Into overtime

I am so lucky to sit here with The Little Empress in my lap, having nursed herself to sleep as she has for the past 11 months. Mainstream recommendations to establish seperate sleeping routines without nursing down be damned — my daughter is happy and healthy and loves to be with her Mommy. In spite of the comical lack of propriety that only an 11 month old can get away with (as well as the utter lack of privacy since The Little Empress is ALWAYS with me), I am happy to breastfeed. I know that this relationship between myself and TLE is as precious as it is temporary and as a result, I treasure every moment of it. (Yes, even when she’s biting me.) Because I know that far too soon, she will eventually wean and the snuggles of a babe at my breast will be only a sweet memory. But just as importantly, I hope that this bond between her and I strengthens, to pave the roads of communication and trust that I know she will need when she hits her turbulent teenage and early adult years.

But enough with planning for the future — it is time to enjoy the present. As we approach the one year mark, there are many nursing mothers who would consider weaning their child if they haven’t already. Honestly, if I were still working, I probably would have weaned at 6 months though it would have pained me to do so. It wasn’t any secret that I hated pumping. It wasn’t the taking time out of my day that I hated but the fact that it made me feel inadequate as a mother. I never pumped well and after three daily pumping sessions, I was lucky to get a measy 5oz of milk for her which was barely enough for one feeding. I tried every trick in the book including looking at photos, bringing her clothes, massage, Mother’s Milk Tea, specialized pumping equipment, etc. Nothing worked. I am sure that had we continued, my milk supply would have slowly but surely dried up. As it was, during those few weeks, my daily supply began to diminish.

In response, TLE began to reverse cycle, taking more of her feedings at night when I was home. While this was good for our nursing relationship, this also meant that she began holding out as long as she could between bottle feedings during the day. By the last two days leading up to my leaving work completely, she had gone on a complete bottle strike. She simply would not drink from a bottle even though she was starving. It got so bad that after nearly 8 hours of refusing, The Hubster(tm) drove TLE 40 miles to my former workplace so that she would eat. On my last real day in the office, The Hubster ™ and TLE drove to work with me and sat in the parking lot all day while I ran out every 2 hours so TLE could nurse.

(Oh, the stories I will have to tell this child when she grows up I fully intend on embarrassing her in front of her friends with “When you were little…” stories. Isn’t that one of the perks of parenthood?)

Luckily, I was able to become a SAHM soon after and TLE has thrived on the Breastaurant ever since. For better or worse, TLE has never had a lovey unless my boobs count. I have the distinct feeling that TLE would bring my boobs with her, wherever she went, to snuggle on (or bite) as she sees fit. (Come to think of it, so would The Hubster(tm) however he has not been able to have quality time with the boob because, well, the baby is stuck to them. all. the. time.)

As we prepare to enter overtime (by American standards, at least,) I find myself thinking back to the first few weeks when each nursing session was a challenge. She had a poor latch and a weak suck and was a very sleepy newborn. I remember going to the lactation consultant for the first time a week after she was born, revealing very raw, injured nipples due to her poor latch. It hurt so bad but I refused to give up.  I am so grateful that I didn’t.

As TLE has grown, so has our nursing relationship. The days of the sleepy newborn are long gone, as are the nearly hour long nursing sessions. (Thank god!) These days, nursing sessions aren’t so much sessions as they are quick pops in and out on her part. Picking her up and putting her on my lap will reveal whether or not she wants to nurse. If she does, she’ll simply push up my shirt and help herself. And god help me if I don’t want her to nurse because she will if she wants to, even if it means throwing herself to the side and pushing up my shirt despite my attempts to keep covered.

Sometimes, she’ll decide that she wants a quick top off in the middle of playing, in which case I find myself doing this:

She’s well on her way to toddler nursing. I am so happy to have gotten this far and can’t wait to see how far we will get.

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