An article I wrote on breastfeeding.

I was 20 years old when my first baby was born. After an unexpected and rapid delivery my newborn boy was laid on my stomach, all fresh and covered in goop and blood. It was the most amazing event that I had ever experienced up to that point in my life. Being so young and inexperienced I couldn’t imagine how drastically my life had changed in that one moment. A living, breathing, blinking newborn had been created, nurtured, nourished and loved inside my body. We traversed through our first experience of timing contractions, vomiting through labor, waiting through triage at the hospital, standing in a shower while the pain throbbed down my back and legs. All of the chaos and uncertainty drained away as that little person was laid peacefully on my belly, which was now deflated and soft. I had no concern for my misshapen body or my tired soul. All I wanted was to stare at my baby boy and think of what an awesome person I was. I was not thinking of the word awesome in the way young people use the word. I was in awe at what a woman’s body, what my body was capable of.

We named our first born son, Jason, a family name. My little Jason. With his arms and legs curled into himself and his loose head struggling to find my face. We locked eyes and became entranced in each other. I was no longer in an institutional bed or even in that hospital room. I was alone with my baby, my little Jason. We were alone in our love for one another. I held Jason close and he immediately inhaled the smell of my skin and wrote it in his memory. I turned his belly to press against my own belly and hoped that we would know what to do. I prayed that our instincts would kick in. I prayed that this little person who knew nothing of this world would know how to get the nourishment out of my inexperienced breasts. I took comfort in that moment of peace and strength when our eyes were locked. If we could bond so quickly, surely we could master the art of breastfeeding.

Jason proceeded to nurse for more than an hour and fell fast asleep for the next 15 hours. I worried all night that he was sick. I worried that he wasn’t going to wake up and felt his chest rise and fall to comfort me. I shouldn’t have worried because he hasn’t slept that long in the nine years since.

I have been blessed with four fresh babies covered in what I now know is vernix and I have had that same moment of peace and strength with each of them. I have sniffed their new skin and inhaled their scent so it could stay etched in my own memory.

I never understood the feeling of pain that comes with severe engorgement or the frustration of breastfeeding taking too long to start. All of that ended when I had Laurelyn. My sweet Laurelyn. My baby born without institutional beds or hospital beds. My baby born into my own arms with a midwife watching supportively. My baby that gave me the birth I had always dreamed of.

I labored with Laurelyn in a warm tub of water while the cool breeze through the window brought respite from the heat of contractions. The water made it possible to enjoy the experience and focus on my body, the muscles and the miracle happening inside me instead of focusing on pain. I silently spoke to my little girl, encouraging her to come to me. I concentrated on relaxing my body and reassuring my spirit that I could do this. I could bring this baby out of my body and into my arms.

Once again I had a fast labor, one hour long, and I was grateful to my midwife for helping me prepare once more to give birth. I felt my body contract and my muscles pushing. My midwife encouraged me to feel for her head and I will never forget that moment. Realizing that my baby was coming not because I was told or because the monitor said so but because I could feel her hair swim between my fingers. I could outline her ears and feel the smoothness of her skin. She was perfect before I even saw her. I will always be in awe at what a woman’s body can do. What my body can do.

What my body will never do again.

I caught Laurelyn in my next contraction and pulled her against me to stay warm. She was quiet and alert. There was no need to hurry or move or disengage from being entwined in the water. Later we would get out of the water. Eventually I birthed my placenta and ended in the hospital again but this time to have a D&C to remove a lodged piece of placenta.

I don’t remember nursing Laurelyn before we left in an ambulance to the hospital but I remember the next morning feeling heavy with milk. My breasts were too full to fit in her tiny mouth and too painful to feel any relief from the tiny amount she was drinking. I was engorged and beyond uncomfortable. My nipples were raw from the strain and my back ached from the weight. The worst though was knowing that the solution was to nurse but not being able to accomplish nursing because I was drowning my baby in a sea of milk. My husband ran out to buy a breast pump and I cried in the shower and prayed that eventually my body would balance and everything would stop hurting. I couldn’t focus on anything but my breasts and the milk that was supposedly the miracle of life, which felt like it was killing me at that moment.

I tried to remember everything I learned from the nurses when I had my first baby.

Chest to chest, nose to breast.

I tried to coax my newborn to open her mouth wide enough to latch properly. I spent hours training Laurelyn and myself to remember proper latching, to remember to keep her tiny tongue underneath my nipple and to nurse as often as possible to relieve the pressure from my milk coming in.

It took a couple days, several hot showers, some hand expressing and time but eventually we got into a routine of nursing when she was hungry or tired. I nursed her when I wanted snuggle time and I nursed her while I laid on my side and slept during those first sleep deprived months.

When Laurelyn was four months old we took her to a wedding in France. She got to tag along because she was too young to be left behind. I discovered that I love breastfeeding in Europe. I nursed on the plane to Paris, at a restaurant in Mont de Marsan, and in a baby’s lounge at a wedding. The baby’s lounge came complete with play pens, lounge beds for the mothers, french lullabies and rocking chairs. I watched the bride pull down the top of her sleeveless wedding dress so she could nurse her four month old while the wedding guests continued to take pictures with the tiny baby snuggled into her mother’s wedding dress.

I have seen women nurse in public back home but this was without an attempt to cover up and with no thought to being modest. As far as anyone else was concerned the baby’s need for nourishment came before modesty. This was nothing more than a mother caring for her baby.

My baby is now fourteen months old and I am still nursing her several times a day and before bed. I can’t tell you how often I nurse because I still nurse her when she wants to. I am not concerned with scheduling her feedings or monitoring how often she nurses. Laurelyn is walking now, says a few words and climbs on everything. She loves to eat anything we eat and can out eat most of us on her good days but she still crawls into my lap and snuggles into my belly which is this fourteen month old’s way of asking to nurse.

I’m starting to get questions from friends about how long I plan on breastfeeding. In fact I had one friend, a nurse, urge me to stop because I am being drained of all my calcium which is why it’s not healthy to nurse for too long.

I breastfed my first three kids until they were 12 months and I’ve already passed that deadline. I can now stop breastfeeding and feel like I can join the ranks of breastfeeding mothers everywhere. I’m not in any rush to stop nursing right now. She’s still a baby! She’s still mastering the art of walking without needing her arms in the air for balance. She’s still crying instead of telling me what she wants because she can’t speak. She’s still needing her mom to snuggle and nurse her before bed.

She’s still needing me.

I’ll stop breastfeeding her eventually and I’m sure she’ll let me know when that time comes. Until then I am going to hold her close and enjoy ever last second I have with her before she decides she doesn’t need to nurse any more.