Breastfeeding Chapter Two

So, seven weeks in and we're still breastfeeding. And I'm quite relieved to say that it's been pretty straightforward this time around, well sort of. I was worried it would all go horribly wrong again and as much as I told myself it didn't matter if I ended up bottle feeding again, I knew in truth I'd be gutted if it didn't work out. I'd read everything I could on the subject and hoped that knowledge combined with experience would help me crack it this time.

And we got off to the perfect start: natural birth, immediate skin to skin and feeding half an hour after being born. It couldn't have been more different than Taters birth.

The first two days before my milk came in felt like such a leap of faith, could I trust my body to produce milk this time? I watched for wet nappies anxiously. But then to my relief there was suddenly milk, plenty of it, but also soreness - plenty of that too.

One morning was particularly awful, as I cried into my Ready Brek, clutching frozen peas to my breasts trying to numb them up before the next feed, I was topless, unable to tolerate clothing against my skin. I felt saggy and swollen and utterly miserable. And so disappointed that I was battling this fight once again. I couldn't stop crying.

So I set about working on getting the latch right. I knew what the right latch should look like and feel like, I thought I knew everything! But in practice it was much trickier. Flailing arms and head bobbing all over the place, tiny mouth that wouldn't open wide enough... I felt like I didn't have enough hands. It felt like a dance in which I knew all the steps but couldn't remember how to put them all together. 

I ended up with sores so bad I began to wonder if nipples really could fall off, they made me queasy to look at. But how could I quit? I actually had milk to feed my baby this time... I would have given anything to be in that position with my first.

Oh and then I developed thrush. This time I recognised the pain and we received medication promptly, but I'm not entirely sure we've knocked it on the head now and I'm praying it doesn't come back. 

Because you know, it's actually going ok. I'm not in pain, she's gaining loads of weight... It's all good. Feeding in public was a bit weird at first, but I don't know if it's something about Sheffield or the part of Sheffield where I live, but every new mother seems to be at it, and no one bats an eyelid. But at the same time I'm surprised to find no one seems adverse to formula either. 

I don't know whether times have changed or whether the sense of judgement I felt feeding Taters formula was in my head or just online, but no one seems to worry what other mothers do. It's pretty bloomin' wonderful actually. I'd thought long and hard about how I would tackle any anti formula breastfeeding fanatics I came across, but I've not met a single one yet. I hope it stays that way!

All that said, I'm still not crazy about breastfeeding, maybe it's just early days but I don't feel like shouting about how amazing it is just yet. I think the thrush has tainted things somewhat, it's hard to think of the milk as liquid gold when I have to keep applying cream and putting drops in my baby's mouth whenever we come into contact with it, that makes it feel more like a contaminated substance. It also leaks everywhere leaving my bed soaked, my clothes damp and cold, the baby throws it up all over me a few times of day making me feel scruffy and unclean. Perhaps in a few more weeks when things settle down I'll come to love it the way others do, but right now I just don't. I'm actually quite sick of the sight of my boobs. It's easier, I get more sleep, it's lazier. I'm certainly not quitting, that's definitely not an option, I just don't love it you know? But I feel like I should...

The Calm Before the Storm

With my due date just a few days away this feels very much like the calm before the storm. Two size scans have estimated this baby to be smaller than Taters was and with the placenta also out of the way I'm all set for a natural birth. 

Who knows what will happen when the time actually comes? But I'm as prepared as I can be. I was disappointed to learn that because Taters was born by emergency c-section this birth will be more closely monitored by a consultant and I get the impression that at the first hint of trouble they'll be whisking me in for another section. I'd hoped to have as little intervention as possible this time, but I'm choosing to be positive about this; while the consultant is keeping a close eye on the baby, that's one less thing for me to worry about so I can get on with the business of trying to give birth. I'll just have to make the best of it.

Breastfeeding benefits may or may not be overstated... another study into Breastfeeding

There is currently yet another piece of Breastfeeding v Bottle Feeding research making headlines in the media, this time a study of siblings, one breastfed, one bottle fed, that concludes that on 11 different measures no difference was found between the two in the long term.

Formula feeders are celebrating, breastfeeders are complaining. Me, well I’m thrilled to bits that it suggests my first combination-fed child is probably going to be ok, but I’m still 100% committed to breastfeeding the new baby anyway. It doesn’t change my opinion of anything.

Things I wished I'd known about breastfeeding

Baby Taters - out for the count after a mammoth 5 hour feed

My last blog entry was aimed at the professionals, but I also wanted to write something for mums who have their heart set on making breastfeeding work. 

In writing this, I'm not saying there's anything wrong with choosing to formula feed, there isn't, we all have to make our own decisions based on our own circumstances and our family. But I know a lot of women really desperately want to breastfeed and these are basically things I wish I'd done differently, things I learned the hard way, things I hope that should I have another baby, will help me make it work next time round.

How to improve breastfeeding rates - in my opinion

Breastfeeding is never out of the news these days is it? Right now the media is busy barking on about how rates are falling in the UK, followed up the next day with a timely report about how babies that are breastfed go on to become better social climbers (like that is going to turn the figures around!) 

Ready, steady... wait

It’s official, we are now trying for baby number two. I’m excited, a little nervous, but more than anything excited. I’m at the start of a new adventure and I have no idea how it will pan out. In some ways this is the best bit, when it’s all a dream you’re trying to make come true and the future is full of hope and promise.

Today I dipped my toe into the mummy wars...

... it was decidedly cold, I won't be going back there again!

There may be trouble ahead...

It’s been a little over three years since I decided that if I wanted children then me and the husband better get a move on and start trying. I was 32 and bored of the world of clubbing and drinking, it was time for something different. I didn't actually feel grown up enough but I realised that if I wanted two children (and that was always the unacknowledged scenario floating around in the back of my head) then we really ought to make a start now.  My other half always wanted children someday so the way we saw it, why not make that someday now? We do tend to make our major life changing decisions that way, with a shrug and a sense of,  “Ah go on then, why not?”

An Introduction

I'm scratching my head trying to decide where to start this. So perhaps a brief introduction is in order. This is me...

I'm 36 and a mother of one. This is a photo of Taters...

He is both the light of my life and my tormentor. He's a few months short of two. We live with my husband and two glamorous cats up North in England where it is allegedly grim (but is actually rather lovely). Right that's the basics.

What else can I tell you? Aside from parenting, I would describe myself as an agnostic with pagan leanings. I know my way around a Tarot deck, I have a few crystals scattered around my house as well as a fair few green men. I’m pescatarian because I love animals and can’t bring myself to eat them, but I can bring myself to eat fish for some reason so there you go. I give a shit about the environment and I don’t use anything tested on animals. I’m far from rich and live in a cramped little terrace house because I haven’t yet found a way to make money from the things I love (namely writing and art) – work is just a means to an ends. But I do work, I’m not a stay at home mum, sometimes I wish I was but it just isn’t an option financially. I love all things vintage, predominantly the 1920’s-1950s, with a good dose of Victoriana too. In fact I love a bit of history in general.

So the Domestic God-Help-Us bit: I despise housework but also hate to live in squalor – so this is a particular source of conflict. I’m not an awful cook, I can follow a recipe just fine (so long as it isn’t too long), but I find it all a bit tedious. It is my husband who describes me as the “Domestic God-Help-Us” – for my lack of culinary skills, my inability to use an iron, my general sloppiness around the home… and so on and so on…which would be fine if I didn’t throw such massive hissy fits at the end of the month along the lines of, “I can’t live like this, this house is a pig stye, Argh! Argh! Argh!”

Anyway, I don’t want to spend too much time dwelling on what has already gone but so that you understand where I’m coming from as a “Mother” here is a little trip back through my motherhood journey to date…

My foray into the world of mothering has thus far been rather different than I how I had envisioned it. I saw myself as something of an earth mother-to-be,  I genuinely wasn’t afraid of giving birth because I believed my body would ultimately know what to do (I thought so many women ended up having caesareans because they were out of touch with nature, with their bodies, too brainwashed by modern society and removed from our natural instincts – I still believe there is a lot to be said for that in a straight forward birth). And there was no doubt in my mind that I would breastfeed, you should have seen the paddy I threw when a well meaning relative bought me feeding bottles!

The reality was somewhat different: a knotted umbilical cord resulted in a closely monitored labour (strapped down to monitors, nothing natural about it) followed some 13 hours later by an emergency caesarean. The breastfeeding was absolutely nothing like I expected – I worked my arse off to make it work, I almost drove myself insane and I know I couldn't have tried any harder than I did. My inability to "successfully breastfeed" completely broke my heart (the full story can be found here  if you’re interested.) But the bottom line is my baby ended up being mixed fed. It was never the plan but it resulted in a happier, healthier baby and a mother with her sanity just about intact.

But all of this left my beliefs in tatters and I could feel my imaginary crusty peers turn their backs on me. (I didn’t, and still don’t really know that many real mothers – I’m not a signed up member of any mummy mafia) I didn’t know where I fitted in on the mummy spectrum anymore. Had Mother Nature abandoned me? I’d had a miscarriage before this pregnancy so perhaps I wasn’t supposed to be a mother in the first place? Had I bulldozed my way onto a road that was never intended for me? Nothing seemed to come naturally after all. My confidence as a mother was completely shattered. And yes, I still struggle with the rough start we got off to, this is one of the motivating factors behind writing a blog, the urge to find my new voice and own it, now I’m not the crunchy domestic goddess I assumed I’d grow up to be. Ah well!

But no, I don’t want to spend too much time looking back, as my recent driving lessons have clearly demonstrated to me, if you spend two much time dwelling on what has just gone – you’re not paying enough attention to what is happening now (my driving instruction has nerves of steel I’m telling you, because I do that a lot). So I might do a little dwelling from time to time (I’m the kind of woman who needs to make sense of something before I can move on) but hopefully not too much. There’s enough going on now to get my head around thank you very much.

Well, I’ve already said too much so I will leave it there for now and just get on with it…

My beautiful furry boys