I am by far a butt gal. I have always have felt so much more comfortable about my backside than my topside. Must have been all of the 'flat' jokes in my formidable middle school years that tainted me from forever feeling comfortable about my girls. I have been quite evasive of bringing them around as I would rather house them in a sports bra than find those spectacular uplift crane bras at Vic's. Hell, I lived in Spain during the summer months and was obviously American with my string top still attached. I had heard that when you become a mom, then you really don't care who looks at what on you, especially after sharing your privates with about 2 doctors and 5 nurses for 3 days. But as the time came for me to perform my greatest feat with the twins, I felt I had to shoo everyone out of the room, almost my husband and the lactation nurse as well. (which needless to say, she manhandled me and got the baby correctly positioned) I am just a bit shy when it comes to that part of the body.
Well not so much anymore. We have been hitting some, pardon the expression, speed bumps in the great tide of lactation and I have now had conversations about my breasts and their goings ons with friends and perfect strangers. My little piglet is becoming of an age where he is highly distracted and even more impatient. He used to hang out for hours at the buffet, lazily drinking. Now he guzzles it down like I am beer bong and screams as if the keg has run dry as he doesn't want to keep up the act to keep the slower flow moo coming along. That and every little thing has him popping off the boob to look at the computer, swat at my cereal, and make smiling eyes at his momma. Enough already!
The number one rule to success in nursing (see I cant even call it breastfeeding, just sounds gross) is to have a solid support system (once again, no pun intended). I am lucky to have two good friends who are staunch believers in nursing and are there for me to call when small crisis's arise. So I naturally call them up as I am starting to believe that this child will wither away to nothing as he is not getting enough milk and I am questioning my strength as a provider. I have never been one to pick up the phone and call a friend about an odd itch I am having or that my PMS is killing me, just not the kind of info I feel that one needs to share. But here I am, describing nipple placement, letdown, and nursing positions with my friends and even gals I have just met at a stroller aerobics class. This is also coupled as the same gal who used to hide under the sheets to nurse her baby in her own house that will now whip it out in front of the in-laws and at the mall, albeit under a convenient nursing cover.
I am glad that I did open up as I was able to get some pointers from friends who had been in the trenches before me. Seems that I needed to take him away from distracting situations in the evenings where he has the most trouble eating. Well, duh, that seems easy enough. Oh, and pump more. If you have pumped before, then you can easily relate to how much of a joy that is to do. I feel like a dairy cow, chained up to the trough, attached to some vuvuzela looking contraption that is literally sucking the life out of me. And it takes at least 20-30 mins to do. Such a wicked cycle it all is. As to make more milk you have to pump more to tell the body to hook it up. So on top of the already 4+ hours of nursing I do a day, I have to add 2-3 more pumping sessions. Just when I thought that lengthier showers were in my future.
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