Goodbye, breastfeeding

It's World Breastfeeding Week and Bobbin has chosen this time to self wean. The irony is not lost on me.

She has been in the process of weaning for many months now, at times going a full week without a feed. But this time we are at two weeks, and it feels like it is forever.

I've been pregnant, breastfeeding or both for seven years straight.

I could see our breastfeeding journey was coming to an end soon, or, more accurately, I could feel it was nearly over.

Bobbin's latch has been changing. Some days she would be fine and other days she would treat my nipple like a straw and not surprisingly, would get very little milk as a result. If it had been a few days between feeds, she would take a few tries to get her latch right, as if she was forgetting how to do it.

We have been down to one feed a day, just first thing in the morning to allow us all to sleep a little longer, for a long time now. There's been a few random day time feeds when she has been sick or upset, but it's not her go-to.

I'm surprised how similar the two weanings have been despite the different circumstances. Tricky weaned at around two and a half years because when I got pregnant my minimal supply dropped off and it freakin' hurt every time he latched, so I started refusing some feeds and he would shrug his shoulders and have a drink of water instead. Then he just stopped asking. It was all very painless, at least for him. I, on the other hand, felt like someone was slicing my nipples off with razor blades for those last months when pregnancy made them so sensitive.

Bobbin is just shy of three, so she has fed a few months longer than her brother, but the gradual, no fuss weaning has been almost identical. When she would hurt me with the incorrect latch I'd take her off and she'd quite happily take water, "Bobbin's milk" (soy in a bottle), or go and play. Then she stopped asking all together.

I'm glad they have both pretty much weaned in their own time, with only slight encouragement from me. It's been a gentle process and we've all adjusted well.

I always pictured myself breastfeeding my children, but at the beginning I never saw myself as a full term feeder. I guess because I'd never seen it before. It was only the blog world and the interwebs that taught me it was even a thing, and when my kids hit twelve months and were still very reliant on their "mum cuddles" (Tricky) and "mum milkies" (Bobbin) the idea of forcing them to switch to the milk of a different mammal seemed bizarre. So they kept nursing and I just went with what they wanted.

I'm not sad that it's over, though. I don't pine for those moments, though I look back on them with such fondness. Tiny hands grabbing at my shirt, little fingers exploring my face, that milk drunk face. Then as they got older, that immediate calm that would come over them when they fed, no matter what was happening around them - immunisations, blood tests and even removal of stitches. They were super boobs and could solve any problem.

It has been the cliche honour and privilege to be able to breastfeed my children and donate milk to premature babies. It hasn't been easy (nipple staph infection anyone?) but it has been worth it for us.

But I'm done. And I'm happy.

Dear Me...

Dear Me circa June/July 2010,

Brand new baby? Check.
Set of boobs? Check.
Read everything ever written about the benefits of mama’s milk? Check.
Steely determination to reap said benefits? Check.
Supportive partner? Check.
Smooth sailing breastfeeding? Erm, lemme get back to you on that one.

Oh, Glow, look at you. You’ve got that new mama look about you – the sleepy but serene look of someone so in love. You’re also got that weird crick neck thing going on from looking at your beautiful babe for hours on end – the books never warn you about that one, it hurts after a while so remember to swap arms.

You’re about to embark on a journey that at the time will seem like an endless slog of long painful nights, but in reality, it is only a blip on the radar. I’m talking about your first few weeks and months of breastfeeding.

There will be hurdles. Oversupply. Thrush. Golden Staph (don’t worry, it doesn’t look gross). Pain. They will seem insurmountable in your sleep deprived state. You’ll sit there at night thinking “just one more week” but not really be sure what you mean by it. One more and you’ll give up? Or one more and it will all be alright?

And then, one day you’ll stop and think “Hey, it feels OK. I wonder when that happened?” When it stopped being a chore and started being beautiful. And you won’t be able to pinpoint it exactly, but somewhere, after not too long, it just all started working. Which is so great because not only is looking at chubby star fish hands patting your breast while a toothless grin erupts over your child’s face (never dropping the nipple!) just adorable, but you’re more than a bit lazy and very forgetful so we all know you’d suck at remembering bottles and would complain endlessly about washing them.

One day, not far from now, when it has become second nature for you both, you will barely remember the hassles. No, really. I know you’re struggling right this second, dreading the next feed, but time goes so fast. Trust me. It will be fantastic when you get the right advice from a lactation consultant. 

It’s important, though, to not hinge your worthiness as a parent on this fabulous milk producing malarkey your mammaries are capable of. Because when you become unwell for a few days and experience a massive drop in supply you’ll feel like a failure. And well, that’s just a bit bloody stupid.

Your aim, to get to twelve months? Girl, you’ve got that shit covered and then some so don’t stress. In fact, you’re going to feed your first born for almost triple that. Thirty two months. Some people will call you all sorts of names for doing it, but you need to trust in yourself and what you know about sustained breastfeeding and its benefits. Surround yourself with supportive people and ignore the naysayers.

But in saying that, remember to respect each mama’s right to choose how and when she feeds her precious bundle and for god’s sake share some of that abundant milk supply around to others who need it and become a milk donor sooner rather than later. Seriously, girl, your boobs don't fit in any tops, do it now.

Happy breastfeeding.

Love Glow x

P.S. Then you'll do it all again and with that bit of confidence, you'll jump the hurdles so much quicker. Believe in yourself and believe in the power of the BOOB!

What would you tell your new mama self about breastfeeding?

This post is part of the Dear Me series being run to promote the new Online Breastfeeding Cafe. Developed by the Australian Breastfeeding Association, this new initiative aims to target women who may feel ambivalent about breastfeeding and encourage them to share, discover and chat about breastfeeding via a supportive online forum and resource centre. You can also check out the Online Breastfeeding Cafe's Facebook page.

Breastfeeding - the second time around

Bobbin's first breastfeed - less than 10 minutes old

Breastfeeding is such a natural thing... that didn't come very naturally to me at all last time. I struggled. A lot. Despite reading all about it, joining the Australian Breastfeeding Association, attending meetings and seeing three lactation consultants.

It took two months for anyone to realize that I had a massive oversupply and was drowning the Trickster, making him pull back and have an incorrect latch. Hello cracked, bleeding nipples and a world of pain. I also got nipple thrush a few times and just as it cleared up a lovely golden staph infection. Niiiice.

I ended up pumping half of Tricky's feeds just to give my poor nipples a break. It took a while, but we got there and soon enough (though it didn't feel quick at the time!) we found our stride. And then some.

I thought this time around, with a bit of experience up my, err, bra, and a stack of confidence, I would be one of those women who just puts their child to their breast and VOILA, perfect, painless breastfeeding from day dot. Nup. I was wrong.

I had enough milk for twins again. Which is fantastic if you actually have twins and much less wonderful if you only have a singleton. Every time I've mentioned I have an oversupply of breastmilk there is always the same few reactions:

If the woman I'm chatting with has experienced similar they tend to give a sorry smile quickly followed by some great tips about how they coped in those early weeks before it regulates.

If the woman has battled to breastfeed thanks to an undersupply, generally the first thing I hear is "You're so lucky!".

Um, I'm not actually. I'm the first to admit that out of the two I'd prefer to have an oversupply, but it really isn't as cut and dry as a well fed babe. It is freakin' painful.

Having enough milk that your chest rivals that of the latest porn starlet is not fun. Not even for the partner looking at those super boobs because OMG I LOVE YOU BUT IF YOU TOUCH THEM YOU WILL DIE. It bloody hurts to be almost constantly engorged. Even with cold packs and cabbage, the pain is pretty bad.

The thing that does make me lucky is that this time around I know how to handle it straight away, rather than waiting for weeks and getting all sorts of different, conflicting advice. Just like last time, I had so much milk that at first, I couldn't get Bobbin to latch on at all - imagine a tiny newborn mouth trying to latch on to a basket ball. Every lactation consultant will tell you it is breast feeding not nipple feeding but with a rock hard boobie, nipple is the only thing Bobbin could get.


So I would express off a little to make it soft enough for her to latch - which is always great fun to do when your baby goes from yeah, feeling a little peckish to FEEEEED MEEEEE NOOOOOOW screaming in about thirty seconds. So sometimes I would just let her feed with a bad latch for a few minutes then reposition her - which I really don't recommend. Ouch.

With expressing off a tiny bit I was getting up to 250ml of excess milk a day which I have frozen for whenever we may need it (read: when I want to have a couple of glasses of wine). And slowly, but surely, with only expressing the absolute minimum for comfort and latch, the milk level has been dropping and is much more manageable now to the point where I only have to do it in the mornings now. Huzzah! It gives new meaning to supply and demand curves (thank you year eleven economics).

That and block feeding is what saved us again. Even though block feeding does mean I look like a lopsided porn star at times, it is a price I'm willing to pay!

It might not have been instant success but it has come so much quicker this time and I'm SO grateful that I can breastfeed Bobbin because I know how many people struggle with it. I'm in a position that some people envy, and while I can't change the breastfeeding experience of anyone else, I can give milk to those babies who really need it - I'm back donating milk again to the PREM Bank at King Edward Memorial Hospital. I've been unable to donate blood for a long time due to a heap of reasons including being either pregnant or breastfeeding or both for the last four years, so it feels bloody good to be able to donate my milk again.

Did you have an easier time breastfeeding second/third/fourth/etc time around?

Talking about my boobs again

So guess who got another writing job?! Thanks blawg!

I am super excited to announce that I’ll be sharing a few of my breastfeeding stories at the how2breastfeed website in the coming months! I have a lot of feeding stories – when you feed for this long that’s what happens. I see this as a massive win/win situation - I can pass on the knowledge I’ve gained to those who might need a bit of a hand and I get another forum to talk about my boobs in! HOORAY!

I thought I’d prepared for breastfeeding as much as possible by researching everything while I was pregnant. I figured that in the sleepless few weeks of new parenthood I wouldn’t know my ass from my elbow so best get as much info as I could before that happened. 

The start of my breastfeeding journey (because you always have to use the word journey) was shaky. All the books I’ve read, all the midwives and all the lactation consultants I’ve ever had experience with told me “if he’s latched on properly, it won’t hurt”.

I have one word for you. Bullshit. That's not always the case.

My nipples obviously did not get that memo. You know why? Because I was busy being filled with conflicting information about how long I should leave Tricky to feed as a newborn. It seemed every book, and every specialist had a different set of "rules".

My midwife told me to leave Tricky to nurse an hour, which did turn out to be true for us ONCE MY MILK CAME IN. It was definitely not the way to go when all I had was colostrum. Her advice (based on the fact that she assumed Tricky was five days old rather than 12 hours old) led to some rather nasty damage and a truck load of pain despite the fact he had latched on well.

With a start like that I sometimes wonder how on earth we managed to come this far. Then I remember I’m stubborn and have been known to take on proving people’s assumptions of me wrong as a bit of a hobby.

Was he really ever this small?

But even with my arsenal of knowledge, I still felt like I needed someone to tell me I was doing OK, to answer my questions and assure me it would get easier. I would have loved to have the how2breastfeed DVD. I would have watched it at 2am when I was awake with a starving baby who was screaming the house down as I figured out how exactly I was meant to hold him.

Hold his neck not his head? What? Won't that hurt him?! GAH someone just tell me what to do!

To see real mums, watch them feed, hear their stories and know that it does get better, right in your own lounge room... worth it’s weight in gold.

Did you have a shaky start to breastfeeding?  Where did you get your support from?

This post is not a standard sponsored post, but is part of my ongoing work for how2breastfeed which is a paid position.

The other 1% - Fullterm breastfeeding

On Friday, a good friend in my mothers' group asked if I'd see the cover of Time Magazine with the woman breastfeeding on the cover.

I hadn't, so she described it to me. A woman, standing up, with her almost four year old child at her breast while he stood on a stool in front of her.

Associated Press / May 11, 2012

She found it a bit icky. And that's OK. I'm in the glorious position of being a supportive and diverse mothers' group where just because we have different stories and different ideals doesn't mean we one-up and think our way is best. We have breastfeeders, bottle feeders, caesarian births, vaginal births, epidural births and drug free birthss. Between us we have eight beautiful kids; day care kids, grandparent care kids, dairy free kids, nut free kids, shy kids and outgoing kids. It's a mish mash microcosm of society in one little group. It's perfect. Bit I digress.

Back to the photo. It's a rather provocative cover. I expect it rubs a few people the wrong way because in our rather sheltered culture it's not common to see women breastfeeding their older children. I wonder how much of that is because the child doesn't take much milk any more and it's less likely to happen outside the home, and how much of it is because those who do feed their older child feel the stares of passersby and hide away for fear of comments?

The photo doesn't bother me. But I'm slightly crunchy and have been around full term feeders at the ABA, so I understand I'm biased.
 
Some of the very vocal backlash to the photo (including it being taken of stands in some supermarkets) has been because the woman is wearing tight, sexy clothes (yes, jeans, a singlet and ballet flats are totes sexy)... because obviously anyone breastfeeding should automatically become asexual. Surely she should be wearing frumpy maternity clothing with bows on it? Newsflash: breastfeeding doesn't stop you being a sexual person - see those people with two children breastfeeding? Or pregnant and breastfeeding? OMG THEY HAD SEX! 

Other comments have been centred around the look to camera... because shouldn't they be looking adoringly in to each others eyes if it's genuine bonding and not some debauched sexual act? Newsflash: I've not seen a child stare in to it's mother's eyes while feeding much past the six month mark where the world suddenly gets really interesting. Tricky looks anywhere but at me unless he's really tired.

In Australia (according to the ABS), by age two, only 1% of children are receiving breastmilk. In less than a month, all things remaining equal, Tricky will fall in to that 1%.

I think I deserve to get some sort of prize for breastfeeding this long. Like a boob shaped trophy or something. Or at least a nice, new bra.

When the majority of people find out I'm still feeding the Trickster they looked surprised. Then, inevitably, the very first question is "when are you going to wean him?". I don't see how it's anyone else's business, really, but depending on my mood I'll either answer "when he's ready" or "when he's 17, because feeding an 18 year old would be TOTALLY GROSS!".

When I was pregnant, my goal was to feed for twelve months. That was quickly reassessed to "please let me feed til three months" when nipple thrush and a staph infection (yes, in MY NIPPLE!) had me in tears every hourly feed (yes, HOURLY!).

But through perseverance, education and a lot of fear of failure stubbornness, I got there. And then some.

So here I am feeding a (not quite) two year old. It is very different to feeding a newborn, and it's very different to feeding a twelve month old.

He feeds every morning when he wakes up which guarantees me an extra half hour to an hour of sleep as he lays there, dozing on and off at my breast. An hour is a long time at 4:00am when you're sleep deprived.

Sometimes he'll feed after a nap, and he gets free reign if he's sick, both for the comfort and to keep his fluids up. Recently when he was unwell and he was refusing food and water, he would breastfeed and I knew he was at least getting something.

He will pull away from one side and ask for "More milk?" before latching on to the other side. I wonder if it tastes different?

I understand that some people think it's weird, and that if a child can ask for milk then they're too old to have it... Tricky, thanks to baby sign language, has been able to ask for milk since he was six months old. Should I have weaned him then?

I don't know when we'll wean. There's been a few times when I thought it was the end of our journey, like when I was going away to conferences, and savoured the closeness of our "last feed", only to have him eagerly return to the breast as if nothing had happened.

For now, I'll relish the fleeting moments we have together... and quietly revel in my ability to provoke awkward looks from others.

Did the Time cover make you squirm? Why? Why not?
All opinions are welcome here, but please be respectful.

To Wean or Not To Wean, That Is The Question

I haven't been sleeping. For about a week now I've managed to get only two - three hours a night thanks to my brain refusing to shut up. So when I couldn't sleep I wrote...

___ . . . ___ . . . ___

It's 11:22pm and I have to be up in six hours. But I can't sleep. My mind will not be quiet, my muscles will not relax.

The anxiety burns inside my chest and I lean over to Map Guy and tell him "My heart hurts". He knows what I mean.

He snuggles me close and offers words of comfort, asks me what I'm anxious about.

I rattle off a few things, most of which revolve around going to Blogopolis. I'm not anxious about meeting people this time (well not much), I'm losing sleep over the 3000 little things I need to do before Thursday. But the big one, the thought that has created a two week tension headache, is whether Tricky will wean while I'm away.

It's so late by the time I finish talking, only a few minutes later, he's fast asleep. Bastard. I wish I could slip away in to dreamland that easily.

At the moment Tricky and I have our special milky cuddles twice a day. My bookend baby takes relatively little milk, but what he gets instead is attentive, (mostly) quiet bonding time. Just he and I, our bodies warm against each other, drinking in each other's scent.

Chubby star fish hands grab all over me (Where's Mama's nose, Tricky?) and clench my shirt as if he's holding on for dear life. He'll look up at me and smile, giggle, then bury himself back in, not once dropping the nipple.

We've had a pretty good run with the whole breastfeeding caper. We did have some issues early on that saw me noticeably tense with dread when it was time for the next hourly feed. I would grit my teeth and feed him with tears rolling down my face thanks to the stabbing white hot razor blades of a staph infection.

But within a few months it all settled down... and it was something I could do anywhere, any time. Feed him; nurture him; comfort him instantly. It became something I could do well, and over some dark days the thought that I was actually good at something for once, buoyed me.

So how will I feel if my three days away sees him wean, perhaps a bit sooner than he was ready? I'm not sure. I know we've had a great run (almost 14 months) and that anything now is just icing on the cake... but still... still there is the feeling that I'm forcing him.

I apologise in advance to those going to Blogopolis... a lovely hormone shift awaits me and I don't know how I'll handle it.

When did your baby wean from the breast? How did you handle the hormone shift? Or didn't you notice it?

Zzzzzzz

Let's for a minute discuss the phrase “sleeping like a baby”. It's used to describe a peaceful, deep sleep that you wake from feeling refreshed and ready to go. How on earth this came about is beyond me because now that I have a baby I know they don't sleep like that at all. A newborn wakes every two to four hours for a feed and when this is over there is always a bit of time to crap their pants and spit up a bit of milk. Screaming your lungs out because you've soiled yourself doesn't normally make it's way in to the “sleeping like a baby” image. These are what my nights (and days) are like right now.

Hubby is amazing. In the middle of the night after Tricky has been fed it is Super Dad who changes him and settles him back to sleep – or at least tries to – Tricky has his “witching hour” normally at 4:00am. No amount of nappy changes, singing, patting, rocking or cooing seems to settle him. Then just as suddenly as it all started... silence. Whatever was ailing him passes and he drifts back off to sleep making cute little snorty noises. The cuteness doesn't get rid of the bags under my eyes though, which are now too big for a standard cabin size and must be checked through to the cargo hold.

We are taking comfort in the fact that this stage doesn't last forever. His stomach is currently the size of a walnut and he can only have a little bit to drink before he is full to the brim. Add to this that breastmilk is so easily digestible that it can pass completely through his tiny little system in just over half an hour and you have a recipe for really frequent feeds! Soon though it will expand and the time between feeds will gradually lengthen. Which means I will be able to sleep for more than 45minutes at a time. Pure bliss!

As tired as I am, I cannot get angry at my little Tricky. He doesn't know what is happening – doesn't know what the pain in his tiny little tummy means, doesn't know that the hand pulling out his dummy is his own (yes, I'm a terrible mother who gave her child a dummy – we call it his plug). At this age the only way he can communicate that there is some sort of discomfort is by crying. I try to remember that no matter how frustrating it is for me to not be able to comfort him and get no sleep, how frustrating must it be for him? The poor little tacker is still getting used to this big world.

In the not too distant past, at time like this a dummy was dipped in whiskey to help junior off to the land of nod... turns out though that some people still do this – a woman in the United States has just been sentenced to eight years in prison for giving a nine month old she was babysitting a sippy cup full of wine to help the little boy go to sleep. Whilst it is not something I would choose to do, I can actually understand why some people would dip a dummy in alcohol, but how this chick thought an entire cup full of wine would be anything other than extremely dangerous is beyond me. The little boy had a blood alcohol reading of .33 – that is SIX TIMES the legal driving limit in Australia!!! According to Wikipedia, readings of .35 and above are associated with coma and death and 50% of cases reaching 0.40 will prove fatal. In my mind what makes this worse is that the woman was only in charge of the child and his siblings for five hours – she had not endured days or weeks of a screaming child. How could you be so impatient with such a tiny, innocent creature?

So I've had my rant and thanks, I feel a bit better. I will continue to have sleepless nights for a while but it could be much worse. I have a healthy baby, a supportive family more than willing to cuddle Tricky for a few hours so I can have a nap, and a wonderful husband who does not “babysit” - he cares for his child. I'm luckier than a lot of people out there, and that thought gets me through... well that and a bit of chocolate.

What got you through the sleepless nights?

My milkshake brings all the babies to the yard

Lets for a minute ignore that my header has turned a rather lovely shade of what can only be described as 'baby poo brown' (I didn't change it, it just appeared like that and the settings page is still telling me its black background – is it the universe getting me ready for baby poo?)

What I really want to talk about is boobs. I'm slightly obsessed with them. Breastfeeding, a kilo of extra boob and now breast milk – definitely sensing a theme here.

At a dinner a few weeks ago the topic kept turning to babies as I'm the first one out of Hubby and I's closest circle of friends to be pregnant and so its all new and exciting for everyone. Since I could talk underwater about it, we're a perfect match – they actually want to listen and even ask questions! So naturally with a group of twenty-somethings talking about pregnancy and babies the burning question on everyone's lips was “Will Hubby taste the breast milk?”. No one seemed to care if I would, but WOAH a man tasting it – that warrants an entire heated debate!

At this point one of the people at our table looked quite freaked out and uncomfortable and I'm putting it down to the fact that she is six years younger than me and therefore in her mind, breasts are only used for sexy things. I admit that six years ago if anyone mentioned that those suckers were actually there to feed a baby I would probably have passed out. So while she tried to look very interested in the pattern on the table or menu or whatever, the rest of us got on with the conversation at hand.

I'll be the first to freely admit that I'm going to try it. Probably multiple times because the consistency changes during feeding (the beginning bit is apparently more watery and the end is full of fats to create buddha babies). I'm curious but I won't go as far as expressing enough to put on my cereal in the morning, because that's just creepy in my opinion.

Hubby hasn't decided yet, he's still moaning that 'the girls' aren't going to be his for much longer. I told him he shouldn't whine about that, they were never his to begin with. In fact I should be the one upset since they won't be mine any more! I'll be a milk bar on legs.

I do have one friend who managed to turn her lactating breasts in to weapons and would squirt her husband from five metres away. She is a woman of many talents. So far I'm not tempted to try that, but I'm a firm believer in the 'never say never' school of thought.

So have you or would you taste your own or your partner's breastmilk? The poll (top right hand side of the screen, below the stork picture) will be up for a week for your responses. If you're feeling brave leave a comment below on your own experience.