My breastfeeding story is simple. When I gave birth to my son, they helped me latch him on and the little guy eagerly started sucking. Nastja, I remember that in all that euphoria you helped me with the latch, or rather with a more comfortable position. Thank you, because I breastfed in that position for a long time (it’s harder now, when he’s on all fours and rocking at the same time). In the maternity ward I offered him the breast whenever he wanted, and I remember he wanted to nurse every three hours. The months went by, and his need to suck changed accordingly.
I left breast care to my partner. It sounds funny, but it means he was the one who carefully brought home different creams and compresses. He made sure I wasn’t the one having to think about what I needed. If I complained even a little, the next day I already had this or that at home. And it didn’t stop at bringing things home—several times a day he reminded me to take care of my breasts so they wouldn’t crack or hurt. I remember the “milk coming in” hurt terribly when I was still in the maternity ward. I was given medication and that same night it was better. In the maternity ward I had “promotional” compresses with me, which really helped a lot with the first feeds, when the breasts are still sensitive.
Personally, what bothered me most was that I didn’t know that while the baby is nursing from one breast, milk can leak from the other at the same time. For the first month I walked around the apartment in shirts soaked with milk, changed up to three shirts a night, because my breasts would leak on their own—not to mention bras, all “stained” with milk. There are nursing pads, so the milk leaks into a cotton pad. It’s extremely unpleasant. With pressure you feel a burning sensation, the milk doesn’t have a completely free flow and it can even stop. That means the milk stayed in the breast, and sometimes that can lead to mastitis, or an unpleasant tight feeling until the next feed, when you can hardly wait for it to empty more than it otherwise would. When breastfeeding, I preferred to use a muslin cloth and cover the breast so it would absorb the milk. It’s also important to have different bras. I’m grateful to my wonderful friends, because I didn’t spend a cent on a bra—and honestly, I wouldn’t even have known what kind I needed. In the first weeks, when the breasts are really full, even the softest bra can be a reason for mastitis. At least that’s how it was for me. I had a soft bra with an inner piece of fabric that holds the breast when you open the bra, and it was still the cause of mastitis starting. I noticed it in time and helped myself with frozen cabbage. You need to keep an eye on your breasts, especially in the first weeks.
The first months are a bit more demanding, but still very special, and those moments when your baby is still so tiny and helpless—breastfeeding is magical. Magical because you’re proud that with your own milk you’re supporting your child’s development and growth, and of course your baby is also getting your antibodies. Still, I have to admit that lifting the baby after every feed and waiting for a burp in the first months wasn’t easy.
I exclusively breastfed my son until he was six months old. For him, breastfeeding wasn’t cuddling—it was work and when he was full, he turned away and grabbed his pacifier. He couldn’t fall asleep at the breast. That only happened when he didn’t have a speck of energy left, but it was fewer than 10 times. A friend advised me, when she was visiting and my son couldn’t fall asleep, to offer him the breast. My answer: “How am I supposed to offer him the breast? He’s not hungry, he’s sleepy. He can’t fall asleep at the breast.” Children are different, but I’m grateful that for my son, breasts meant food.
I’m speaking in the past tense. Yes. My son will be turning 9 months old now. He took to solid food well, and I added meals week by week. The first week lunch, the second week dinner, and all of a sudden I realized I was already preparing all his meals throughout the day. If he shows me he wants the breast, I offer it to him, but that happens very rarely. During the day, mostly not at all anymore. These days he’s been bothered by teething—crying, asking for it and crawling after me, and he calmed down only at the breast. At night I still offer him the breast too. Now it’s happened a few times that he drank from one breast, then the other, but only a quarter. Then he sobbed. He didn’t want the breast. I made him a full bottle (180 ml) of formula and he drank every last drop. What to do? Let go. I surrendered to breastfeeding when I swaddled him, and I’m surrendering to the fact that he’s starting to bite into solid food and drink “someone else’s” milk from a bottle.
It was sweet and lovely to breastfeed him. If my breasts meant work and food for six months, I think that for my son now, when he’s already a “big boy,” they mean comfort and cuddles.
P.S. Thank you, my prince, for eating up my pregnancy kilos along with the milk. By the way, there were 23 extra.
Photo: personal archive
