Breast is Best

I know that this picture of baby sleeping is just totally fascinating to everyone. I really can't believe myself. I am suddenly sending out pictures similar to this to friends and family on a daily basis assuming that they are as interested in watching Quinn sleep, eat and have occasional "eyes wide open" moments as I am. I am so boring these days. I have nothing else to blog because I have become so uninteresting. Except maybe how annoying breast feeding is. I can do a post on that. Okay I will.

Actually, the feeding is going pretty well for the most part. He is now got the "latch" down, and I am less stressed about how much he gets with each feeding now that the all important birth weight is regained.

On day three of his life, we ended up meeting with a breast feeding consultant because so much of my milk came in that I was totally engorged, and the poor kid was bouncing off my boobs. I was so tender, it hurt just to touch the skin, and my nipples were sore and bleeding due to the multiple vigorous attempts by the boy to work it out. I ended up renaming the lactation consultant "Jesus" because I decided after meeting with her that she is my personal savior. In many black humor moments after that meeting, I could be seen tearily attempting to feed him at 4am crying, "What would Jesus do?" Even my husband started many sentences with "Jesus said...." (BTW, I really hope I am not offending anyone. This kind of humor is how I get by sometimes, and I totally respect peoples beliefs and don't mean to make light of, or make fun of a true belief system.)

All seems to have improved greatly. But here's is my gripe: I feel like I am supposed to LOVE breastfeeding. You know the whole "bonding" thing, like it is this beautiful moment between me and the kid where we connect. People swear I will get there, but right now? Now I still gear up for each feeding (How's it going to go? Will he latch? Will he get enough?Did he get too much? Will he burp?) . I am so relieved afterwards that it is over and that I get nearly 3 hours before doing it again. I admit it, I DREAD feeding. There. I said it. And I feel ashamed about it. I can be pretty hard on myself (like I also have this voice in the back of my head saying, “are you kidding me?! You are posting about breast feeding and baby pictures? You have become a cliché!”), so any societal judgment will definitely get filtered in my neurotic brain. Welcome to the new me—you might recognize me from previous hyper-anxious bed rest posts:)