In honor of Mother's Day here is a 3 part post on a beautiful but difficult aspect of motherhood: breastfeeding. You can find Part 1 here, or Part 2 here.
Eventually though, we found our groove. I learned how to eat around the clock, my son learned that my breasts weren’t going anywhere and he slowed down his nursing. The introduction of solid foods and the long awaited ability to sleep through the night cut down a lot of our nursing sessions. Although I had my fair share of struggles breastfeeding, there were many ways in which I absolutely loved it. There was a special feeling in knowing I was the singular person in Rainer’s life that could provide him with this. Sure, his dad could make him laugh like a hyena even in the middle of a gasping cry fest, but I could build his bones, I could layer those cheeks with cherubic chub. I loved the quiet special moments that passed between us during nursing, the gratitude in his still blue baby eyes, a soft hand emerging from a cocoon of blankets to graze my cheek, an “I love you” in baby language.
Soon my baby’s smile had teeth. The chubby little legs lengthened and slendered as he went from crawling to walking to running. The blue eyes faded to a grey brown that I cherished as much as the baby blues. One day it occurred to me that we were only nursing first thing in the morning and at night before bed. I was in disbelief that my baby, seemingly obsessed with nursing, was weaning himself. In the throes of my breastfeeding woes, I was sure that the sore nipples, the engorged breasts, the hormonal ups and downs would last an eternity. But here I was, facing the end of an era. Instead of the glee I expected at the prospect of having my bosom and my body all to myself again, I was surprised to find myself overcome with a bleak heartache. I was reluctant to aid the weaning process. In my heart I knew that this was it: we were crossing the final frontier of babydom, leaving it behind for good and entering the terrifying new territory of toddlerhood. No more gummy smiles, no more baby coos, no longer a small, soft fist wrapped instinctively around my index finger, and no more breastfeeding.
The first night Rainer fell asleep without nursing, I cried. It was in this moment that I realized parenthood involves a lot of mourning the child you had while meeting the child you have. There can be such a large disconnect between the stages of childhood, however each stage is such a unique delight ,you’ll only have time to mourn so long before you are swept off your feet by an older, smarter, and just as beautiful version of your baby.
That night I mourned those months of infancy, and I still reflect upon them with the golden glimmer of hindsight. I don’t recall much of the time I spent hating breastfeeding, all the pain, all the guilt. I only reflect on those sweet, quiet moments we shared during nursing. Now breastfeeding feels lifetimes away, and I wonder what unforseen blessing I’m mistaking for a bane as my son and I traverse the land of toddlerhood together.
To learn more about Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex, check out https://d-mer.org/.
To learn more about your rights as a breastfeeding mother, visit http://www.usbreastfeeding.org/workplace-law. If your rights are being violated, speak up!