A Tale of Two Boobies

My snuggly little one-day-old. Oh my....

I debated for a while about what to name this blog post. I considered Dos Boobies as well, but A Tale of Two Boobies had more class I decided.

I never thought I'd write a blog post about breasfeeding.

I almost never even said "breastfeeding" before I had Lizzy.

It still totally weirds me out that milk comes out of my body. I've never done anything that made me feel quite so much like a mammal. I'd love to be that mom that's just glowing about breastfeeding. I guess part of me is. I'm quite impressed that my body has provided food for my baby for 10 long months. It's truly what I feel is one of my greatest accomplishments- mostly because I could have given up so many times, but didn't. And that victory belongs entirely to the Lord. I prayed (A WHOLE LOT) and he answered in a big way. I was afraid and worried, but he gave me assurance. I could have given up, but he didn't give me peace about quitting. It was hard, but he gave me patience. He taught me to trust in his timing and to rely on him for myself and my sweet babe.

At 10 months, I feel now that breastfeeding is starting to come to a close for us. Part of me is thrilled. Part of me is sad. It was rough for a long time, natural and sweet for a few months, and now...eh...it's just part of life.

We started out rough. A rough delivery (I'm not quite ready to talk about it yet...) led to a tough time breastfeeding. Lizzy was 3 weeks early and her sucking reflex wasn't quite fully developed. She just bit. It sucked. But she didn't. (see what I did there? ha). We were convinced to supplement, which was easier, but not what I wanted.

I was afraid of getting bit, so we used a nipple shield. It was awkward beyond belief. Nothing like the sweet, tender moments I imagined. She had trouble turning her head one direction and didn't want me to direct her head and so I sat, hunched over with her on my lap, trying to dangle my boob over her and hoping she'd latch. She did sometimes. Thankfully, a trip to the chiropractor (for both of us!) and a lactation consultant helped a lot. But she still gnawed and I was still afraid to give in to the whole "process."

On her 3 week birthday, my sweet tiny baby started spewing neon yellow. It was like she ate a highlighter. I took her to the doctor who advised us to head to the children's hospital. I drove and tried not to cry while my mother-in-law sat in back with Lizzy. I didn't manage not to cry when I called my mom and she ran out the door to be with us (Thank God for moms.) After a few tests and an overnight stay, Lizzy was back to normal and the doctors wrote up the highlighter-spewing to a virus. Whatever, it didn't matter to me as long as it was gone. My baby was ok and we took her home.

While we were in the hospital, things got even more wacky with breastfeeding. I pumped like crazy and we supplemented. I prayed and after a few weeks, Lizzy was drinking all breastmilk! Victory! Then I started to think about going back to work. I worried about not making enough milk.

I had hoped that I would be one of those moms with a freezer packed to the brim with "extra" breastmilk. I hoped that I'd be able to feed a whole daycare. But I wasn't.

I started trying to pump extra to get a "supply" in the freezer. The more I tried, the less milk I made and the more we had to supplement with formula. I didn't trust that God would give me what I needed in his time. I wanted it now.

When I went back to work, I had 3 little bags of breastmilk saved in the freezer and Lizzy was getting at least 2 bottles of formula a day. We weren't breastfeeding at all. I was just pumping and bottling. The day I went back, I came home and promptly came down with mastitis. Jimi came home and took me to the doctor and I just cried. I was broken hearted. It wasn't that I had always wanted to breastfeed. I just didn't have any peace about NOT breastfeeding.

I got over the mastitis and kept pumping. One day, I was trying to juggle pumping and feeding Lizzy a bottle at the same time and I just had enough. I put the pump away and stuck her on my boob. And it worked. I had been begging God for 3 months to make it work. And He did. He did. No nipple shield, no crying (from either of us).

Since that day, we've been breastfeeding with less fear. I still worry about getting bit (and I do occasionally). I still don't completely trust the process. Eventually, once Lizzy started on solids, we were able to completely get rid of the formula. She hasn't had formula in about 5 months.

She refuses pumped breastmilk while I'm at work...leaving me with a supply in my freezer...ironic? But with an ok from our doctor she's drinking cow's milk and water while I'm away. She won't drink out of a sippy cup, or a bottle. Only a cup with a straw. Ha! Ooooookkkk. She still breastfeeds when we're together and if she wants to eat, she'll pound the boobies. ..

It's been a journey for sure. It hasn't been easy. And it really wasn't about breastfeeding. While I wanted to give her the best food, increase her immune system, etc., I needed to learn to trust God more. This was a huge leap of faith for me. I hope that the next time we have a baby it's easier, but even if it isn't, I know that I can trust the Lord. He provided for me and my baby. He loves me and my Lizzy beyond measure.

And that, my friends, brings A Tale of Two Boobies to it's near conclusion. I'm shooting for 12 months of breastfeeding, but all that really matters is that the Lord brings peace.

The END.