Chomp ! Chomp! Chomp!
“Yeeeeoooowwww!!!”
That was the first two weeks of breastfeeding.
He was a biter. He did not know how to suck or bring his tongue forward, and instead clamped his jaw down hard.
I wanted nothing more than to pump and give him a bottle, but I didn’t want to introduce an artificial nipple when we already had issues.
I was in so much pain I dreaded feeding time, which was every 35 minutes during that stage.
I hated breastfeeding. It hurt, I was constantly engorged, constantly leaking through any and every type of breast pad I had, and I felt trapped.
Some time during the third week, nursing became less painful, but the dread didn’t leave.
Over and over, I have heard of the six week mark as some sort of magical point where everything clicks and all is lovely. I held on to that promise like a buoy in a sea of misery. By the time I came upon that six week magic, I was still feeling trapped and then enjoyed a nice bout of Mastitis. While the pain sucked, the fever was much worse. I managed to nurse and pump through it without needing antibiotics and came out on the other side more leaky and engorged than ever. I had a major over-supply that had kept me entirely housebound. I was soaking through pads in record time and Lucky was constantly choking on the spray. My over-active letdown was a pain for both of us. All of my tops had(have) permanent milk fat stains on the chest and poor Lucky was blasted in the face fire hose style at every feeding. I started feeling resentful about breastfeeding. It was keeping me from enjoying my baby and that pissed me off.
At seven weeks, I decided I needed a part-time nursing vacation or else I would have a psychotic episode. If my supply was not going to balance on its own, I needed to intervene. I gave Lucky formula for one feeding and only pumped a small amount for relief. I did this for several days, gradually adding more formula and less pumping. Then I spent a week of bliss, giving him bottles during the day and only nursing him when he woke in the middle of the night and in the early morning. Lucky loved formula. He stopped spewing bile and arching his back constantly. I stopped soaking through my shirts every 20 minutes and was even able to leave the house twice.
Then my guilt became too overwhelming. That, and a fear my supply would dry up completely, which I did not want. I was at war with each side in my head. I had all the women in my family telling me to stop nursing if I was miserable. On the other side was Mr.JAC and my guilt. Mr.JAC has expressed some rather harsh opinions about not breastfeeding and while I actually agree with him, I am also a bit angry since it is not his body being put through the ringer. I sort of feel like he really does not get a say in this matter until he can grow some boobs and do the job himself.
In the end, I decided to suck it up.
One day of pumping was all it took to come back, but in a more manageable amount. I am making just enough to keep Lucky satisfied at most feedings, except for his bedtime bottle. For bedtime he gets seven ounces of formula as opposed to his normal four ounces of breast milk. Without that huge formula bottle, he wakes up all night screaming and nobody gets any sleep. And if he sleeps through the night, he is a much happier baby the next day.
I can live with one feeding of formula each day, when the other six are breast milk. I think we have found a good balance for US. Well, at least for now. I still feel trapped and I still hate breastfeeding about 60 percent of the time. I still cannot go anywhere without strapping a diaper to each boob. I still feel it is robbing me of enjoying early motherhood.
Leaking, dread, and guilt.
The leaking will stop some day. Dread will come and go. Guilt, though, tends to linger.