I've blogged before about being bitten while breastfeeding (specificallly, being bitten by the baby), but I tell you now: I didn't know what boob pain was until I was bitten by a baby with both top and bottom teeth. It's like those things were made to cut meat apart or something.
So last night Nora chomped down, hard. I gibbered like a hyena, and for once she didn't laugh. This morning she nursed normally, but she hasn't nursed since then. After work she started to nibble on me, so I took her off the titmouse immediately and fed her some sweet potatoes instead. An hour later, I tried again. We gazed warily at each other across the knocker. She narrowed her eyes and declined. And declined again before bed, so I sadly made her a bottle.
I had only just started to muse about weaning. I never saw myself as one of those people who nurses so long the kid texts her friends in the middle of a breastfeeding session, but I thought it might be months yet before it was all over. What if this is it? It could be a "nursing strike," and we might go back to normal tomorrow, or not. This is probably one of those situations-- like taking her to daycare-- that's harder on me than it is on her. But I'm somewhat fearful that my sharp yowl last night traumatized her and scared her off. Anybody out there experience this?
So last night Nora chomped down, hard. I gibbered like a hyena, and for once she didn't laugh. This morning she nursed normally, but she hasn't nursed since then. After work she started to nibble on me, so I took her off the titmouse immediately and fed her some sweet potatoes instead. An hour later, I tried again. We gazed warily at each other across the knocker. She narrowed her eyes and declined. And declined again before bed, so I sadly made her a bottle.
I had only just started to muse about weaning. I never saw myself as one of those people who nurses so long the kid texts her friends in the middle of a breastfeeding session, but I thought it might be months yet before it was all over. What if this is it? It could be a "nursing strike," and we might go back to normal tomorrow, or not. This is probably one of those situations-- like taking her to daycare-- that's harder on me than it is on her. But I'm somewhat fearful that my sharp yowl last night traumatized her and scared her off. Anybody out there experience this?
8 comments:
This is a sweet picture, but I am having a hard time figuring out exactly what I am seeing.
I have very little to add here, aside from the fact that breastfeeding scares me way more than the birth experience.
Mom (er, "Anonymous"): That's Nora, your granddaughter, asleep in my lap on the boppy, as seen from Rich's side of the couch. That turquoise object is the beleaguered bazonga. See how sweetly she rests her sleeping hand upon it? It's all for show.
Sam: I don't really have any words of comfort for you. Breastfeeding starts out quite painful, then becomes normal if not 100% comfortable, and then is punctuated by sharp bursts of pain once the baby gets teeth.
Actually, I do have a few words of comfort, but they're probably not what you want to hear:
1) Breastfeeding teaches you to transcend pain. You don't want to clench up or send the baby anxious vibes, so you learn to breathe and relax your body even as one of the most sensitive parts of your body is being mashed to a pulp. That's a good skill to have, and one that yoga only hints at.
2) It honestly does get better. And all the platitudes about how close it makes you feel to your baby, and how comforting it is for both of you, are true.
3) The bottom teeth don't hurt so much. The baby's tongue covers them when she nurses, so biting only becomes a problem if she's just hanging out.
4) It makes you a bad-ass. Honestly. You feel like you've really paid your dues and can handle anything once you've accomplished breastfeeding. Like childbirth, it gives you horrifying stories you can share with other women who have gone through it (and some who haven't). And in this day and age, where so much of life is filtered through TV and civilization, there's something wonderful about experiencing life in its most basic and primal form.
I truly am glad I'm breastfeeding Nora-- I wouldn't have it any other way-- but make no mistake, it's not always a picnic.
This is a poignant entry. Our little Nora is growing up at warp speed, and I can't keep up. But don't base too much on one day. She will probably want to nurse again--maybe when the weather gets cool and she wants something warm. It may all be about her wanting a nice cool drink right now.
Libby still only has her bottom teeth, but she goes through little biting phases. She usually catches me off guard, when I'm totally relaxed and zoning before her bedtime, and I wince and cry out. Then she starts crying that mad, meltdown type of cry, and I end up comforting HER. Usually I can switch sides at that point and she starts nursing again. There's only been one night where we called it quits after she bit both sides. She seems to bite when my breast is empty and she starts playing around, and I suspect teething plays a role. Don't know if that's helpful or not, but that's my experience. It will be fine by me if she doesn't get those upper chompers any time soon!
After viewing this blog entry and the accompanying photo, I have to protest that the innocence pictured here could not do any of the violent acts you have ascribed to her. She is an angel.
Update: Yesterday morning she nursed as usual, but then in the evening she got very upset when I tried to nurse her. This morning, she nursed for a couple of minutes, bit me, and then got upset when I exclaimed. (You're right, Sarah, it's really a pisser that you end up apologizing to the baby for crying out when they bite you!). After that, she didn't want to nurse any more. Blurg.
Keep your fingers crossed, please: Today Nora nursed as usual. I think the key was dressing slutty and acting nonchalant.
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