I Am Grieving, Rejoicing...
Thursday, December 17, 2009 at 03:58AM 
photo by Kristen Cannegieter
Today's post written by Chrysula.
I am grieving. I am rejoicing. I feel loss. I feel relief.
My youngest and last child weaned himself a few days ago. I have four children and have nursed all of them. In fact, I’ve either been pregnant or nursing for the last eight years. It has generally been easy for me. My body worked as it was meant to most of the time, allowing me generous supply and minimal infections or interruptions.
My first child, a daughter took her sweet time - at least twenty minutes per side. We both nearly always fell asleep, me usually sitting up, waking with an almighty crick in my neck. I went back to work full time when she was four months old and pumped as long as I could. I got her to nine months before my supply gave out. The pumping just wasn’t as effective as she was. But I was pleased with my efforts. The battle for a private space in my all glass open plan office is the story of another post. Suffice to say I fought a good fight and my openness and insistence on speaking about my breast requirements to our all-male leadership team helped others follow suit.
My second daughter was the Queen of Efficiency. Fast and furious, she could empty a breast in under five minutes. I again went back to work when she was four months old but resigned a couple of months later. She was a dream to nurse and we went to fifteen months before the unique bond that is breastfeeding was broken in a very gradual and easy fashion. We were both ready.
My first son, after some early but mild mastitis, was also a Master nurser. As the number of children increased, my quiet time with the baby lessened. Nursing was a pivotal way to carve out time with my little one that was just ours. Never one to particularly enjoy those “in the quiet of the night” moments with my baby because I was usually so bleary eyed and hungry for sleep, I did find the odd moment of midnight stillness to appreciate the gift I’d been given. At ten months he went on a sudden nursing strike. After three swollen and frustrating weeks, he took a bottle and was weaned.
And finally my youngest son. Our early time together was the easiest yet. Nursing was simple and at a good pace. With this being my fourth child, nursing really was one of the few times of day and night that I could be exclusively with him. But the last three months have been painfully difficult. He took to biting down hard at every nursing session and in the last few weeks drew blood on multiple occasions. He would laugh when I cried out, thinking it was a new game. When I gently flicked his cheek, he stopped biting for a couple of weeks, but then it started again and the flick only worked that one time. I’d tried bottles and formula in the past to ease the way for babysitting but he was the first of my children to emphatically and without exception refuse them.
I persisted with nursing. I talked about weaning for weeks, but just couldn’t bear the thought of weaning him in anger and frustration, knowing this was something I would never do again. The biting got worse and finally ten days ago, the pain was unbearable from bruising and breaks in my skin.
I tried the bottle once more, and “bingo”. He drowned eight ounces in record time. Clearly he’d been trying to tell me something. He nursed a couple of times over the next two days. Then nursed only at night for two more evenings. The next night, almost a week ago, he refused completely. That was that. It was done.
I am grieving because there will be no more babies. And no more babies lives being sustained from my body. I am rejoicing because I can leave him with a babysitter and not be traumatized that he won’t drink anything or cry himself to sleep without comfort. I feel loss at the sudden removal of this bond between my child and myself; our intimate physical connection gone.
I feel relief that I am no longer in pain, that my body is my own again, that my husband and others can share more in his care, that I am one step closer to some of my personal goals and dreams being fulfilled as my children gently stretch towards independence.
But it is a bittersweet time.
Will you share your story or reflections on nursing or bottle feeding your child? Remember, at the Nest, it’s a no guilt kind of place.
Love to the moon and back
(C) Copyright Chrysula Winegar
Find Chrysula at her blog or follow her on twitter
breastfeeding, chrysula, nursing
Reader Comments (10)
Chrysula,
My nursing experiences have been similar, though a bit more traumatic. I was grateful that I was so committed to breast feeding from the beginning since that and my own stubbornness have been the only things that have carried me through on some days.
My first daughter was similar to yours - would nurse for 30 minutes at a time with both of us dozing off by the end. Early on I got a Staph infection with deep cracks that have left white scar reminders. After a painful couple of weeks we got through and never looked back. I was lucky when I went back to work that I could work a split shift and the day care allowed me to come feed her before her afternoon nap. I nursed her until a week before her first birthday.
My son was a model of no-nonsense efficiency like your second child. 10 minutes and he had drained both sides and was ready for a good sleep. Unfortunately I was plagued by mastitis early on, and then a chronic yeast infection that meant constant recurrant cracks and toe-curling pain at every feed. He refused to accept any bottle or sippy cup, so we persevered until he was 11 months old and we finally found a cup with a flow rate that would satisfy his voracious appetite!
My second daughter came at a time when I was also diagnosed with some food allergies, so my malnourishment meant very little milk for her. She seemed almost relieved to wean at 10 months when I found out I was pregnant again.
My last child - another daughter - is due this week. I look forward to the challenges and blessings of nursing again with a little nervousness, but with the confidence that I know what I'm doing and can overcome ANY obstacle!
My first daughter loved to nurse but my milk was very low. I had hypertension and an emergency c-section which was fine but it made my milk flow poor. We pushed through and she became the master nurser and nursed until she was 2 1/2 even through my pregnancy with my second daughter.
My second daughter- milk flow great but I came down with the dreaded yes toe curling mastitis too! We pushed through until she was 10 months ( the mastitis came back off and on) she then took a bottle at 8 months. I nursed and bottle fed. It was a relief for both of us. She weaned at about 1 yr.
Thanks for a wonderful post.
Thank you for sharing your thoughts on the last nursing time between you and your son. It made me want to cry because I felt all over again what it was like when I nursed my youngest son for the last time. Now when I see my older two sons who are 14 and 11 I wish for those quiet peaceful times, with no words, when we just sat and bonded. These times are precious to all of us moms.
My son was born when I was 17 and knew nothing about nursing. I thought that if I nursed him at all, I would end up having to pump in the bathroom at school so I completely avoided it. If I only knew half of what I know now then!!
My first daughter was born at 34 1/2 weeks at had a poor sucking reflex. So I would nurse, give her a bottle, and then pump. I did this every 2 hours for about 2 months. Then she got strong and we left that stupid bottle and pump behind. I had a horrible mastitis infection when she was about 2 months old also which nearly landed me in the hospital. When I had to return to work she was 4 months old and completely refused the bottle, so I was forced to wean cold turkey (again, not knowing nearly what I do now).
My second daughter was a born nurser. She latched on perfectly at the hospital. She was extremely colicky so she found it necessary to use me for comfort quite often. She also had horrible reflux which prevented her from ever getting full so she nursed every 1 1/2 hours until she was 6 months old. Although she took to solids wonderfully and has been off baby food and eating table food since 10 months old, she still nursed 8 x's a day until around a year, and would nurse 3-4 x's a night until almost 15 months when I finally got her night weaned. She is now 21 months old and some days I am just sooo done! But others, the thought makes me so sad. We are TTC right now so I'm hoping that when I get my BFP my milk will dry up and we can "naturally" wean.
I am looking forward to having this wonderful experience with another child, but, like you, I am grieving the loss of my time with my daughter. And looking forward to rejoicing in being more able to leave my daughter, even just with my husband. The two of them both cringe anytime I walk out the door, leaving them alone.
Thank you for this post. It brought tears to my eyes.
Breastfeeding, I think, is much like the job of parenting....it's the hardest job you'll ever love. My son was taken early, at 36 weeks, because the doctors couldn't figure out what was wrong with him on ultrasound. I was warned that, because he didn't move in my womb, that he was likely brain-dead. I had been told the best option was to abort, but I thankfully refused. Stetson made his arrival 4 weeks early, and soon it was discovered that a rare joint disorder was the reason he never moved. He was taken to the NICU, but they said he was perfectly healthy. I insisted that I wanted to nurse him exclusively and the nurses said they would allow me to try. Even with the help of a lactation consultant....who was MALE....my little guy just couldn't latch on because of his weak suckle reflex from being early. Not one to be easily discouraged I asked for a breast pump. The nurses told me it was unlikely that I could get enough at that point to feed him, but I was adamant.
To the nurse's surprise I was able to pump enough that he never took a drop of formula, which seemed to me a major accomplishment. I guess one reason was because Stetson was such a surprise at the age of 19 and I had wondered if I could be the kind of mom I wanted to be. He was a very healthy eater! At every feeding I would offer the breast, he would spit it out, and I would dutifully head off to thaw some pumped milk. Once he was fed it was time to pump and start the cycle all over again. I was so sleep deprived during that time, I'm not terribly sure how I did it. A funny byproduct was a stand-up freezer chock full of extra milk! Supply was certainly NOT an issue. Then at 3 1/2 months, during my feeble breast offering, it happened! He latched on and went to nursing as if he'd been doing it all along. From then on he wouldn't take a bottle if his life had depended on it. He had found me, and now wanted nothing else. It was an amazing feeling to finally nurse him. He was a lazy eater and took his sweet time at each breast. He was also a distracted eater and was often sprayed down with milk when he'd detach to watch something interesting go by :P Just after he was a year old I sat down to feed him and he gagged and spit it out. I tried several times over the next few days, but it was always the same response. My boy was making it clear that he was done, and much like the beginning of our nursing relationship, he got to call that shot.
My first daughter, I joke, came out nursing. In the recovery room, after my c-section, a nurse came in holding my little wiggling bundle. "I think someone's hungry" she said. I was very apprehensive about whether she would latch....but there was no need. She took to the breast like a fish to water. A sense of joy washed over me, knowing that the pump could collect dust! The only issue I had with her was that her "full button" as the pediatrician called it, was - for the lack of a better term - broken! She would nurse and then puke up half of what she had eaten. This was terrifying because I was just sure there was something horribly wrong with her. I went to the pediatrician with her more times than I care to admit. Each time I was told that she was gaining weight - very quickly as a matter of fact - and that babies sometimes spit up. He even tried her on acid reflux meds, but it didn't help. Finally, likely due to my persistence, he asked me to keep a log of how much she was eating by pumping and putting it in a bottle. I was to keep a log for a few days and then come back in. Darn....back to the pump.
I went back to the doctor with log in hand, really not knowing how it would make a difference. Jamesen was 3 1/2 weeks at this point. The doctor was shocked when he looked at it. She was eating every 2 hours and taking 10 oz. at every feeding!!! I didn't know that was abnormal since I had never paid attention to how many ounces my son took. I just fed him until he was full and always had some left over. The doctor explained that her "full button" was broken and until she found it, she would continue to throw up A LOT. She finally found that "full button" at 6 months. I was relieved that I could finally stay in one outfit for a whole day! She was a good nurser and despite all the normal issues that go along with inverted nipples, we had an enjoyable relationship. The end of our nursing took place when she was 8 months. She started biting viciously and then finally refused me outright. I was disappointed that I didn’t make it to a year, but pumped as much as I could until my milk finally dried up.
I was among the mistaken mothers who assume that experience will result in a better experience. With my second daughter, and current nurser, I looked forward to every second I would spend nursing her, as I knew she would be my last baby. She, like her sister, latched beautifully in the recovery room and despite the normal cracking, bleeding and soreness, I was happy. Once home I started to feel under the weather and then one day I looked down and realized that I had huge blotches of infection. I had mastitis both times I had dried my milk before, but this looked far worse. The doctors immediately treated me with antibiotics and I assumed all would be well….until the YEAST! I can sympathize so with the other lady about the toe-curling pain. There is no other pain in the world like yeast in your breasts. I would take mastitis 100 times over yeast!
I ended up taking every homeopathic remedy known to man for over a month before it started to subside. My nipples are still not the same, and even a month later there is some residual pain. Comparatively, however, it is nothing compared to when the yeast was active. The problems now are from the tissue on the nipples that sloughed off due to the yeast. It gets better with each passing day. My only regret with Emmersen is that she is a power nurser. She hits one breast at each feeding and downs her meal in less than 10 minutes every time. I wish she would savor our time together a little more….but you can’t reprogram instinct. I hope she will decide to nurse longer than her sister, but only time will tell. Until then I will smile every time I lay her on her nursing pillow and watch her happily nurse. I love being her source of comfort and nourishment.
I was raised in a community of bottle feeders, but I had decided to breastfeed without their support. I decided I would try it for one week, three weeks, three months, six months, one year. My first four children all weaned around 13 months. My last nursed until 19 months. I wish I had been smart enough to just sit down and enjoy our time together, but so often I found myself in awkward situations. For example, I was in line at the grocery store when my third child dropped a gallon of milk which proceeded to pool at a rapid rate. Other shoppers were gathering. I called the manager and tried to help as best I could AND all the while I was free-hands nursing with my amazing front pack sling. I got into so many sticky situations that could have been avoided if I had just stopped to sit down and nurse rather than trying to be a maniacle multi-tasker.
I've been pondering this one for a little while.
I have one daughter Emma, who is now three and a half. I had thought quite a bit about breastfeeding before the birth and had come to the conclusion that it was definitely the first choice, but that I wasn't going to fix on it, if it wasn't working. Here in the UK we seem to have quite an unhealthy phsyche about the issue - our figures are relatively low. From my own experience and anecdotally, it seems we are as a nation not at ease with breastfeeding quite, and not at ease with not breastfeeding either. I remember being in a circle of women while I was pregnant and the topic coming up. The general position amongst the five or six mothers present was that they had not breastfed, or at least not for long, but the whole conversation had a strong air of the confessional, with the shared relief that you are not alone in your failure. I decided my strategy: breastfeed or don't breastfeed, but don't add guilt into the mix.
So I went in, with the full intention of feeding Emma, but a pretty strong determination not to fall pray to guilt if it didn't work - in hindsight a very good plan. From birth she was at my breast a great deal, but was not happy. She seemed to be latched on fine, the midwives could see nothing demonstrably wrong. But Emma grew progressively more and more distressed as the days went on. By day three I was seriously doubting that she was getting anything from me - a suggestion that was greeted as an alien concept by the midwives, one kindly rebutting me with the vacuous crap, 'nature wouldn't starve a baby'. At three days old, I unilaterally decided that my baby was starving and asked for formula, at which point Emma transformed from a screeching wildcat into a blissed out angel, a transformation commented upon by all except midwives. Then I cried a great deal, totally shattered by the fact that Emma was indeed starving right in front of all of us, all there solely to care for her.
Contrary to what it appears, I don't think badly of the midwives. (OK, I still think pretty badly of the 'nature' midwife, and the philosophy she was representing). I too work in the public sector, and know all too well the less desirable effects of our target-driven public services (services of which I am generally proud). The fact that I left hospial ticking the 'bottle feeding' box would bring those midwives one step closer to reprimand from some more remote manager, who had certainly not met me and Emma and had possibly not even met the midwives. And this is part of the problem - the target culture effectively neuters the emotional/human response. I was crying into my dinner on day three, and one midwife came to me and quietly told me that she had formula fed her baby - what a ridiculous sense of rule-breaking accompanied that confession!
Now Emma is three and a half, and we are discovering that she has significant neuro-muscular messaging difficulties, particularly to her speech muscles, a fact which explains breastfeeding problems amply. She is just reaching the stage of emergent speech. We still give her a bottle at night - we don't have the heart to refuse it, as she still greets it with such joy, and drinks it in the same blissed out manner of the first - like she has been given her lifeline again.
I did not quite give guilt the slip in those early bottle feeding days, but it didn't get a grip. I would say to all mothers, breastfeeding is a great achievement, so go for it, but keep it in perspective - not breastfeeding is a small 'failure' compared to the great love we wrap our children in, for the rest of their lives.
May I just apologise for my 'vacuous crap' comment - I think it may be too judgemental. It does pretty accurately reflect how I feel, but shouldn't really have been presented as fact rather than opinion....
Hi Juliet,
Thank you for your comments, for sharing your heart, your story! I had to make a decision in the hospital to let the nurses give my baby a bottle because her blood sugar was low. I have another friend who said she would nurse until her daughter was 3 but found out early on that her daughter was allergic to her milk. We do what we have to do to take care of our babies and it is not always how we planned. I had hoped for natural birth and had 2 emergency c-sections. If it would have been in the early 1900's I would have died along with my babies....thank goodness for this surgery that saved my life and the life of my children. Yes, the love we have for our children is strong, amazing. It will be much stronger then our "dreams and plans" that sometimes don't go as we wish, yet sometimes perfectly, as it should be.
Love to the moon and back,
Donna
He is a good friend that speaks well of us behind our backs. krbwml krbwml - Cheap North Face.