So I breastfed Ian for the first time in public yesterday. I must say it was a bit of a humbling experience. I am not a shy person (or a very modest one) by any stretch of the imagination, but I was surprised to find that I was nervous about peeling off my top in a restaurant. Before I had Ian, I had always said that I would have no problem breastfeeding in public, and I have to admit to being a bit judgmental about those that were shy. But, like many things, it's completely different in reality. I wasn't concerned so much about exposing myself, but I was a bit worried that someone would say something negative. I had a receiving blanket to cover up, and I kept checking to make sure it was in place. Of course it was a bit of a juggle to get Ian latched while keeping the blanket in place, and then to hold him up without a pillow. I ended up propping him against the table! Ian, bless his soul, was completely unaware that anything different was going on, and ate his lunch like a pro.
I'm sure it's one of those things that will get easier with time. I bet after a couple more outings, I'll just whip those puppies out whenever Ian get hungry. But now that I've experienced public breastfeeding, I will definitely be more sympathetic when another mother expresses concern about it.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Friday, June 08, 2007
My New Arrival
I would like to announce the new arrival of my son (how weird to say that!),Ian Alan Overall, born May 27, 2007 at 11:17 am. Weight 2385 g (5 lb, 4 oz.). It's hard to believe that I've been home from the hospital for more than a week, and Ian's almost two weeks old. I promise to post his birth story soon (just a warning, though, it's a long story). In the meantime, let me say that we are both doing very well. Ian is breastfeeding like a pro and is quickly catching up in weight, which is a huge relief since he was born so small, and at his check-up and weigh-in last Monday, he had only gained a very modest 15 g, since we were discharged from the hospital the previous Thursday.
Since we got home, Ian took to breastfeeding like a fish to water, so I didn't supplement with formula like I was told (anyone who knows me knows my general feelings about formula; in short, I hate it). He slept well, woke up on his own every 2-3 hours, and had a wet and/or dirty diaper when I changed it after every feeding. Those first days home we settled into a routine: feed, diaper change, sleep, repeat. It wan't exciting, but we had more than enough excitement for a long time. Best of all, I got to hold Ian all the time, and I felt like I was getting the hang of this parenting thing.
When we went to the doctor's that Monday, I was sure he would have put on weight. When he put on such a small amount of weight, I was disappointed, but more than that, I thought I was failing as a mother. I have never felt so incompetent in my life, not even when nursing school was at its worst. The words "failure to thrive" were like an invisible neon sign in front of me, and I had visions of Ian being taken back to the special care nursery and hooked up to IV's and feeding tubes. I know it sounds overdramatic, but I cannot describe the devastation I felt. Compounding it was the fact that the doctor told me to only breastfeed for 10 minutes at at time because it was too tiring for him, and to supplement the rest of the feed with either formula or expressed breastmilk. I left the office in tears, and spent most of the rest of that afternoon crying. I didn't want to have to breastfeed and pump, bacause it was time-consuming and physically exhausting, but I refused to give Ian formula. So, with a feeling of resignation, I rented a breastpump, and started pumping after each feed during the day. I still fed Ian on the breast as long as he wanted, though. I did a bunch of Internet research and found nothing to indicate that breastfeeding was more tiring than botttlefeeding. In fact, the La Leche League site stated that bottlefeeding was more stressful.
The next day, I did more of the same. I talked to my mom, who was wonderfully indignant about what the doctor said, and, more importantly, told me I was doing a good job. I really needed to hear some words of encouragement. John, of course told me I was an excellent mother, but it was good to hear it from someone else. By Wednesday afternoon, when the public health nursse came to visit, I was shaking. She brought a scale with her, so I could see if Ian had put on any weight. Imagine my surprise and delight that he put on 85 g! The expected weight gain for a normal newborn is 15 to 30 g per day, so this was more than I could have hoped for; I actually did a happy dance! It also really made me feel that my decision to breastfeed was the right one. Finally, I could trust my own judgment again.
Today I went to the doctor's and Ian's put on another 55 g. I didn't tell the doctor that I haven't pumped since Wednesday and Ian breastfeeds as long as he wants; that's my little secret. I have another appointment next week; I expect Ian will continue to thrive and grow. In the meantime, I'll continue to enjoy every minute with my little angel. And I'll trust in my own ability to do what's right for myself and my family.
Since we got home, Ian took to breastfeeding like a fish to water, so I didn't supplement with formula like I was told (anyone who knows me knows my general feelings about formula; in short, I hate it). He slept well, woke up on his own every 2-3 hours, and had a wet and/or dirty diaper when I changed it after every feeding. Those first days home we settled into a routine: feed, diaper change, sleep, repeat. It wan't exciting, but we had more than enough excitement for a long time. Best of all, I got to hold Ian all the time, and I felt like I was getting the hang of this parenting thing.
When we went to the doctor's that Monday, I was sure he would have put on weight. When he put on such a small amount of weight, I was disappointed, but more than that, I thought I was failing as a mother. I have never felt so incompetent in my life, not even when nursing school was at its worst. The words "failure to thrive" were like an invisible neon sign in front of me, and I had visions of Ian being taken back to the special care nursery and hooked up to IV's and feeding tubes. I know it sounds overdramatic, but I cannot describe the devastation I felt. Compounding it was the fact that the doctor told me to only breastfeed for 10 minutes at at time because it was too tiring for him, and to supplement the rest of the feed with either formula or expressed breastmilk. I left the office in tears, and spent most of the rest of that afternoon crying. I didn't want to have to breastfeed and pump, bacause it was time-consuming and physically exhausting, but I refused to give Ian formula. So, with a feeling of resignation, I rented a breastpump, and started pumping after each feed during the day. I still fed Ian on the breast as long as he wanted, though. I did a bunch of Internet research and found nothing to indicate that breastfeeding was more tiring than botttlefeeding. In fact, the La Leche League site stated that bottlefeeding was more stressful.
The next day, I did more of the same. I talked to my mom, who was wonderfully indignant about what the doctor said, and, more importantly, told me I was doing a good job. I really needed to hear some words of encouragement. John, of course told me I was an excellent mother, but it was good to hear it from someone else. By Wednesday afternoon, when the public health nursse came to visit, I was shaking. She brought a scale with her, so I could see if Ian had put on any weight. Imagine my surprise and delight that he put on 85 g! The expected weight gain for a normal newborn is 15 to 30 g per day, so this was more than I could have hoped for; I actually did a happy dance! It also really made me feel that my decision to breastfeed was the right one. Finally, I could trust my own judgment again.
Today I went to the doctor's and Ian's put on another 55 g. I didn't tell the doctor that I haven't pumped since Wednesday and Ian breastfeeds as long as he wants; that's my little secret. I have another appointment next week; I expect Ian will continue to thrive and grow. In the meantime, I'll continue to enjoy every minute with my little angel. And I'll trust in my own ability to do what's right for myself and my family.
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