My Marathon

If you know me at all, you know this is not going to have anything to do with an actual marathon or running.  This girl only runs when my children (and possibly myself) are in major danger!  This is actually going to be about breastfeeding.  First of all, I want to throw in a few disclaimers.  If you are a runner and have run marathons, I hope I'm not taking away any of your glory by comparing my year of breastfeeding to your accomplishment, which I will never, ever attempt because I'm too lazy.  Also, I know the whole breastfeeding vs. bottle-feeding debate is probably the most controversial hot-topic in motherhood today, which in my opinion is completely ridiculous because a) it really isn't anyone's business how you feed your children as long as you're feeding them and b) as mothers, we do what is best for our children and ourselves, and that should not be judged based on if you give your baby formula or breastmilk, a bottle or a boob!  I'm not in any way trying to come across as a great mother because I breastfed.  I know a lot of moms out there who are much better mothers than me, and I couldn't tell you how most of them fed their infants.  How we feed our babies is a personal decision and does not impact our greatness as mothers.
With that being said, breastfeeding is very important to me, and I really wanted to breastfeed Jake for his first year.  Although we're not quite to the year mark (close enough at this point and clearly going to make it), I am so proud we did.  When I say "we," I mean this whole little family of mine because breastfeeding is a family effort.  I needed Karl's support and encouragement, I needed Cooper's cooperation, especially in those early days when he had to give up a lot of my attention because of a newborn's need to eat continuously, I needed Jake to be interested and good at it, and I needed a lot of luck!  I've said it a thousand times, but breastfeeding is the most un-natural natural thing in the world, meaning that it doesn't come naturally and requires a lot of practice, patience, and perseverance to make it work!  It is important to me though, and this is my little story about my journey with breastfeeding, my marathon if you will.
Before I had Cooper, I didn't know if I was going to breastfeed.  I was willing to try, but I wasn't passionate one way or the other.  Karl and I took a class, I talked to people, I read about it, I thought I was prepared.  (Haha, I was NOT!)  The first time I held Cooper to my chest to nurse, breastfeeding suddenly became something I felt like I had to do for my child.  I don't know what came over me in that moment, but this was suddenly very important to me.  We started off great.  He latched well, he nursed well, but he was a little thing and had come 2 1/2 weeks early, so the nurses were watching his weight very closely.  They started having me nurse, pump, and feed him what I pumped to make sure he was getting as much colostrum as possible.  When I came home from the hospital, I kept up this system, which was exhausting!  I literally was trying to feed my baby all day and all night!  This created some other problems too: the constant nursing and pumping was making for some very painful and sore breasts, this system also started to confuse Cooper, and he stopped latching on to me, and because I was always stimulating milk production, I was making way too much milk for him.  One problem led to another, and the frustration and exhaustion were quickly taking a toll on this new mama.  I wanted to quit so bad, and he was barely a couple weeks old.  I researched, read, met with a lactation consultant, and felt like such a failure because this just was not going well. One night I was talking to one of my school moms, and she said her biggest regret with both of her children was stopping too early.  She said she always wondered what would have happened if she had continued one more week.  She encouraged me to give it that one more week and see where we were.  I had already knocked my goal of one year down to 6 months down to 6 weeks down to 3 weeks, and at that moment, I was ready to knock it down to one more day!  Those early milestones I had set were too intimidating and daunting at that time, but I could handle one more week.  After that week passed, we weren't doing great, but we were doing a little better.  One more week.  There was still improvement, and I felt like I could keep going.  One more week.  At 5 weeks 2 days, we got it!  That might not sound like a long time, but at that time, with a fussy newborn and around-the-clock feedings, it felt like an infinity!  I remember Karl came in from outside, and I was feeding Cooper on the sofa, tears streaming down my cheeks.  He was used to seeing tears at this point while I tried to feed the baby, but these tears led to a smile.  Cooper was latched on to me, and he was nursing like a champ!  This was the first time since those very early days that he was nursing from me without having to use a nipple shield.  We had made it through that hard beginning and my heart was singing praises to the Lord!  I would love to say that it was smooth sailing from that moment on, and although we had lots of good, easy times, we had our setbacks too.  Colds, teething, nursing strikes for whatever reason, refusing to eat off one side, etc; nursing Cooper was hard!  We probably had close to as many hard times as easy times!  When he turned 6 months and started eating solids, his interest in nursing really started to dwindle, and when he decided to go on another nursing strike, I was ready to throw in the towel.  Considering our journey, I was proud of how far we had come, and I felt like this was a good stopping point for us.  I started pumping for his bottles, and the more I pumped without feeding him directly, the less I made, so I was having to mix in more and more formula.  When he was almost 8 months, I stopped pumping and went to just formula.  I remember when he was about 7 months old, I was nursing him one night (he would still nurse from me during the night), and I thought about how the time was going to change the next night and he wouldn't get up for this feed any more.  I knew that was going to be the last time I nursed him, and it was.
Fast forward a couple years later, and I found out I was expecting Jake.  Within days of finding out I was pregnant, I had bought a book about breastfeeding called The Nursing Mother's Companion.  This is my nursing bible!  I love it!  I read it three times before I had Jake, highlighted it, tabbed pages, made notes...I studied that book like I was about to have the most crucial exam of my life on it!  I was so determined that this time would be better and easier than it was the first time.  This time I knew how important it was to me, and I was ready!  I remember as they wheeled me to the OR to deliver Jake, I was so giddy and excited about meeting our new baby AND that I was about to get to nurse him.  I knew this was how I bonded with my babies, and I couldn't wait to begin that bond with Jake.  As soon as I got to the recovery room and was handed Jake, we started trying to get him latched on and feeding.  It was the most wonderful feeling I have ever known.  With your first child, that first feeding is very wonderful, but you don't know what to expect, and it is kind of weird and uncomfortable.  With the second child, you hit the ground running!  Jake was an awesome nurser from the start.  Every time I noticed him root around in those first days, I put him to the breast and let him nurse.  I made sure every one knew that nursing came first, and Jake didn't get held by a lot of others during those early days because he was always wanting to nurse!  That was fine with me too!  Those first days should be about mother-child bonding anyway.  The second night of his life, Jake never went to sleep that night.  He nursed and nursed and nursed.  If I put him down, he cried.  I knew he was suckling more than sucking, but that's what he wanted.  The nurse felt sorry for this tired new mama and kept offering to take him to the nursery so I could rest, but I knew I wouldn't rest if I was afraid he was fussing, so I kept him.  He was happy if he was with me.  The next morning I mentioned to the lactation consultant about our all night drinking party :), and she said she was thinking my milk would come in that day, which would be considered somewhat early.  She said babies can sense when the milk is about to come in, and if you let them nurse like that, they will pull your milk in for you.  Sure enough, less than 48 hours after he was born, my milk was in, but it was the smoothest transition from colostrum to real milk.  I didn't get engorged; I wasn't in any pain or uncomfortable at all.  We knew it had come in because he would have a little milk spill from his mouth while he nursed.  I did swell a little, obviously, but I was not engorged at all.  It was the neatest thing!  I continued to let Jake eat whenever he showed an interest, whereas with Cooper, I paid more attention to the clock and trying to get him on scheduled feedings.  I now deeply believe this is a mistake if you want to successfully breastfeed.  When Jake acted hungry, he got to eat.  Occasionally in the first month I would pump after feeding him, mainly to make sure I encouraged a good milk supply and to have some milk I could freeze in case we ever needed it (my insurance milk, as I called it), but I didn't pump like I did with Cooper because I learned that too much milk is not necessarily a good thing.  I wanted to make as much milk as Jake needed, and as long as I was feeding him every time he wanted (that first month of his life, he would nurse constantly from about 3 pm-10 pm, giving me about 20 minutes between feedings), I was making the right amount for him.  Milk production is a big deal for a PCOS girl too.  Many women who have PCOS can't make enough milk.  I am so thankful that I was not one of those girls and like I said earlier, I knew I needed a lot of luck to make it through this marathon of mine.  I had a good supply of milk; I never got sick enough where I couldn't nurse Jake and I never needed to take any medication that would keep me from nursing him; nothing happened that kept me from being able to be with Jake all the time.  We were blessed this year for sure.  We did hit a couple rough spots, as I'm sure you do in any marathon.  You start out strong and determined, you get weary along the way, you hit a few bumps in the road, it gets harder, you think about quitting and know that it's okay because "you've made it this far," but you keep going anyway because "this far" wasn't what you set out to do.  You have your moments when you're ready for it to be over, but then you see the finish line, and you're suddenly filled with one last burst of energy as you sprint to it and fall across it.  That's what I imagine a marathon is like anyway.  I would run across the finish line with my arms out and my face lifted to the sky!  However, what I've learned is that it's not about the run so to speak; it's about the experience.  For me, this marathon of mine was about the bond.  Sure, I set a goal for myself and my baby because it's what I thought would be best for him, and I knew it would be a challenge, but this girl loves a challenge.  But I didn't make it to the one year mark--my finish line--because of the goal; I did it because day by day, it was the experience of the whole thing and the bond I saw growing between us.  I have loved nursing this baby.  Nursing him has been one of the greatest experiences of my life.  I have loved being his source of nourishment and comfort.  I have loved the way he falls asleep while he's nursing.  He feels safe and comfortable and happy during that time.  It gives him a sense of security.  And it gives me such a sense of peace.  During all the crazy moments of the day, when it's time for him to nurse, that's our time together.  Just the two of us.
And as we reach that finish line, I think I'm going to do what most runners in a marathon probably don't even consider: I'm going to keep going.  In other parts of the world, most mothers do breastfeed past that one year mark.  I used to think that was weird; now I understand though.  Here we are, almost one year in, and as I've tried so hard to do with Jake, I'm following his cues.  He's still interested, it's very good for him, and I can do it.  Why not?!
So here's to the run, the marathon, and the joy of the experience!  We did it!