Babies & boobies - my breastfeeding story

Breastfeeding. What a daunting thought. Well, it was for me. During my pregnancy I knew I would breastfeed yet I was absolutely terrified. I wasn't worried about labour. I wasn't worried about childbirth. Nor was I worried about the constant sleepless nights ahead. But when it came to breastfeeding I was a-shakin' in my boots!

Who knows why? Perhaps it was due to the fact that as soon as that wee fleck of a heartbeat started squirming around in my belly my boobs felt like they'd had a run in with a baseball bat and my nipples felt like they'd lost a long battle with sandpaper. I couldn't even bear to touch them let alone have a gaping human hoover hone in on them! Also, I just figured that it was going to be hard. How would baby know what to do? And more importantly, how would I? There's only so much "training" one can do in this situation!

Once Redford popped out though it was a different story. Having spent the first four minutes of my sons life watching him struggling for breath whilst tubes were shoved down his throat and oxygen masks hovered over his tiny, squidgy face my motherly instinct kicked in and all I wanted to do was cheer him up with a sweet boobie/face plant move.

And face plant he did. Little Red turned out to be the child you hear about in ante-natal class. You know, the one that picks himself up with superhuman strength and somehow, in one deft ninja move, goes from snuggling under your neck one moment to headbutting your boob the next and then suck suck sucking away. Needless to say, I was all new mother naivete and thought "Sweet! No hard work required, the boy's a pro." Oh but I was wrong. 

Pumped up with new found hope and the belief that motherhood was going to be a cinch I pleaded with the hospital staff to let us go home the next night and, somewhat reluctantly, they consented. Obviously, I don't know better than the midwife. Within two hours of being home the little peanut chose to exercise his lungs at full volume and his hunger at full capacity. My colostrum was OK - it did the trick for half an hour or so, but this child wanted milk and he wanted milk now. I have no doubt that our neighbours were counting the ways to murder us in our sleep (sleep? what sleep?) for the noise that was reverberating from our bedroom. Thus began the infamous late-night dummy run. I figured that after about 45 minutes bubs was getting fed up with trying and simply comfort sucking to fall asleep so a dummy wouldn't go astray in this situation. So....

12.30am: Baby Daddy Nick gets sent out to buy dummies.
1.20am: I call Nick to see where the heck he is only to find out that he's made his way out to Lower Hutt in a desperate attempt to find a supermarket still open.

*Note to self: win Lotto and start up a 24 hour baby supplies store.

1.45am: Nick calls me, "Um, I'm just at the petrol station looking for some but I'm pretty sure the attendant thinks I'm either shoplifting or on drugs...."
2.00am: Nick returns with empty hands, apologising profusely. Oh dear.

With snippets of sleep here and there, we manage to get through the first night with a visit from our midwife growing thankfully nearer. Hoping for a magic answer when she finally arrived we were a little let down when she told us to hang in there, my milk would come through soon enough. So we waited. Then the night came around again and if I thought it couldn't get any worse I was wrong. At 11.30pm I began the 9 hour feeding marathon. This consisted of me sitting in bed with the boy permanently attached to my boobs (both of us drifting in and out of light sleep) until 8.30am when the midwife returned again and we waited for yet another magic answer - we were told again to hang in there, my milk would probably come through tonight and if not we could look at topping bubs up with formula.

Thankfully the midwife was right and my sanity was saved (not that there was much left after the whole 14 hours of sleep I'd had since going into labour 4 days earlier). I still remember the feeling of the milk letting down: all of a sudden there was a warm tingling sensation and within 20 minutes my boobs had gone up a cup size and looked like mini versions of Pammy's melons. Finally, with a little effort, Red latched himself like a pro once again, he got a belly full of delicious milk and we got a half decent night's sleep.

The next 6 weeks were full on. Little was a hungry tyke and when people suggested I get him into a routine and feed him every 2 hours I smiled and nodded but never took heed. This boy needed to be fed on demand and there was no two ways about it. He was also a lazy feeder, unlatching before the hind milk got flowing so he was only satiated for a wee while. My midwife recommended feeding him off only one breast each feed which helped immensely and a friend of mine also suggested bottle feeding him before his longest patch of sleep at night so out came the breast pump and by around 8 weeks we finally had a baby that slept well, averaging 6-7 hours a night. This was a lifesaver, even if he was still feeding every hour to hour and a half during the day. 

My milk supply has always been, and still is, a mystery to me. Sometimes I seem to have gallons stored away in there and other times I literally have to sit there milking myself to get even a drop. This plus the fact that he got used to feeding via bottle and is hideously impatient led me down the top-up-with-formula road which I had originally wanted to avoid. At first I felt horrible about doing it, that my milk wasn't enough for him and that everyone would judge me but in the end I figured the most important thing was keeping peanut full and happy and if anyone had a problem with it then it was theirs alone.

So now, at 5 months, I feel like we're finally in a feeding routine. He breastfeeds every 3-4 hours during the day with a bottle at 9pm before bedtime and usually wakes at around 5am for another feed. I love breastfeeding him, I adore the closeness and strong bond we have and how feeding time is just Mummy and baby time. We've just started him on solids which he's slowly getting his head around - watch this space for foodies blogs! - so aren't needing to top him up so much with formula.

All in all, I feel I've had a good run with breastfeeding. For something I was so terrified about to begin with I think Little Red and I came out the other end OK. When it comes down to it, it's such a special time and to be honest, I'll be pretty bummed out the day he stops for good!