes. Not buying decent bras was a mistake I made with baby 1 and which continued to my second child. I worry about ruining the shape of my regular bras, and I don't think it's as comfortable for DD but at least I can wear t-shirts again.

Training Bra

I'm back to training bras, I realized today. I was standing in my bathrobe and selecting undergarments this morning when my sister walked in and fingered the bra I'd set aside. "It's a sleeping bra. A nursing sleeping bra." I told her. She wrinkled her nose. "THIS is what you wear during the day?" Sometimes. They were cheap-- a great big sale at Sears. Buy one get the second for $3. Looking back, I should have just splurged on a real nursing bra for forty-five bucks and then added an extra three to get second one. But yes, I can nurse and wear sleeping bras during the day. I am that small. They're not all that comfortable for me, actually. You can't adjust how tight you want them around your body. But the nursing mechanism is easy and effective. Also they don't do much to prevent leakage. But for the most part they're ok.

The Big Leak

I had a big leak today while teaching. I had to run to the classroom next door and borrow the teaching assistant's scarf to cover up the to huge wet spots on my bosom. My nipples were busting through my bra, t-shirt and thin sweater I was wearing. It got pretty uncomfortable for me. My boobs haven't been this rock hard in a long time. I don't think any of the students noticed or if they would even recognize it for what it was if they saw it. I don't even wear nursing pads that often anymore. Goes to show... you never can tell. Worst thing is that I had to hang around after work for an extra hour because of a staff meeting. BOY, was I glad to see DD when I got home. She was sleeping but she managed to make me feel a lot more comfortable even in her dream state.

Nursing Pads

I bought a package with three sets of reusable, washable, non-disposable nursing pads. I use them, throw them in the wash, and supplement with disposable breast pads if I need to. For the most part they're okay and they do they However, I think that if I had to buy some more, I'd go for a higher quality set because these ones are a little harsh against my skin. I'd like a softer, gentler fabric. Oh, and since I'm padding my bra anyway, I'd like one with a rounder cup. The edges of these, like the edges of the disposable pads, stick out and make a funny shape under my shirt, depending on which shirt/bra combination I'm wearing.

Nursing Bras

When I was nursing (and I plan on doing it again soon) bras were imperative for keeping the nursing pads in. Otherwise I would have huge wet marks across the fronts of my shirts. http://breastfeedingchronicles.blogspot.com . The problem was that I couldn't actually find a nursing bra that was small enough for me. They don't make them for virtually flat-chested women. Fortunately, the nursing pad helped fill it up.

I bring this up because I just read an articles about going bra-free: http://hubpages.com/hub/Why-I-Go-Bra-Free . The truth is, it took me until age 15 to start wearing bras at all and then it was only because my nipples were poking through my shirts. Some people don't mind that, but it didn't go over well at a religious school-- and anyway I don't like it.

Nursing Pads

I just saw an article that recommends getting the cotton nursing/bra pads instead of the disposable kind because they're softer. Well, I have better reasons than that. A couple of times, after a particularly leaky or sweaty night, DS looked up from my breast into my tired face and breathed out a mouthful of cotton. Those things disintegrate! Especially the cheap ones. Not only that, but the reusable ones are, of course, more environmentally friendly than their disposable counterparts.

I also recommend bringing the nursing/bra pads to the hospital with you. You never know how long you're going to be there and your milk might come in, as mine did, with a vengance. I only had a couple of shirts with me (I snubbed hospital gowns after wearing them for the first couple of days) and they both got real stinky real fast. I had a lot of leakage when I was nursing. He'd be eating from one and the second one would leak like a dyke with a hole in it. Or I'd be just one minute too late getting my nursing bra loose and I'd have two geysers sprouting from my chest. Nursing pads were my saving grace in those first few months. I was never without them.

Before The Begining

One of the reasons I was a little hesitant to start this blog is that it requires talking about my breasts. I am a rather private person, though less so nowadays when it comes to my mammaries. Forgive me if I use slangy words like 'boobs' or 'hooters' or 'honkers' occasionally. It helps to liven things up.

There is a story of Winston Churchill-- I think-- who was hosting eh... someone British... eh... I have to look up the exact circumstances... for dinner. Chicken was on the menu and the guest was offered drumsticks or breast. "Breast!" She exclaimed "How vile to refer to it as such. The proper way to refer to this cut of chicken is 'white meat.'"
Thinking this hilarious, old Winston (again, I'll check the details) later sent her a brooch with an attached note reading "Thank you for the pleasure of your company. I hope that you will pin this brooch upon your white meat."

The quotes, of course, were made up by me, but you get the point of the story.

Anyway, I never had much white meat before the start of my pregnancy. Even during my pregnancy, my bra size went up by one back size, though the cup remained the same. My relative smallness never bothered me. Well, at least it never bothered me from about age 15 onwards when I discovered how blessed I was to be able to participate in athletic activities with only one wimpy bra instead of two sports bras as some of my bigger-chested friends had to do. I never even wore a bra regularly until age 14 or 15, as I remember it. I have always been able to buy cheap, cute, flimsy bras, though admittedly I leaned towards ones with a little bit of padding, not for their filling nature but to avoid the dreaded 'nippleitis'.

During my pregnancy, I would look down at my white meat in much the same way that I did in my early teenagerhood, waiting for something to sprout. Just like in my 'tweens, they never did. The only thing that happened was that my nipples started to dry up and crack. It wasn't painful, or at least not too much, as I remember it. And it might have had to do with the chlorine in the local pool. Still, the change had me worried, having heard horror stories of cracked and bleeding nipples while breastfeeding. I put mineral oil on them and it eventually went away. Looking back, I wonder if my dried nipples had anything to do with the incredibly, embarrassingly itchy scalp I had for a few months of my pregnancy. But that's not in the realm of this blog.

right now i am typing with my left hand only while my son feeds on my

Okay, that's over now. It's hard to type with one hand. Instead of trying to write out what was happening, I made myself a list of topics to make sure to visit in subsequent blog entries. They're at the bottom of this entry.

Now where was I? Oh yes, waiting.

My labour was induced in week 38 due to oligohydremanaise. This is most definitely the wrong spelling of the word. Until that point, there was no sign of milk, as far as I could tell, and my future as a breastfeeding mom seemed mysterious and distant. I had no idea what to expect. I had no idea when to expect it. On top of it wall, I was convinced that the baby was not ready to come out. I still think it was too early, but I'm slowly letting go of the outrage. So after the delivery when they handed me the baby (each sentence here has a whole blog's worth of stories to go with it...) and told me to feed it, I said 'I can't. I have no milk. I was induced and I am early. I'm not ready.' And I wasn't-- at least mentally. I don't remember if it was the midwife or our cousin Malka-- a pediatrician-- who said 'sure you do' and reached over and gave my breast a squeeze. Pffft. Out came milk. There it was. Miracle of miracles. I think this amazed me more than the birth itself. I mean, I figured that a baby was going to come out of the whole process, but milk? Who knew?

Looking back, I think it was the midwife.

I put the baby up to my chest and suck suck suck... he hasn't stopped ever since. There was some talk in the beginning of latching and this and that but pretty much he got it right away and I got it right away and it was good. Then they snatched him away from me and took him to the nursery. Stories stories stories. For another time.

Incidentally, my nipples have never cracked, nor have they ever bled or even been dry since I've begun breastfeeding (pu pu pu). When I mentioned this at a female consortium on the horrors of X (ie anytime two or more moms get together and start exchanging stories), it turned out that the other two moms present had experienced some very painful episodes of said cracking. I guess I'm lucky that way.


List of topics I should come back to:

breASTFEEDING at the computer and other acrobatics thgen learning to relax/sleep
learrning to sleep
pacy anxiety
food anxiety
scratchinf
hickies
bruising
smiles
latching laughs story
tube socks
overnigh breasts
the pump
disintegr. liners
blocked duct
calories
drink or no?
feeding in public
nicknqames muncha
lactation nurse
feelings passed thru breastmilk