considering weaning...

Okay, most everyone is tired of hearing about the continuing nipple saga. Well, now there is more. So, it's been painful to nurse now for almost three months but I have been sucking up like a trooper, gritting my teeth and doing it anyway. Some times of the day are worse than others, like around 3:30 or 4:00 when I have had to nurse and had scabs sucked off four or five times already. Usually by then, there are empty threats of making him a "formula baby" from here on out.

This whole thing makes me so sad. I stopped nursing Paxton before his first birthday because, frankly, to nurse a child of his size for any longer was physically difficult. My God, the child weighed almost 20 pounds at seven months and could practically grab my shirt, wrestle my arm away, lay back, eat, sit up and burp himself afterward. Also, he was my first child, so the willingness to endure that seemed impossible. I am older and wiser now. Then Ella was born and the nursing struggle began like nobody's business. I had no idea nursing could be so PAINFUL. See, Paxton latched on within minutes of being born and loved the breast from that moment on. He never had a problem learning how to eat. His poor little sister was 2 whole pounds lighter and 3 whole inches shorter at birth and just couldn't get it down. We worked, we worked, and then we worked some more. I saw a lactation consultant three times, stripped Ella down, wore nipple Shields, pumped, massaged, expressed, got Mastitis twice, pumped some more and basically didn't leave the house for four months. Then the bomb dropped. I could no longer function and kept wondering why, depite the fact that, at 4 months, Ella had finally gotten this nursing thing down, I felt like absolute, scraping the bottom of the barrel, shit. I felt horrible. Then the hypothyroid diagnosis came, where we figured out that my levels were so high, my thyroid must have stopped working immediately after she was born. After seeing an internist ( who was nice, but highly unsupportive of me continuing to breastfeed) I decided to wean Ella. I cried. She didn't. The poor baby was probably blessed to have a happy mommy again and I guess it didn't diminish her brain capacity. But, damn it, she's allergic to peanuts and I can't help but believe that it's my fault. I could have at least supplemented and not weaned altogether, right?!

So, now comes number three. Mr. Shepherd was smaller than Ella! He was just over 6 pounds, two weeks early and spent the first six days of his life in the hospital with an I.V. in his head, in and out of an incubator and on and off oxygen. Man, what a way to come into the world. I worked with him as well, got mastitis, pumped, and prayed. This time, I prayed. A lot. It worked. I remembered what it was like with Ella and was so scared of that happening again ( eventhough the thyroid thing was being closely monitored and my blood was drawn every six weeks). Fear washed away after we got home and I realized that, like his big brother, he was going to love breasts. All was well. Then came our trip.

We took a trip to Nashville two months ago. My nipples were already a little sore from Shepherd having had a cold and nursing much more frequetly than I was used to. Then. Came. The Airplane. Whoa. Ouch. Between take-offs, landings, layovers, car rentals, and attempted dinners out, my poor milk producers took a beating. I recovered the best I could before our trip to California, where I had a feeling much of the same would occur. I was right. It was manageable, but it still left me in pain during each and every single feeding. So, now I am to the point where I look at the clock, take a deep breath say a prayer and undo my bra. :(

The pain during feeding would be bearable if I had a crystal ball and could see how much longer this was going to last, or if I knew with complete certainty that, the fact that my clenching, and gritting isn't affecting my milk supply and that is why my child has been screaming every time I put him down for two days now, I might just press on. But I think I have come to that point when I need to look at the situation for what it is; something that I have continued to do because I knew it was the best for Shepherd, something that I have continued to do despite the fact that it makes it impossible for me to lose any weight, I can't go anywhere alone for longer than three hours and I am constantly juggling feeding one child and making sure two others don't play with knives while my boobs are hanging out.

I think I might taper down to only nursing first thing in the morning and then once again right before his bedtime. This makes me so sad and I feel so torn. But, ultimately, I cannot keep fearing the clock, fearing a seven month old, taking the pain out on Steve and the kids because it's just getting too unbearable. And, yes, in case you were wondering...I have tried EVERYTHING. You name it, I've diagnosed it and treated myself for it. What? You detect defensiveness? Well, actually what you hear is guilt. I guess that might be because I feel as though I am in the process of failing my child, in the process of giving up, and I'm just not okay with that.