B.C (before children), i was never the kind to go ooh and aah over babies. Even when an impossibly cute specimen was hanging over my shoulder in the train, all i could manage was a smile or a polite pat on its hand, even while i knew that the mum was dying for me to ask some personal questions about her offspring just so that she could ply me with its latest anecdotes. No thanks, i would rather be listening to my music and escaping into my book.
Whenever i had to entertain a kid for more than a couple of minutes, my lame antics and silly noises would always be met with impassive, stony faces that conveyed the message that i was the greatest joke on earth. And i would be seriously wishing my friend/relative i.e the grimy kids' mum would quickly return or that the ground would swallow me up to save me from further embarassment.
And crying kids? They either gave me a headache or rendered me useless, and as such i avoided them like the plague.
While i was pregnant, i never felt that i was radiating femininity. While my friends waxed lyrical about how wonderful it felt and how miraculous it was to have a little being move inside you, all i felt were the longest 18months (2 pregnancies) of my life and i disliked the ungainly bump in front of me and the constraints it put on my active lifestyle.
6 years of marriage and 2 kids later, i am still learning how to be a mother. There are days i do give myself a pat on the back and there are days i wish i could kick myself. But through it all, there is one thing that i feel i have finally done well in - and that is breastfeeding Thane.
We battled countless problems together in the early days; latching issues, mastitis (3times), bleeding nipples, engorgement and yet we managed to overcome all of them. He has been a happy nurser for the past 9 months only to stop abruptly 4 nites ago cos i flicked his cheek in response to him biting hard.
This is not the first time ive done so as he has been biting pretty often enough, but this was the first time he looked at me with such hurt and betrayal in his eyes as he stopped nursing immediately, arched his back and pushed himself vehemently away from me.
Nursing strike - 2 cold clinical words that describe a baby's abrupt refusal to nurse.
Each time Thane draws away from me screaming his lungs out, I feel bereft; as if i am mourning the leaving of a loved one, as if im mourning my hold on mothering my baby. Mothering through breastfeeding is the only thing i know i am doing completely right and that nobody could fault, and if i cant nurse i feel useless, helpless, miserable and worst of all defeated.
I never thought i would finally come face to face with my maternal instincts in this manner. Yet through this nursing strike - these 2 simple, self explaining words have since shaken my entire life and soul and has made me feel like its the end of the world.
I have been trawling the net for information on how to deal with nursing strikes and have been trying to find success stories of mothers who have coaxed their babies back to the breast after a strike.
But all I have found are very factual advices about how to cope with nursing strikes (how do u spend skin to skin time when your baby keeps pushing himself away from you and crying himself hoarse??) but very few success stories about mothers who have actually survived a nursing strike and come out triumphant on the other side.
There is especially, a lack of stories about mums who reacted strongly when her child bit her, had the child gone on strike and emerged better off for it.
And so i shall chronicle Thane's nursing strike, firstly to remember these emotional days and also to provide hope and comfort to any other mum who would be as unfortunate as me to encounter this in her breastfeeding journey.
Maternal instinct? Guess i do have a smidgeon of it after all. But i wish i didnt have to realise it through this episode...
No comments:
Post a Comment