Breastfeeding on Demand
By Lisa A. Goldstein
“Not again,” I think as I grab my Boppy and settle in for what feels like the umpteenth time that day to nurse. At seven months, I didn’t expect to be breastfeeding every two to three hours during the day. I guess it’s the trade off for 10 1/2 hours of uninterrupted night’s sleep, though it’s one I’d choose in a second.
So why – when I know nursing is the best thing I can do for my daughter – do I always feel a surge of resentment when I’m forced to drop everything to open the diner?
“Breastfeeding, I’ve determined, is also Baby’s gift to me.”
But as I settle in and make myself comfortable, my frustration fades. I’m able to ease my child’s hunger simply by offering her part of myself. I picture the alternative and shake the image away as I realize this is infinitely easier.
Breastfeeding, I’ve determined, is also Baby’s gift to me. “Sit down and relax,” she seems to be saying. “Take advantage of this time.”
The hectic pace of being a mother, and a new one at that, can be draining. So while I’m literally draining myself, I’m replenishing my soul by taking a rest.
While I’ve been known to nod off while nursing, I typically have other options at my disposal. Talking on the phone would be perfect – I’d get lots done that way – but it would only be a one-way conversation for me as I’m deaf. Perhaps it’s just as well, as I’d be trying to squeeze in business calls along with personal ones. That’d sort of defeat the purpose, I think.
Instead, I plant myself in front of a television with reading material at arm’s reach. Depending on my mood and what’s on at the time, I’ll choose one over the other. When it’s time to switch sides, I merely transfer the remote and whatever I’m reading to the opposite side. That way I can easily get to each without having to disturb my daughter’s concentration.
Now that my little princess is at an age where she’s easily distracted, though, it’s becoming harder to catch up on my magazines. A closed captioned television with the volume off sometimes does the trick.
One of my friends actually chose less convenient tasks when nursing, including talking to me on Instant Messenger while breastfeeding. She’d type “one hand” to alert me that she was typing with just one hand as she nursed. This same friend used to take advantage of this time to feed herself as well, balancing a plate on her daughter’s shoulder and side.
Whichever way we choose to amuse ourselves, the very nature of breastfeeding means relinquishing control on several levels. For someone like me who has a Type A personality, this is a good thing. I’ve lost track of how many occasions I’ve thought to myself, “I could get used to this,” as I re-immerse myself in the fine art of relaxation. And what better way to relax than with my daughter as she fills her body with the sustenance of milk and loving-kindness?
Breastfeeding fosters a bond between us that can’t exist with anyone else. When my husband bottle-feeds her, she’s very distracted and moves around a lot. He’s often at his wits end by the time he’s done. Besides, anyone can give her a bottle. I’m the only one who can give her mother’s milk.
When I stop nursing, I’ll no longer have this type of closeness with my daughter. As I put down the Boppy at the end of the feeding session, I look at my glowing child and smile. My restaurant’s open anytime.
