Friends of ours have just had a baby, by just, I mean in the last week. Wonderful news indeed. Their little bundle of boy will probably be at the stage where babies do what I had somewhat foolishly believed babies always do, sleep and feed, sleep and feed, with the occasional happy gurgle. In fact I remember commenting to my husband that I didnt know what all the fuss was about, that living with a new baby was easy peasy lemon squeezy. At eight weeks of age, everything changed. Feeding and sleeping were now interrupted by prolonged periods of awakeness and an accompanying reluctance to be anything other than awake. Easy peasy no more. Anyway, I digress, I have not of course shared the 'Eight Week Metamorphosis' with our happy friends, not wishing to burst their cuddly bubble and of course, it may be that their delightful offspring continues to be just that. Hmmm.
One thing I do know, New Mummy is breastfeeding. Now this is something which I do truthfully miss about babies, but I have not forgotten the complete awfulness invloved which NOBODY tells you about. Oh no. Keen as I was, I devoured information on establishing breastfeeding with almost as much ferocity as I devoured rather too many jam doughnuts. Still working, I borrowed the educational baby doll from the office and put its little plastic face to my bosom. Oh yes, by the time my baby was born, I had a clear mental checklist of latching on, breastfeeding posiions, etc etc. I was looking forward to doing what I had read about, 'relax and watch your baby feed' accompanied by a soft focus picture of a pretty, presentable mother and baby who had clearly bonded at conception.
Total shock when the picture in our house was somewhat different. A tired, possibly slightly grumpy mother, pale and dishevelled in the cold light of day, clad in pyjamas with the obligatory patch of baby sick up on one shoulder, (at any time of day or night), toes curling in pain as my beautful new baby fed happily with a sucking power I had only ever encountered on a vacuum cleaner. How is this possible? How can a creature who cannot support its own head, find the strength to stretch and pull a nipple beyond recognition? I watched my baby feed alright, and I got pretty good at recognising when she was about to do the 'I'm finished, think I'll have a stretch, but won't let go' thing.
Partly because I am stubborn, well, mainly because I am stubborn, I persevered. There was a brief foray into the world of nipple shields, but the poor child struggled to get what is essentially a toy traffic cone into her mouth without getting poked in the eye. As time went on, my toes began to uncurl, I stopped crying when she cried to be fed and I truly did enjoy her feeding. It was just us, and at night when we were both fighting to stay awake in the dim night light, listening to the gentle tick of the clock and soft baby snuffles, it became almost magical.
I wish my new mummy friend the very best in her breastfeeding endeavours and should it not work out, I hope she wont beat herself up about it. My boobs were my own again when my babies were around four months old and after seeing what eager little baby teeth can do to the teat of a bottle, I am very glad I stopped when I did.
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