It is incredible to know that my body built Roscoe from scratch (with Andy's help, he wanted me to add), nourished him, grew him, and gave birth to him, and then sustained him exclusively for the first 6 months of his life. I did all that. me.
Before Roscoe was born I had a lot of questions about breastfeeding. They weren't focused so much on if I was going to do it, or how I was going to do it, but more on how it would feel to do it, and whether or not that level of intimacy would be weird. As for logistics, I was under the impression that breastfeeding was a natural skill inherent to mothering, and I more or less pushed away the awkward thoughts I had about putting baby to breast in favor of waiting to figure it all out when the time actually came.
I'll admit that when my midwife asked if I would like to try to nurse, just minutes after Roscoe was born and before my placenta had even been delivered, it did feel a little awkward to offer something so personal to this itty bitty person that I couldn't hardly recognize but, I was curious to see what he would do.
At less than 10 minutes old, Roscoe did what came naturally to his newly born self, and with that first latch we began what may be the most defining, demanding, and deeply satisfying aspect of our relationship.
I had my midwife's number on speed dial those first few days. It was fortunate for me that she is a lactation consultant and former La Leche League leader. She taught me a lot about nursing. The primary lessons? Nursing satisfies a baby beyond hunger and A baby's wants are a baby's needs. Nursing is more than feeding.
I've since written many a post about nursing and over the past 19 months I've had the pleasure of experiencing a full range of conflicting emotion. In reality, we had a rough start, the dedication required to exclusively breastfeed was almost more than I could take at times, and for many months I could only dream of my former freedom and independence.
Around the ten week mark we finally clicked as a momma/nursling pair and nursing was as easy and convenient as I had imagined it could be. But it was more than that. Magical. (Wow, would I have used these words to describe nursing before I had experienced it?) It satisfied my hunger to nurture my son in a way that only nursing could, and the act of it alone met every one of Roscoe's physical and emotional needs. Before Roscoe made his debut I was well accustomed to achieving and doing--a way of being that made it difficult for me to transition into the new realities of motherhood. Nursing forced the opportunity to take breaks in our busy days and connect with each other. The physical and emotional demands remained, but it was around this time that I began to own my new role and nursing mother became part of my identity.
I never set out to nurse Roscoe for a specific amount of time, but I had hoped to make it through the first year. The idea of nursing a toddler didn't seem crazy to me, but it wasn't something I could relate to either. By the time Roscoe turned one he wasn't just a toddler, he was my toddler. Continuing to nurse was a given for us.
When I found out I was pregnant with Little Sears, Roscoe was 14 months old and blame it on the hormones, but within a month or two my experience nursing had changed from a pleasant and easy going activity, to one that elicited an antsy and uncomfortable full-body sensation. There were days where I had to cut our sessions short because I just couldn't stand it. On several occasions I convinced myself that our last session had been our LAST session. These feelings come and go still, but obviously we're hanging on. I think the biggest pressure to wean is that I find it hard to imagine the logistics of juggling the demands of a nursing newborn coupled with nursing to meet the emotional needs of an active toddler. Tandem nursing isn't something that I readily identify with although I know it is an option.
So, I've been fretting over this decision, quietly and passively. Stewing really. Contemplating the situation without wanting to take action. Once I became pregnant, Roscoe weaned himself from four evenly spaced daily nursing sessions to just one. All that remains is his nurse-to-nap at 11:00 am every morning. It's a nursing that means a lot to him, but I've not convinced myself that he needs it, and I've equally not convinced myself that I have good reason to take it away.
In perfect timing I attended a La Leche League meeting on Saturday morning. Oh, sanity-saving, norm altering, reason-inducing LLLi, how do I love thee? More than I can ever express.
La Leche League has been my oasis in a societal dessert of general breastfeeding non-support.
As I listened to a room full of mothers share their questions and experiences nursing their children, I found myself offering advice and nodding my head in agreement. I identified with each of their stories--our experiences mirrored theirs, and theirs ours. Yes, for the first time I even saw myself in the woman who breastfed her giant 2 1/2 year old three times over the course of 2 hours. When it was my turn I shared my uncertainty about how to move forward with the baby's arrival on the horizon, and I heard the process that others went through and their personal reasons for why some chose to tandem nurse while others did not, and how it actually played out for them once the second baby was born.
I realized that if we are content (which we are), there's no need to force a change on an otherwise mutually satisfying relationship. A lot can happen in four months. Roscoe may make the decision to wean on his own. If not, I've released the pressure on myself to do anything in particular in order to generate a specific outcome.
I'm Roscoe's Momma and right now our relationship involves a comfort nurse once a day. Everything will be OK. As for my concern that Roscoe will revert to wanting to nurse more often once his little brother is born? Come what may. If so, I guess I'll have become one of those Momma's. The evolving experience of nursing my son has certainly changed my attitudes and norms about nursing in general. No longer do I extend an awkward smile at the sight of a nursing toddler, instead it makes me happy to know that those two are lucky enough to still benefit from and enjoy an essential relationship that will forever be uniquely theirs.