... and we all know how I like to get all As. I don't like my C.
Tomorrow evening we go to our first La Leche
meeting. It can't come too soon.
This afternoon I threw the Maya wrap all around the house, kicked the Dr. Sears book, and then promptly broke down and cried. (I can't get the Maya wrap to "work" right.)
Yes, having a baby will cause you to regress to age two. I better grow up quickly, because Cricket is ready to over take me in maturity terms.
It's like this: When we came home from the hospital, the "orders" were to breastfeed up to three times a day. That meant bottles all other times. We opted to try breastfeeding during the day, leaving bottles for night when Partner could get up and do some of the shifts. Not like this really gave me much rest, since I had to get up and pump and do all the rigamarole
involved with pumping, but still... And not that bottles at night were easy. There was all the warming up of the bottle involved, transferring to a "better" bottle, since the hospital nipples-- well, what was the point? The milk came pouring out of them. There was no way we were ever going to get Cricket on the boob if he didn't have to start sucking, even a little. And then he'd eat and eat and eat and we'd have to keep warming up more bottles since the tiny bottles I pumped into only held 60 ml. And of course the guilt we'd both feel if we warmed up more milk than he'd eat. There was all the pumping time down the tubes.
After Cricket's one week check up determined he was gaining weight, I decided I was going all boob, all the time. I dreaded being totally responsible, but we had to do it.
And guess what? It worked. He totally complied with the new regimen.
He's a breast man now, my friends.
But man, he's a breast man now, my friends... *Sigh*
First of all, since he was small to start and one of my breasts weighs more than him, he opted to feed with the clutch hold. And I naively thought that we'd only be doing that for a short while. After all, the football hold doesn't exactly lend itself to public feeding, mainly because I need a pillow to prop him up. I tried doing a cross cradle yesterday. Yeah. Not really. So basically at this point, I feel that I will never ever be able to feed him anywhere else by in the two "nursing"chairs in the house: one upstairs, and one downstairs.
The second issue we're having is that he's slow. I read all these books (I should stop) and they talk about a baby being on each breast for ten minutes. Is that for real? Ten minutes? That's a dream. In "fast" feedings, Cricket is on each breast for at least twenty, but usually a "fast" feeding takes at least an hour. And that's a rare thing, mostly he's in for the long haul.
For example, last night he woke at 3:44. Partner changed him and handed him to me soon after that. From 4:00 to 5:00 am, Cricket ate and I watched Cosby. At 5:00 am, I started watching the local news. Around 5:45 he decided he was done and would sleep. That's a long feeding. One hour. Forty-five minutes. He does this also in the early evening.
I am feeling particularly tethered. I am watching scads of bad tv
(think MTV programs like Maui Fever, The Hills and Juvies
among my "favorites" and then there's always the "Real" Housewives.). It's hard to read and hold his head and my breast. My ass is going flat, and my lower back, uhg
And this only part of my issue: We have a champion spitter
-upper. Out the nose, out the mouth. I've cut out milk and that seems to have eliminated
the "frothy" spit up, but we still have loads. He squirms and grunts and I am racked with guilt-- what did I eat to cause him pain? He pulls at the nipple. Once I thought I had lost it and Cricket had his first solid.
I also am not totally sure we're always latched correctly.
We're at the six week marker here, exactly when it was supposed to get easier, and for some reason it only seems to be getting harder.
So the La Leche
meeting is just in time. I'm going to get a lactation consultant in too. He does all the requisite eliminations, so I know he's getting food, and on Friday at the pediatrician (which we keep calling the vet; what's that about?) he weighed 8 lbs 4.5 oz. So he's gaining weight... Just tell me he's going to get big enough soon so we can breastfeed in public. And please tell me he will get more effective and won't feed for two hours at a time (which we did this afternoon while watching Love Story).
I love breastfeeding; I want to do this for at least a year. I love looking down at his little head, and I feel a certain amount of pride at his pudgy
fingers. It's not an option to go back to that pumping bottle madness. Hopefully we get some answers tomorrow.
I can't stand how shoddily this post was written, and how disjointed. But I'm leaning back in the office chair with Cricket sleeping on me, so I guess this is where blogging is for now...