Nursing frankly hurts for the first two months, then it grows on me for about 3-4 months as I bond and spend time with the baby, and finally it becomes this strange battleground of constant distractions, biting, and flailing limbs. I do it because I feel like the pros outweigh the cons. I do it to know that not only did I give them life (as if that isn’t enough), I provided them with additional life support throughout their first year out of love and because I love to torture myself.
Last week Sawyer decided to opt out. He awoke a very drowsy mommy at 4 a.m. one morning with a solid bite of his little incisors. Nuh-uh. Not at 4 a.m. No way bud. Back to bed he went hollering at the top of his lungs. 7 a.m. rolled around and I cringed as I sat down to try and nurse again. The bite was purposeful and painful. I firmly said, “No!” and pulled him away from me.
We stared at each other, sizing each other up and trying to decide what was the next step.
“Maybe he has an earache on that side?” I thought.
Swapped sides.
He stared at me as if to say, “Are you sure you want to do this again?”
I shrugged.
“Your funeral lady.” Chomp.
Shocked, I yelled firmly, “No!”
Tears welled up in his eyes. I’m positive I heard him think, “What’s her problem?” Then the wailing began.
I busted out the formula which he promptly pushed away from him, until he figured out that the nipple on the bottle was pretty interesting. He played with it for a good 15 minutes, munching on it on different sides of his mouth, poking it with his fingers, and making it wiggle back and forth. I set him and the bottle on the floor and got to pumping.
8 a.m. Mommy’s liquid gold in a bottle. Surely this will hit the spot.
Not a chance.
10 a.m. rolls around and this little guy is so worked up that there is no way he won’t eat.
Hesitantly I pull out the goods.
In my sweetest mommy voice, “Here you go little guy. Yummy yummy.”
I swear, if a baby could roll his eyes, he did. Chomp!
Tears and a wail, from me this time. Didn’t God think ahead to make baby teeth dull instead of razor sharp for situations like this?
By the end of the day Sawyer had sipped down 3 ounces and was extremely hungry. I even got desperate and tried to feed him milk with a straw. We were up most of the night as I tried to get him to drink a little bit more out of the bottle. Finally I ended up pouring it into his mouth a few drops at a time. He was drenched but he drank at least 6 ounces that way.
The next morning and the morning after that it was more of the same. We were done. The nursing era with Sawyer had come to a decidedly painful end.
And before you call me to tell me how YOU successfully nursed 8 children while they bit and maimed you, just know that I’m not done torturing myself. I’m pumping. A little hand pump. In all my (*ahem*) spare time. And my carpal tunnel has come back.
But I’m sheepishly happy that we aren’t nursing anymore.
