I’m starting to wonder if every time we attempt to nurse is going to be the last time. I say attempt because he doesn’t seem to be getting much milk out between forgetting how to latch and my dwindling supply.
I’m not ready for this.
I think he would still be nursing nap and bedtime if our schedule was hectic with babysitting. He either falls to sleep on the way there or doesn’t nap. If he doesn’t nap, then he falls asleep on the way home. That means he pretty much is guaranteed to not nurse on days I work. I have only been able to nurse him to sleep at work three times and a few times he nursed a couple minutes but didn’t sleep.
He has a very hard time falling asleep for nap if he isn’t in the car or nursing in his room. He still really needs nap. This is one big reason I was trying to increase my supply with moringa the last few weeks. I really need him to take nap so I can do my schoolwork.
I don’t know how to be ready for this.
Two and two thirds years. Thirty two months. One hundred and forty one weeks. Nine hundred and ninety two days.
How will I be his mom without our nursing relationship? It often helps us reset if the day has been rough. There was even comfort nursing this week when he jabbed a straw into the back of his mouth. Nursing is the best way to stop a baby’s mouth from bleeding. What good will I be if I can’t nurse him when he is hurt?
As I type this on my phone, I am hiding under a blanket in his room. It is pitch black and there is a lullabye on repeat just barely audible over a box fan on high. He’s trying to fall asleep in his bed with his froggies and his quilt. He turns or talks or asks for water or a hug every few minutes.
Now he is in my arms, under the blanket with me, after sleepily asking to snuggle.
I never set breastfeeding goals. The doctors set weight goals.
I was so nervous about his first bottle at five weeks in preparation for being away from me for one hour and forty five minutes. What if he decided that was better than me and refused to nurse again? His last bottle was about a year ago. I didn’t mourn it, only the few bags of donated milk that expired.
I managed to pump and hand express twelve ounces of milk for my friend. Pumping just never worked for my body. Maybe next time. Or maybe next time I won’t have all the problems we had.
I worked so hard to nurse this baby. I never questioned it. I just knew I had to feed him and calm him. Nursing was often the only way he stopped crying.
I remember the first time he got a letdown. He was about six months and I had been nursing him in the ring sling for all of his naps. I went against the advice I had been given and it worked. He had been asleep. His eyes popped open and he held on with both hands as the milk flowed fast into his little mouth. They fluttered closed again when the flow lessened. I couldn’t believe we just did it!
He is sound asleep in my arms now. He fills my whole lap in this old green rocking chair, legs draping over the edge. His lips scrunch the exact same way they did when he was a newborn, only sleeping in my arms.
Somehow we will be ready.