Maisie reached a small but significant milestone this morning - she had some water from a sippy cup with her lunch. She was so excited to see this new toy, she grabbed it with glee and admittedly, most of it went straight down her front. But this tiny sip of water signified for me yet another step away from babyhood and breastfeeding, a move which you know I am not at all prepared for!
Breastfeeding is an extremely emotional, divisive aspect of motherhood, of which I have experienced all manner of highs and lows. I hate the way people make judgements about mothers based on whether they provide nourishment through a breast or a bottle. I have done both, and been censured by strangers in both instances. When Jack was born I knew very little about breastfeeding, only that I wanted to try it. I was extraordinarily lucky that Jack fed quite well from the beginning, however I still had to supplement feed him from a bottle to treat his jaundice. I also had no idea that he wasn't attaching properly until a nurse told me at the 2 week check-up that toe-curling agony was not normal or acceptable. Thank goodness for her!!! Jack fed brilliantly (and greedily) until he was ten months old, when he weaned himself quite dramatically and I discovered I was pregnant with Phoebe!
After such a successful breastfeeding relationship with Jack, the nurses in hospital assumed I knew what I was doing when Phoebe was born. That may have been the case, however poor little newborn Phoebe had never breastfed before. We were sent home way too early, and by the time she was five days old, I had been massacred in the mammary region (to be perfectly truthful!) and my darling baby was starving. (Actually, a visiting midwife told me "You're starving that baby", which as you can imagine was music to the ears of a post-partum woman) We battled it out for six weeks, until a very kind midwife told me I would never be able to breastfeed again if I persevered, so great was the damage. Phoebe had formula from that point on, and despite my massive mother-guilt, appears to have been unaffected by the experience. If anything, she is an exceptionally affectionate little girl, so we must have done something right during those bottle feeds!!
When I was pregnant with Maisie, I visited lactation consultants and midwives in the hospital in an attempt to be prepared (psychologically, if not physically!!) I knew that successful breastfeeding ultimately came down to my ability to produce milk, and Maisie's ability to attach properly, but I was not leaving anything to chance! As it happened, Maisie fed extremely well, especially considering she spent her first 24 hours in special care (and not "bonding" with me immediately after birth - more mother-guilt!!) One of the bonuses of getting septicaemia when Maisie was ten days old (yes, I know the bonuses are few and far between, but hey - I'm a glass-half-full kinda person!!) was that I had another week in hospital with midwives and lactation consultants who ensured she was feeding perfectly. (We won't mention the huge doses of morphine she was also ingesting through my breastmilk...) I must say Maisie has been a dream to breastfeed, and I know that this is not something to be sneezed at. Being my last baby, I have relished feeding her to sleep (even though I know it's naughty), watching her little eyelids get heavy, and her breathing become slow and deep.Her creamy, plump little hand starts every feed by grabbing my top, and gradually starts patting me, before curling into a tiny fist and snuggling into my skin. I love the half-smiles I get when she's halfway through a hungry feed, and she looks up at me as though we're sharing a private joke. I don't particularly love the nips I have received of late, but it's very hard to be cross when she snorts with laughter and then dives back for more.
So what did Maisie's triumphant drink from a sippy cup mean to me today? That my baby is happy and proud to be mastering new skills, and is one step closer to independence. That she is developing the way babies are supposed to, and that I am grateful for having a healthy, alert, enthusiastic baby. But just between you and me, I won't be in any hurry to wean her off the bedtime feeds. I'm going to be making the most of those late night snuggles while I can, even if it means the temporary decline of my social life (oh, who am I kidding?? My social life has been pushing up daisies for some time now!) And even though I know that sooner or later my bubby won't need me for her nourishment, at least I will still enjoy those delicious baby cuddles for a little while yet (at least until she's 21, right??)
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