Feeding a baby is hard.
Boom. There's the intro. Whether you're breastfeeding or doing formula, these little things eat a lot. At least mine does. He does come from a long line of eaters though - my side of the family especially, we eat for a hobby. Beau's side more eats for survival. So weird to me.
In case you're nosey like me: I'm breastfeeding, and I was wholeheartedly unprepared for it.
I'm not actively nursing. I did nurse for a full week after he was born, and it was literally the hardest thing I have ever done. I say that knowing full well I pushed him out of my body, which was also *very* difficult. But breastfeeding? Pffft. It was so much harder on me, at least mentally. It was also a bitch physically.
Mentally, it was so draining. I couldn't tell if he was getting enough to eat. He was constantly on me. Constantly. Naturally I worried he wasn't getting enough so that's why he was hungry all the time. I was exhausted and nursing didn't allow anyone to help with feeding him, and eating was the thing he was doing most often at the beginning. I spent quite a few nights in a recliner in our room, basically with him nursing for what felt like 24/7. I wasn't sleeping, and when I was I was waking up in a literal panic because I would doze while nursing. I was obsessing over the amount he was eating and how I had no freaking idea how much he was taking in. I had no idea if I had enough milk, especially in those colostrum days.
I was also in so much pain. The pain from actual childbirth didn't really take over until he was probably four or five days old. Pretty sure it was shock and adrenaline that kept that at bay. Turns out no amount of shock and adrenaline can drown out the pain of breastfeeding for me. His latch was so shallow, and every time he latched, I cried. I would yelp in pain and tears would flow. I was bleeding and cracked and so fucking defeated.
I had this theory when I was pregnant (that I totally made up and has no basis in science) that if I kept my stress hormones to a minimum, he would be a happier baby. Well, maybe not necessarily happier, but less anxious. I often wonder if anxious people are born. I've had anxiety my whole life, and I look back on that and realize how strange it was. Panic attacks in the third grade were and are abnormal. I'm not sure if I was born this way, if it's a product of my environment, or a facet of my personality, but it's been this way as long as I can remember. Beau didn't have anxiety, like crippling, sweat in your sleep, obsess over something anxiety, until his late twenties. I have always found that so fascinating. I really want that for RB, so I did everything I could to stay as zen as freaking possible my entire pregnancy, and I managed to do it. I only cried three times during the entire thing. I'm really proud of that. Bullshit still happened in our lives and we still had to deal with it, but I developed this like duck's back kind of mentality and it all washed off; literally nothing stuck. It was really incredible. And all went away as soon as he joined us earthside.
Back to the nursing. I would get so upset, so stressed and anxious, and then I would be terrified that my stress hormones were flooding my breastmilk and all my hard work being cool as ice during my pregnancy would be undone. It was quite a spiral I'd go down. Here's how it would go, every time (which was every 90 minutes to 2 hours for a full 7 days, that's somewhere between 84 and 112 times): RB would be hungry; I would get anxious because I knew pain was coming; he'd latch; I'd yelp; he'd eat; I'd cry; I'd criticize myself; I'd try to calm myself down; I'd find myself taking deep breaths trying to physically calm down while my brain was doing summersaults.
I remember once, I was feeding him and crying. A tear of mine fell on his tiny little head. I looked at it and thought, "Wow, the first tear I see on my son, and it's mine." Babies are born with underdeveloped tear ducts. You don't actually see a tear until like 6 weeks (maybe 8? I don't know. Time is an illusion).
On day 8, I decided to pump. I needed to give my body, my mind, and my soul a rest. I said I was going to pump for a few days and come back to nursing after I had a chance to recover. Thank the baby Gods RB took to the bottle like a champ. I could see how much he was eating. I could see I was making enough milk. I could feed him without almost losing my shit every time. It was a game-changer for me.
I've now been exclusively pumping for 10 weeks. I never went back to nursing. For me, for RB, this is what works. He gets enough food (more than enough for a few weeks there - this first-time mom was overfeeding our little bottomless pit and that was an exciting lesson to learn). He's growing at a beautiful rate, my chunky little monkey. I get asked quite often how long I think I'll go. I'm now pumping every 2-3 hours. I wake up engorged and I leak and I have that lovely breastfeeding B.O. (y'all, it makes you stink, but Beau claims he can't smell me). It burns through every calorie I consume and it makes me thirsty like a camel. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep it up. I'm hoping to make it to 6 months, and next week I'm halfway there. I'm proud of myself no matter how long I do go. This is shit is not easy.
I feel like I should clarify - I did do a couple of lactation consultations, but they didn't really benefit me. I actually had one at the hospital before we were discharged that was an absolute shitshow. More on that later, maybe.
In closing, I gotta say - for the women that are able to exclusively nurse, I salute you. I literally salute you. You are a warrior goddess. For all the women who exclusive pump, you are a warrior goddess. For all the women who exclusively do formula, you are a warrior goddess. For the women who do a combo, you are a warrior goddess.
Keeping these kids alive and fed is not for the weak. Watching 'em get chunky sure does make it worth it though.
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