I’ve written a lot about breastfeeding in the past. I fed Alexis until she was about 14 months and would have kept going had my milk not dried up while I was pregnant. William is currently enjoying the world of solids but has no intention of giving up mummy feeds any time soon. My views are no secret. I love breastfeeding. I think it’s awesome. I feel privileged to be able to nourish a small human with my body.
But it’s also annoying sometimes. Sometimes it’s very annoying.
For me breastfeeding has meant:
– I didn’t get to drink a hot beverage or eat a hot meal for the first few months of both kids’ lives.
– I’ve been wearing pants and a T-shirt for two and a half years.
– dirty looks from strangers in the shops.
– ugly plain maternity bras that cost a small fortune.
– teething babies make me cringe.
– approximately $1245639 spent on nursing pads.
– when I hold friends’ newborn babies they start ferreting around for a feed and I have to hand them back to mum.
– very limited time to myself.
– no alcohol.
– knowing that if I eat chocolate my son will vomit, if I drink coke my son will be up all night and if I have icecream my son will be incredibly grizzly.
– knowing that eating peas and broccoli will mean I’ll have to co-sleep for a night to get any rest.
– I can’t drink coffee at all. Both Alexis and William reacted horribly to it. The last time I tried coffee, William screamed uncontrollably for hours on end.
– knowing that nobody really wants to babysit my son because he’s too much of a boob fiend.
– sore shoulders, sore neck, sore boobs and sore back.
– missing out on certain social events because it’s all just too hard.
But yet I love it. It’s meant
– bonding (please don’t get your knickers in a twist over that statement. Yes there are other ways to bond with a baby but it’s my favourite way)
– a way to keep baby still while I play on my phone, blog, make a to-do-list or shopping list or have a little rest.
– when my babies were sick they weren’t seriously ill for very long.
– an easy way to lose weight.
– an excuse to cut in line when lining up for food at family events.
– an excuse to have a messy house. (I’m sorry darling, the baby fed all day.)
– an excuse to sit on my butt.
It’s the last two benefits of breastfeeding that are currently causing me the most grief though.
My house is currently trashed. Again? Still? I don’t even know anymore.
My problem: whenever I get on a roll with the housework, William decides he needs to have a feed and he needs to have a feed NOW. So I have to stop what I’m doing. So I lose momentum. He either feeds for five minutes (such an inconvenience really) or he feeds for ages. Either way his sister gets jealous and plonks herself on my lap so that when William has finished and goes off to play I then have to cuddle her. It doesn’t matter if I’ve just spent hours doting on them or tiring them out at the park.
Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE cuddles but I also have work to do. By the time I’ve shrugged off both the kids I’ve lost all motivation to clean or tidy or do anything. So we sit and have nice cuddles but I secretly wish they’d just leave me alone and let me work. Sometimes.
So I just have to get more motivated more easily. Except it’s not that simple. Even though William is now on solids he still loves mummy’s milk. So I’m still being woken multiple times a night, I’m still feeding a lot day and night and I’m still subject to those crazy milk-producing fatigue-inducing hormones. Oh the hormones. I love the miracle of feeding, I HATE the hormones. Not only do they make me sleepy but I forget what I was doing and I am thirsty and I’m hungry. Of course I can’t go into the kitchen without Alexis being hungry either… Then inevitably at least one of them will need a nappy change.
So my house continues to be a bomb zone. For now. I really want somebody to watch the kids for a weekend so I can get stuck in but it’s not happening. We make do the best we can. One of these days I’ll get a good night sleep and I’ll have all this energy. I’ll try not to let William steal it all. I’ll try not to let Alexis trap me on the couch.
Oh who am I kidding?
There’s not many years of cuddles left. I’ll make the most of them. Part of me can’t wait until the breastfeeding years are behind us but I know I’ll miss it when it’s over. For now my love-hate relationship with breastfeeding continues.