I have blogged multiple times about breastfeeding... I always knew that it was something I wanted to do, though I can't recall any specific reasons as to why. I don't remember having a lot of real life examples, other than the four months my Mom nursed my sister and seeing one aunt nurse my cousin for a bit. It just seemed to be what was supposed to be done and I did not go into it with any preconceived notions as to what it would be like, other than I wanted to go a year per the AAP's recommendations at the time.
When I gave birth to my first child, I was not prepared for the obstacles that I would face in wanting to nurse her. At the hospital, I remember seeing notes that our nursing sessions were merely "fair", though no one offered to help me. She was born on a Monday evening, we were home on Wednesday and my milk came in on Thursday~coincidentally the same day her jaundiced decided to worsen. My baby would not wake up to nurse and I was engorged with no form of relief in sight. The following day a visit from a nurse confirmed the increased jaundice and the fact that it makes babies lethargic. She patiently worked with me to encourage my little one to latch on, with no success and left me with a quality breastpump, a control flow bottle and instructions to pump often and continue to offer the breast. I was devastated, thinking my daughter would never nurse. A week later, after a grueling time of offering her the breast, pumping, "forcing" her to drink an ounce here and there from the bottle, she finally latched and our nursing journey began.
My first baby nursed until she was 2 1/2 years old...way longer than I ever expected or even fathomed would be "normal". When she weaned, it was her decision to stop and it was gentle and perfect.
Fast forward almost ten years later to the birth of my fourth and final baby. She had been preceeded by her two brothers, who both latch on like hungry barracudas following their births up until they weaned at two and two and a half, respectively. Despite being a drug-free homebirth, she was a struggle to latch on and we battled for several weeks to establish an effective breastfeeding relationship. This past year, now three years later, she has not grown any less fonder of her "nah-nah's" and would have been content to nurse all day should I let her.
I am sad to say, she and I effectively weaned a few weeks ago. She still wants skin to skin time with me, placing her soft cheek on my breast and going to sleep. It feels strange, knowing that this part of my life is over, though I knew it would be one day. This, just short of my oldest's thirteenth birthday, thus entering me into a new era (of having a teenager...eek!). Despite the challenges, the sore nipples and blisters, the nights where I would have a toddler who would want to stay latched all through the night, the loss of having my body to myself, smelling like sour milk, soaking shirts and sheets and having to pay more attention to what I put into my body, I can honestly say that every moment of it was worth every single bit.
Worth it to gaze down and see a sleepy baby's milky smile looking back at me... worth it every time I could ease a boo-boo or bad dream or even the trauma of a shot or a blood draw with mama's milk... worth it knowing that I gave my all to give my children the best that *I* could do for them in this way... worth it knowing that all my other children, as well as my stepchildren, had the chance to see nursing as a normal part of life and hopefully impacting them to do the same for their own children.
I close this chapter with a sense of both sadness, joy and a feeling of accomplishment.
