Motherhood
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Thoughts about breastfeeding at 2:40 am in the morning

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It’s 2:40 am. We are visiting my parents at the moment. The flight yesterday went better than I expected. She slept for the entire time since we left home until I fed her at the airport once we landed. What an angel.

Everyone in the house is asleep apart from me. The baby is currently on my chest, probably her favourite spot in the entire world as of recently. She’s breathing regularly and has both her hands under her tiny chin. What a cutie. Except it takes me a minute to realise that, because I’m so exhausted from the constant breastfeeding. There’s not been a night over the past month and a half when I didn’t wish someone would help me to feed her. She’s exclusively breast fed which is supposed to be 1) the Best Thing in the world for a new baby 2) pain free 3) enjoyable. Well, in my case it’s not the latter two things and I can only hope it is the best thing for her and that she’s putting on enough weight. It’s probably my number one reason for why I both hate and love feeding my baby. Sometimes it’s so much more than just about nutrition. I love to hold her, smell her sweet milky breath, stroke her head as she feeds and admire her thigh rolls thinking ” I did this!”. But for every sweet and candid moment related to breastfeeding there are two moments of dreading the next feed due to exhaustion, pain and just feeling like my whole life is about sustaining this new little person who sometimes behaves like a bad new boyfriend: has poor hygiene, avoids conversation, screams a lot instead and has a weird obsession with my boobs.

My problem with EBF is that it’s so isolating. I spend hours a day feeding the baby, sat on a couch often balancing my iPod (or a plate with whatever I’m eating at the time) on her back looking for some entertainment since daytime human interaction consists talking in a highly pitched voice at a tiny face of a person who responds in cries, hiccups and farts. There is some singing involved too, also one sided as she’s not keen to join in yet. At least my version of the Big Red Bus is almost perfect now. I especially enjoy the “Ferrari! Ferrari!” part and flopping my hair backwards. As you do.

So yeah, breastfeeding is hard work. It’s sore and lonely and occasionally makes me feel like my body isn’t my own anymore. This blog post doesn’t have a wiser or more sparkly conclusion I’m afraid. I’m going to try and put the baby down now. Wish me luck.

PS. Who are those mothers who say they love every single minute of motherhood?

 

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Nazywam się Małgosia Frej i piszę blog o życiu: moim i świata, który mnie otacza. Moje wpisy to głównie reportaże z podróży, przemyślenia na tematym które mnie poruszają oraz wycinki z mojego życia i pracy jako młody lekarz w Szkocji.

  • http://www.shuttersandletters.co.uk Gwen – Shutters and Letters

    I’ve said it before but I’ve said it again – I am so impressed by how honest you are being.