A lady whose blog I follow regularly posted about breastfeeding older children. She had two articles that made me really think, and the other one is linked in the one I just linked to.
I always assumed that up to 2 years old was a reasonable age to breastfeed, if mother and child were so inclined. My mom was my lactation consultant, and she didn't go over a year with any of us as far as I know. But she also breastfed her kids against the liberally expressed opinions of her religious mentor, who viewed formula as another God-given invention to make our lives easier so we could spend more time in His service. Which of course had nothing to do with caring for your children, but involved lots of political and religious campaigning to make the future world a more Christian place for your kids to be adults in. So of course my Mom wasn't going to breastfeed beyond the bottle stage.
With Andy, I figured I'd let him wean on his own. But then I got pregnant with Hunter. I just assumed that my body could not support pregnancy and nursing together, so I weaned him at a year. Looking back, I don't think it could have without several changes. I could have made those changes had I been of the mindset that tandem nursing was normal. And if I'd known then what I know now about nutrition. But I didn't. I had a hard enough time nursing Andy, being constantly dehydrated, malnourished, very stressed, and not taking vitamins because I didn't realize I needed them while nursing and I wasn't going to spend the money.
I was completely absorbed by Mark's problems at the time. His doctor had given him 6 months to live without major lifestyle changes, and that's why I got pregnant with Hunter. I was scared of turning into that single mom with a single son whose relationship becomes emotionally incestuous because they both have no one else. I knew I'd never get remarried. I wanted Andy to have a sibling for his own health. I was constantly depressed, didn't know that sleep deprivation is a big factor in poor milk production, couldn't keep enough bottled water around because of Mark's family and friends helping themselves to it regularly, and ate snacks most of the day because I was too exhausted and miserable to prepare a meal.
So it didn't even occur to me to keep breastfeeding through pregnancy. And if I had tried to, I couldn't have. Had I wanted to try, though, I would have probably researched it like I did everything else, and learned things that might have made it possible.
Then I weaned Hunter at 7 months, because he was so heavy and my back was in agony. He had begun to teethe, and wanted to nurse every half hour for about 3 minutes. His jaw was crooked when he was a baby as too; it straightened out around 4 years old. So that meant lots of plugged ducts and sore nipples, as well as feeling like I was constantly drenched in my own breast milk. Most unpleasant. I couldn't take it any more.
Looking back, I wouldn't have had those problems if Andy was still nursing too; he would have been able to nurse evenly and prevent the plugged ducts, as well as finish what Hunter was constantly starting and then abandoning just when I let down. As for my back, when it still hurt dreadfully after more than three years, my mom paid for me to see a chiropractor who determined my hip was out of whack from the difficult birth (10 lb. 7 oz. baby, shoulder dystocia); and after only a few sessions with some electrode thing, I was much better. Should have done it right after he was born. Just like I should have gotten physical therapy for the prolapsing.
So. In the end, coulda, shoulda, woulda. Can't do anything about that now. It got me thinking, though. Both boys have pretty bad cavities. Andy wouldn't have nearly so many without the Other Mother sneaking candy to him every night throughout toddlerhood, but still: would that have been prevented if I had breastfed them until, say, 2 years old? Or even 3? Probably.
I look at Morgan now. She's teething full blast. Having most of the same issues Hunter did, but she's smaller and my back is better now, so I will make it through. I figured I'd breastfeed her about a year. Until she can hold a sippee cup. Now I'm rethinking that. Maybe if I stick with this longer, she won't have the bad teeth her brothers are suffering with. Maybe our bond can be stronger.
And that's another thing. I can certainly see where nursing longer would have greatly improved my relationship with Andy. He would have suffered a lot less from the stresses of our household, I think. There would probably be less antagonism between us, more openness, more peace. It would have made gentle discipline easier. My most regretted moment with him is when he was about four and a half, and Mark was in rehab, and the stress of that was starting to bring out the repressed memories of my own childhood. I was wandering around crying and freaking out, and he tried to give me a hug. I shoved him away and screamed, "Don't touch me!" I will never forget the look on his face, complete shock and confusion and grief. I broke something that day that I'll never fully recover. And that's when I knew something was wrong with me. I wasn't just repressed and jittery and irritable. I had emotional problems and I needed help.
I still haven't been able to get all the help I need, but I found some of it. I apologized to him soon afterwards, of course, but it was already done. I hate being touched. Truly. I have learned to control my aversion over time, once I accepted that it wasn't normal. But it's still there. I tense up and cringe when I have to hug someone. But I wish I had allowed Andy to maintain that bond longer. It would have helped his emotional state during those stressful years.
Mark still isn't healthy. I will consider us very fortunate if he's still around when Morgan enters high school. And she is already such a daddy's girl. Even at only 3 months old, you can tell they have a strong bond. So anything I can do to strengthen the bond between her and me, without interfering with theirs, I should do. Because Daddy may well be gone by the time she enters those vulnerable teenage years. I need to have her trust, and she needs to know she has my unconditional love. Her childhood isn't going to be a basket of roses.
I can't say I will nurse until a certain age. I don't like the kind of clothes I have to wear for nursing, I don't like being unable to go out for more than a few hours without either soaking my clothes or stopping to nurse, I don't like having sore breasts and smelling like sour milk. But I'm a lot more willing to put up with it now than I used to be. We'll see what happens.
I always assumed that up to 2 years old was a reasonable age to breastfeed, if mother and child were so inclined. My mom was my lactation consultant, and she didn't go over a year with any of us as far as I know. But she also breastfed her kids against the liberally expressed opinions of her religious mentor, who viewed formula as another God-given invention to make our lives easier so we could spend more time in His service. Which of course had nothing to do with caring for your children, but involved lots of political and religious campaigning to make the future world a more Christian place for your kids to be adults in. So of course my Mom wasn't going to breastfeed beyond the bottle stage.
With Andy, I figured I'd let him wean on his own. But then I got pregnant with Hunter. I just assumed that my body could not support pregnancy and nursing together, so I weaned him at a year. Looking back, I don't think it could have without several changes. I could have made those changes had I been of the mindset that tandem nursing was normal. And if I'd known then what I know now about nutrition. But I didn't. I had a hard enough time nursing Andy, being constantly dehydrated, malnourished, very stressed, and not taking vitamins because I didn't realize I needed them while nursing and I wasn't going to spend the money.
I was completely absorbed by Mark's problems at the time. His doctor had given him 6 months to live without major lifestyle changes, and that's why I got pregnant with Hunter. I was scared of turning into that single mom with a single son whose relationship becomes emotionally incestuous because they both have no one else. I knew I'd never get remarried. I wanted Andy to have a sibling for his own health. I was constantly depressed, didn't know that sleep deprivation is a big factor in poor milk production, couldn't keep enough bottled water around because of Mark's family and friends helping themselves to it regularly, and ate snacks most of the day because I was too exhausted and miserable to prepare a meal.
So it didn't even occur to me to keep breastfeeding through pregnancy. And if I had tried to, I couldn't have. Had I wanted to try, though, I would have probably researched it like I did everything else, and learned things that might have made it possible.
Then I weaned Hunter at 7 months, because he was so heavy and my back was in agony. He had begun to teethe, and wanted to nurse every half hour for about 3 minutes. His jaw was crooked when he was a baby as too; it straightened out around 4 years old. So that meant lots of plugged ducts and sore nipples, as well as feeling like I was constantly drenched in my own breast milk. Most unpleasant. I couldn't take it any more.
Looking back, I wouldn't have had those problems if Andy was still nursing too; he would have been able to nurse evenly and prevent the plugged ducts, as well as finish what Hunter was constantly starting and then abandoning just when I let down. As for my back, when it still hurt dreadfully after more than three years, my mom paid for me to see a chiropractor who determined my hip was out of whack from the difficult birth (10 lb. 7 oz. baby, shoulder dystocia); and after only a few sessions with some electrode thing, I was much better. Should have done it right after he was born. Just like I should have gotten physical therapy for the prolapsing.
So. In the end, coulda, shoulda, woulda. Can't do anything about that now. It got me thinking, though. Both boys have pretty bad cavities. Andy wouldn't have nearly so many without the Other Mother sneaking candy to him every night throughout toddlerhood, but still: would that have been prevented if I had breastfed them until, say, 2 years old? Or even 3? Probably.
I look at Morgan now. She's teething full blast. Having most of the same issues Hunter did, but she's smaller and my back is better now, so I will make it through. I figured I'd breastfeed her about a year. Until she can hold a sippee cup. Now I'm rethinking that. Maybe if I stick with this longer, she won't have the bad teeth her brothers are suffering with. Maybe our bond can be stronger.
And that's another thing. I can certainly see where nursing longer would have greatly improved my relationship with Andy. He would have suffered a lot less from the stresses of our household, I think. There would probably be less antagonism between us, more openness, more peace. It would have made gentle discipline easier. My most regretted moment with him is when he was about four and a half, and Mark was in rehab, and the stress of that was starting to bring out the repressed memories of my own childhood. I was wandering around crying and freaking out, and he tried to give me a hug. I shoved him away and screamed, "Don't touch me!" I will never forget the look on his face, complete shock and confusion and grief. I broke something that day that I'll never fully recover. And that's when I knew something was wrong with me. I wasn't just repressed and jittery and irritable. I had emotional problems and I needed help.
I still haven't been able to get all the help I need, but I found some of it. I apologized to him soon afterwards, of course, but it was already done. I hate being touched. Truly. I have learned to control my aversion over time, once I accepted that it wasn't normal. But it's still there. I tense up and cringe when I have to hug someone. But I wish I had allowed Andy to maintain that bond longer. It would have helped his emotional state during those stressful years.
Mark still isn't healthy. I will consider us very fortunate if he's still around when Morgan enters high school. And she is already such a daddy's girl. Even at only 3 months old, you can tell they have a strong bond. So anything I can do to strengthen the bond between her and me, without interfering with theirs, I should do. Because Daddy may well be gone by the time she enters those vulnerable teenage years. I need to have her trust, and she needs to know she has my unconditional love. Her childhood isn't going to be a basket of roses.
I can't say I will nurse until a certain age. I don't like the kind of clothes I have to wear for nursing, I don't like being unable to go out for more than a few hours without either soaking my clothes or stopping to nurse, I don't like having sore breasts and smelling like sour milk. But I'm a lot more willing to put up with it now than I used to be. We'll see what happens.
((((Hug)))) It sounds like you made good choices for your family. Every breastfeeding relationship is unique. <3 It also sounds like you might be dealing with oversupply--I know that after the first 3 months or so, I don't have any leaking, etc. Have you checked out www.kellymom.com? It is my favorite site for anything related to breastfeeding. :)
ReplyDeleteThankyou. :) No, I'm not oversupplied; I have to make water a constant priority in order to maintain a decent supply at all. I just can't seem to hold it in. I will check out that website right away.....
ReplyDelete