Breastfeeding—The Drama
I’m getting real tired of my own whining, so I really wish I posted an entry here last Thursday, which was a glass half full kind of day. We passed our second “test” at the hospital’s breastfeeding clinic, which meant no more clumsy lactation aid. (Our first test was getting off formula—I was so happy I almost yelped out loud with joy.) And after two difficult weeks, I had finally started to feel like I was—we were—getting the hang of things.
But today was a bad, bad day: fussy baby that made it near impossible to shower or eat and making us late for our appointment at the clinic, plus snow and rain to boot. (Note to self: Next time—if there is a next time—plan to have baby in spring/summer; it’s hard to be depressed when it’s sunny and warm out.) And the last straw: we’re back on the lactation aid. This when we were sure today would be our “graduation day,” and the end of treks to the clinic. Seems there’s a problem with the “transfer,” which means I have the milk and Zach’s latch is finally corrected but he’s still not sucking vigorously enough. I can’t help but take this failure personally and though I hate to admit it, I’m starting to resent him for it. I joke aloud about him being a “slacker,” but it’s not so funny when I get home and between the breastfeeding, lactation aid, pumping and cleaning of all the various accoutrements, I’m left with only one hour out of every three to take care of my own needs—and that includes sleeping, eating and showering.
Ultimately, his failure is my failure, so I can’t help the feelings of inadequacy as he fails to “thrive,” as the professionals call it. Like so many babies, Zach lost a bunch of weight after birth, and our poor breastfeeding technique delayed his recovery. It took two weeks to return to his birth weight, and though he’s surpassed it now, the counsellors today said he’s only getting just enough milk to survive. To make things worse, through all the breastfeeding drama, I have to field daily calls from all the grandparents on his progress or lack thereof. (So that they can go on to call all their friends and family to give them the intimate update.) As something of an overachiever, this developmental delay is hugely disconcerting. Who knew learning breastfeeding technique was harder than both my degrees combined?
But today was a bad, bad day: fussy baby that made it near impossible to shower or eat and making us late for our appointment at the clinic, plus snow and rain to boot. (Note to self: Next time—if there is a next time—plan to have baby in spring/summer; it’s hard to be depressed when it’s sunny and warm out.) And the last straw: we’re back on the lactation aid. This when we were sure today would be our “graduation day,” and the end of treks to the clinic. Seems there’s a problem with the “transfer,” which means I have the milk and Zach’s latch is finally corrected but he’s still not sucking vigorously enough. I can’t help but take this failure personally and though I hate to admit it, I’m starting to resent him for it. I joke aloud about him being a “slacker,” but it’s not so funny when I get home and between the breastfeeding, lactation aid, pumping and cleaning of all the various accoutrements, I’m left with only one hour out of every three to take care of my own needs—and that includes sleeping, eating and showering.
Ultimately, his failure is my failure, so I can’t help the feelings of inadequacy as he fails to “thrive,” as the professionals call it. Like so many babies, Zach lost a bunch of weight after birth, and our poor breastfeeding technique delayed his recovery. It took two weeks to return to his birth weight, and though he’s surpassed it now, the counsellors today said he’s only getting just enough milk to survive. To make things worse, through all the breastfeeding drama, I have to field daily calls from all the grandparents on his progress or lack thereof. (So that they can go on to call all their friends and family to give them the intimate update.) As something of an overachiever, this developmental delay is hugely disconcerting. Who knew learning breastfeeding technique was harder than both my degrees combined?
Tags: aid, breastfeeding, lactation
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