NIP

During my second pregnancy, I became very excited as I thought of the new life inside me and my growing breasts. I knew that I would again have the opportunity to have a wonderful closeness with a baby and I was determined not to let it end as the first one had. Unfortunately, my first breastfeeding relationship ended prematurely. This was partly due to my own lack of knowledge, partly from bad advice from others, partly from lack of advice from my local lactation counselor, partly due to my severely waning milk supply, and partly due to the urgings of my increasingly frustrated husband who, while sympathetic to my wishes, was himself very tired of hearing the baby scream each night in our bed when he could not get enough milk. It was the saddest moment in my life as a mother when I gave my baby that first bottle of formula at nearly 11 months of age. I was very disappointed about how readily he drank it. That’s not true; I was crushed. But it was this sadness that made me determined not to have a repeat of this experience with my next child.

As a first time mother in 2001, I knew that I wanted to breastfeed my baby. Truth be told, I had always known, even before I was pregnant. How? I’m not entirely sure. I knew my grandmother had done it. She was also a nurse and had lamented to me on the loss of wet nurses. She felt they were invaluable in helping orphaned babies and babies whose own mothers were ill or unable to breastfeed for some reason. But, frankly, this conversation was not at the front of my mind. I just had this feeling that it was the right thing to do. I did some reading on it and knew that it was best. I was determined not to let my baby have formula, but more than that I was anticipating the satisfaction of that first moment where my baby would be latched on and staring at me. I longed for that closeness. I was not disappointed. I was however disappointed by the enormity of negativity surrounding breastfeeding. People who presumed to tell a nursing mother that “it is not worth it” profoundly confused me. The reasons were many; too painful, too tiring, too hard, too time-consuming, too co-dependent, too (insert myth here). Additionally, I was appalled and frankly hurt by the disdainful looks from others while nursing my baby in public, and even when talking about nursing! I just couldn’t understand what these other people had against such a beautiful, healthful, and natural act that brings mother and baby as close as possible and gives the baby the absolute best nutritional beginning in life.

When I found out I was pregnant again in July of 2004, I was thrilled. I had such a pleasant pregnancy with my little boy and was looking forward to a second…and possibly a little girl. I knew that I would breastfeed this baby and I spent my few free minutes each day imagining my birth experience and my first opportunity to breastfeed. My imaginings turned a little worrisome though when I received “the news.” My triple screen results were back and they were abnormal. My husband was deployed to Iraq and I was living far away from my family and suddenly felt very, very alone and scared. I went in for the obligatory dating ultrasound to see if the triple screen had actually been done at the appropriate stage of the pregnancy. I knew this ultrasound was not going to hold valuable information about the dates of my pregnancy. Due to another trip with the Army, my husband had also been away immediately before I got pregnant. I knew exactly when my conception had taken place due to the date of his return. So, it was with great cynicism that I went to the ultrasound. I prayed that I was one of the mothers that had unusual triple screen results for no reason at all. I knew that this ultrasound would not give me any useful information and I began bracing myself for the amniocentesis. I was wrong. I had been in the ultrasound room for exactly ten seconds worth of scanning. My jaw dropped in disbelief and the technician asked me if I had seen that. There was a pause as I began to tear up. “Oh my gosh, are there two of them?” I asked. She replied that there were indeed two babies in there. I couldn’t believe it. Another 30 seconds of scanning revealed, two boys, probably identical. I was stunned to say the least.

I was then strapped with a whole new set of worries. Did I mention that I’m a worrier? I am. Would I go into labor early? Would my husband return from Iraq in time for the birth? Would I really be able to breastfeed twins? My head was swimming with the questions and the possibilities. And WHERE was my little girl? Well, the answers turned out to be no, yes, and yes. And, I couldn’t be more thrilled with my boys. Was it easy? No way. Pregnancy became much more of a burden at the end than my first pregnancy had been. Having two in there definitely changes the rules and makes you tired and huge. Two infants are much more demanding than one. Those non-parents who make the mistake of asking a new parent some silly question like, “Don’t they sleep like 18 hours a day?” deserve any reactive slap they might receive, especially if you have twins, or more! Not that I normally advocate violence, but if you ask that question, you pretty much deserve it.

Though I was as determined as ever and had read much more on breastfeeding by the time the twins arrived, I was admittedly very arrogant about my ability to breastfeed any baby that came down the pike, or the birth canal, whichever. I thought my only mistake the first time around had been reducing my pumping schedule to save some room in my overloaded freezer. I was not about to make that mistake again. However, I never considered that I might have other difficulties. When one of my twins had tremendous problems latching on and my nipples were bleeding, I began to get a little shaken. Then, in swooped the thrush. It nested there for about six weeks. Thankfully, after about three trips to my local La Leche League meetings, three trips to the hospital lactation consultant, one trip to the OB/GYN, and two trips to the pediatrician, the bleeding nipples improved. The thrush was a very difficult customer. After countless rounds of cream and suspensions of medication, I was finally given the number to a pharmacy that mixed Gentian Violet. Voila! No more thrush. Whew!

So, you may be asking yourself if I still love breastfeeding. The answer is a resounding yes! It is still challenging, even at six months. I am a working mother and must pump two to three times daily to make milk for the boys. Pumping is not fun, but it gets the job done. But, when I come home and get to nurse those two happy, chubby little faces every evening, I know I’m doing the right thing. There were so many moments when I began to distrust my body and my ability to exclusively breastfeed these babies. I am fortunate to have had the La Leche League, the lactation consultant, the understanding OB/GYN, and the pediatrician. I also had one other experience that was undoubtedly the moment at which my decision to persist was solidified.

I was about eight weeks post-partum when Mother’s Day rolled around this year. Fortunately, I was still on maternity leave and the pain and thrush were all but gone. My husband wanted to take me to the Officer’s Club on Fort Bragg for the holiday. They have a lovely brunch every year. So, we packed up all the kids and off we went. I nursed the boys immediately before leaving the house and was hoping that they would wait until we returned home to nurse again. Brunch, while pleasant, is busy and loud at the Officer’s Club. I was a little anxious about having to nurse in a large public forum. Well, just as I finished my last bite of richly deserved bacon, it happened. One baby started to wake and his cry and tongue motions left no doubt as to what he wanted. I decided, as much for my own comfort as for the quiet it would allow, to move to the ladies lounge to nurse the babies while my husband took our older son outside for a nice stroll. I went into the lounge parked the stroller and prepped myself to nurse. I also prepped myself for what I thought would be the inevitable dirty looks. I braced myself for the first time that door would open and another woman would enter. Again, I was wrong in my assumptions. I really don’t like to be wrong, but it was truly a pleasant surprise in this case.

I was in a comfortable chair in that lounge for about an hour total. I had about a dozen women tell me how wonderful they thought it was that I was nursing. Several of them talked to me about their own positive breastfeeding experiences. One spoke to her daughter about what I was doing and told her that breastfeeding is the way babies should be fed! As for those that didn’t speak, every last one of them flashed me a genuine smile when they saw what I was doing. With each opening of that door, I felt more and more confident and just plain happy with my decision to breastfeed the twins and to persevere. In particular, two women touched me with their words.

The first was a young mother. She had her daughter with her. She told me that she had breastfed both of her children and that she was so please to see me nursing since it is not often that you see that. She talked about how wonderful breastfeeding had made her feel and that despite advice to the contrary, she did not wean her son until he was nearly three. She said she wanted him to be the one to initiate weaning. She had also breastfed her daughter for over two years. She looked at me and the boys with a longing that I recognized as the feeling I had after weaning my first child. I felt a kinship with this woman. Only a woman who has had a breastfeeding relationship with their child can understand the happiness that it brings.

The second woman who touched me was a British woman of about 70. She was dressed in a gregarious floral print and a large hat and entered the room with a real presence about her. She looked at me and immediately came over to speak to me. She said, “That is so wonderful what you are doing. Do you know I nursed this one until she was four?” She said this as she pointed to a heavy woman coming in the door behind her. The woman, about 40, was American and clearly mortified. She said, “Mother, you did not. I remember being four and I wasn’t doing that!” The daughter went off to find a toilet stall and the older woman stayed with me for a minute. She said, “You know, many women don’t do this, but isn’t just the most wonderful thing? Your baby will be so healthy! And you look so wonderful too. Happy Mother’s Day!” She toddled off to find a stall. When she returned, she looked at me again. In the interim, I had switched sides, and babies. The look of realization moved slowly across her face, as she looked at my nursing baby and then at the double stroller. She came over to me again. “Oh my, I didn’t notice the first time, but you are nursing twins! That is so wonderful. Have you supplemented?” I replied that I was not supplementing. Her face lit up again. “How wonderful! You keep right on doing it no matter what anyone says.” She began to leave, then she added, “And drink lots of water. Water makes milk you know. I’m sure you’ll have plenty.”

I was thrilled. These two women, and all the others with their positive comments, had truly made my day and strengthened my resolve. It was a wonderful Mother’s Day for me. I started to really feel the sisterhood of mothers. No kidding, I had this urge to go outside and yell, “I am a mother. WA-hoooooooooooo!” I restrained myself, but I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face for the rest of the day, in fact, the rest of the week. Since then, I have had my share of nasty looks as I nurse my babies in public. I get a lot of extra attention anyway since most people notice that we have twins right away. I have also had some minor supply issues. But, I have also had more positive comments from friends, family, and strangers, AND my babies continue to drink breastmilk exclusively. While many breastfeeding mothers are harassed, I implore you to look around. Shy as they may be, there are women out there wherever you go who are envious of your relationship with your baby. They watch you out of the corners of their eyes and think how wonderful it is. They smile to themselves. They are happy for you. Be happy for yourself and enjoy your nurslings!

Heather
Proud mommy of Connor (14DEC01), and Jack and Sam (11MAR05).
(I have cross-posted this on other breastfeeding advocacy sites.)

	Author	Topic: NIP (Read 6095 times)
0 Members and 1 Guest are viewing this topic.