So, if you read my post titled 'Breastfeeding: Aversion's Loot' you may think that my breastfeeding days with my, now, 18 month old are over. Well, no.
It wasn't so simple.
Not least because, despite how hard it was I didn't want it to end - for her sake. But, also because she came down with a cold that very day. She couldn't breathe well through her nose that night and was tired, unhappy and unsettled. We all needed sleep. So, I think that was the first time that my husband began his new role: masseuse! If my neck/shoulder/head area (an area I tend to carry a lot of tension anyway) is massaged firmly enough it seems to help override much of the overwhelming aversion I suffer otherwise.
We still had some daytime feeds, well, only one a day maximum. Usually when she was tired and wanting sleep. But as time went on it became obvious that I couldn't hack it long enough to actually get her to sleep, which often ended with her beginning to drift off, me having to unlatch her and her breaking down into tears of despair and rage. Not a good look, especially with a pregnant mother who is bone tired and also desperate for sleep!
So, now it seems it's either no nap, or wait til she's starting to get short tempered with tiredness, and hope she'll fall asleep in the buggy (if I can drag my sorry self out of the house by that point)! If only we could be in synch with each other. Or, if I could just feed her like it seems so many other mum's still do.
Is it wrong that I have started becoming slightly bitter towards supposedly beautiful breastfeeding photos? I saw one the other day: a very pregnant woman in the sunshine, sitting in shallow waves with her toddler breastfeeding whilst she reclined on her hands smiling up at the sky. Gorgeous. But I just felt sad and envious. That won't be me, I thought.
Who'd' have thought that breastfeeding could stir up so many emotions?
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