A P.A to my boobs.

Outmumbered - 17 Oct 16

Within 30 minutes of giving birth to my first baby, my boobs were shot into the limelight, in an almost X Factor-like fashion.  It would have happened sooner, had I not tried to cling on to the feeling of having no responsibility for a little longer, and declined my baby being placed on my breasts instantly. Any professional who came to the bedside wanted to be part of the action. I feel that my boobs needed their own welcome tune, for every time they were revealed.

The words ‘latching on’ were said in every sentence. I have a very vivid memory of my husband wanted ‘a go’ at getting our baby to latch on. He would turn our baby into an aeroplane (yes- aeroplane noises were made) and he would ‘fly’ our baby at my boob and see if he could get the baby’s mouth ‘on target’. My boobs were definitely not my own.

I was desperate to fly the breastfeeding flag- I mean, the ‘F word’ was briefly mentioned at one of my antenatal classes. I think. And it was made very clear that only the best mothers breastfed their baby. Right?  If my husband could have erected a flag at the front of the house to declare my breastfeeding status, I would have happily helped him hammer in the pole! Ready for the mission, I was armed with creams, ice cubes, breast pads and a stoic attitude and it wasn’t long that I suddenly became a P.A to my boobs- fielding texts and phone calls about their well-being.

I even decided to go to a local breastfeeding group. Expecting to be involved in a clique of like-minded breastfeeding mothers, I was surprised to arrive and find that mums had turned up to just allow their toddlers to play. I sat, with my 10 day old baby asleep in the pram, ready for him to wake so I could latch him on and seek assurance from a breastfeeding expert. A few people commented on how ‘brave’ I was to be out of the house with a 10 day old baby and at a baby group already. But I’d had sleepless nights with the whole breastfeeding malarkey, and I suddenly became like the Tin Man and needed to see this Breastfeeding Wizard to find out what the hell I needed to do. Despite my baby only waking for 10 minutes, I did meet the wizard and was given the answers to my all-consuming questions- 1. Is my baby feeding enough? (You’d have thought evolution would have eventually given our boobs a measuring gauge) And 2. Is it normal for it to hurt so much? In case you were wondering- he was and, it is!

There were several…who am I kidding…MANY nights when I would cry because it was so bloody hard and tiring. Feeling like I’d been out for a jog and then had a crab pinch at my nipples, is not that relaxing to be able to just ‘go back to sleep’. My husband mentioned the F word every time. But I would not be beaten on this. It had become a personal challenge and it turns out that I am a very competitive person.

Fast forward to baby number two (who does not carry the status of ‘precious first born’). He is four months old and is currently going through a phase (I call it a phase to make it seem less permanent, but has lasted for a few weeks now) of feeding every two hours through the night. I have quite happily let my husband stock up on formula so he can take the charge of the 2am feed. Yes, my baby cries when presented with the bottle; he is eventually persuaded to drink less than an oz; and my husband is deprived of two hours of sleep throughout the process. But it does mean that I get a whole stint of four hours sleep. And that is precious.

It has taken two whole years for me to drop the whole breastfeeding snobbery- it is no easier to be anxiously waiting for the cue to get into action and prepare that bottle before your baby is in total melt down and beyond any wanting-to-feed state. I salute you formula feeding mums and I salute you breast feeding mums; both are knackering and both cause stresses beyond what you deemed possible. I mean, who knew that you would have arguments about the baby’s position looking ‘too straight to feed properly’.

Oh to have been able to visit my former self and tell her- if it’s breast/ bottle with breast milk/ bottle with formula, who cares! You are feeding your baby and doing an amazing job. And, as I soon discovered, when the stress of to formula feed or not to formula feed ends, the new mantel is taken over by the baby led weaning approach vs home-made puree-feeding vs shop-bought purees.

I must add this disclaimer- my first baby was breastfed for over 6 months. He then went on to discover home-made purees and fresh, organic food for his journey of baby led weaning. And despite all of this…yesterday, at two years old, he ate a total of three mini croissants and four nibbles of a corn on the cob! But he ate something and for that I do a little victory dance.

Outmumbered

I'm Abigail Keeble. I teach teenagers and I am a mum to two boys. Despite the whole pregnancy and labour malarkey, my boys are a mini version of my husband. I am learning on the job.

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