Angela had mentioned to me that one of her friends refers to breast milk as white gold. Now that I've begun pumping my breast milk, I've begun to refer to it in the same way and, let me tell you, I've become absolutely obsessed with my white gold. I obsess over calculating how to obtain a goodly amount for freezer storage for when I go back to work and when, one of these days, we're lucky enough to have a couple of hours out by ourselves and have someone else watch the lad. I obsess over how I'll be able to keep my supply up when his appetite increases. I obsess over how much Asher eats when I nurse him. It's lovely when I pump because I can see exactly how much milk my body has readily available at different intervals of the day and I can see exactly how much food he's getting. When I nurse, I have no way of knowing if he's getting enough to eat. Especially when he behaves like a crazed lunatic. That's right: I called my baby a lunatic.
I don't know what his problem is lately, but in the past week or two, Asher has begun doing this horrible, horrible thing toward the end of eating. He'll start grunting, his face will get beet red, he'll start groping my boobs with his tiny yet sharp CLAWS, and then will clench down with his gummy jaws of steel, rear his head back, and jerk it from side to side. Think of a puppy playing tug of war with it's owner. Asher treats my nipples like they're chew toys. It's possible he's pooping, or has gas, or is feeling that reflex I've read about in which newborns' digestive tract kicks into motion once they begin eating which sometimes causes discomfort, or maybe he has acid reflux or some other digestive issue he can't tell me about. I think this is definitely something I need to discuss with his pediatrician on Monday afternoon at his one month checkup. For one, is this normal? Two, is there something I can do other than throwing out F-Bombs at an innocent baby? Then, to top it off, I finally break the latch (which is difficult because his jaws are STRONG!) and try to establish a new latch. He acts as if he's finished eating, refusing to take any more Boob. I put The Boob away and we go about doing something else. Five minutes later? He's fussy, mad, and rooting around - HE'S STILL FREAKIN' HUNGRY after all. We've been known to play this game for an hour at a time and, let me tell you, it's exhausting. Especially when you know he'll want to play the game in another hour or two - which means I could potentially spend approximately half my time in the trenches with Asher. Yes, sadly, I sometimes feel as if during nursing my son is at war with me. Or, at least at war with my boobs.
I have to admit, pumping my breast milk and feeding Asher via bottle is, right now, a much, much more pleasant method of feeding than nursing. I'm very disappointed about this - I really do want to enjoy breastfeeding, and there for awhile it seemed like we were really getting into the groove of it together. Now, however, he causes me pain at the end and seems unsatisfied - probably because I end the feeding session due to his lack of ability to treat The Goods with respect and care. Pumping and bottle-feeding takes us either the same amount of time, or often less time, as nursing. It's pain-free. It's struggle-free for both of us. I can give the bottle to someone else and let them share in the pleasure of feeding him. Stephen and others I've discussed this with think I should just strictly pump and bottle-feed instead of nursing because, hey - why not? Both Asher and I will still get the benefits of nursing without the discomfort and struggle.
So why do I feel like a bad mother for considering this option? He really doesn't seem to show a preference between the bottle and the breast, so I shouldn't feel as if I'm taking something away from him. But for some reason I do feel that way - I worry he'll develop some sort of Freudian boob complex because I couldn't sack up and deliver his nourishment the proper way. Even more than that, I feel like this is the first time in his life that I may have to tell him "NO" and set boundaries - and it's really difficult, especially when he's only a month old. However, as much as I love my child with every ounce of my being, I am NOT a chew toy and cannot allow him to turn my bosoms into raw hamburger. That's just not going to do either of us any good, for I worry if this continues I'll get frustrated and give up on breastfeeding altogether. For as convenient as pumping is, how incredibly easy it would be, though expensive, to just have cabinets of that pre-made formula on hand!
I just pray he'll develop more consideration toward and coordination with "mommy parts" by the time he's seriously dating. Or maybe not. If he were to keep this behavior up, it would be a good way to ensure he wouldn't be getting much action.
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Sleep, sleep, sleep! Stephen is going to absolutely kill me for writing this entry, because it seems like every time I brag about how well Asher is doing with something he turns around and proves me wrong. But I'm going to brag anyway. Because really, how often do I get a chance to brag?
