Tuning out the noise.

Last week kind of sucked.  Last weekend, actually.

My mom was visiting from out west and we had a fight.

Nate wasn’t nursing in his usual way and even refused at one point Sunday night, a first for him.  He fussed, he cried, he yelled, I cried.  Then I tried to pump.  And nothing came.  And I cried some more.  I was convinced our beautiful nursing relationship, that once was so lovely, so easy, so everything I’d hoped it would be, was over.  I imagined I’d have to feed him formula and hated the very thought.  I called my step-mom (she is a nurse) to talk about it, and she wasn’t home, so I bawled in my poor Dad’s ear.  My poor, wonderful Dad who listens to me talk about breastfeeding, never seems awkward when I feed Nate at their house, lets me talk about latching and pumping and let-down without batting an eyelash.

Nate nursed just fine later that night.  I was overtired and overwhelmed and the anxiety from the scene with my mom was interfering with the normal functioning of things.  I think Nate might even have been picking up on my anxiety.

Monday morning, though, I was on a mission to get help.   I called our doctor.  I called the breastfeeding support group here in my municipality and got an appointment made to bring Nate in to see them.  Things got better.  What a difference a day can make!   I did some block feeding on Monday, and kept a little log of how things were going.  By Friday, when it was time to visit the lactation consultant, I felt a little foolish even being there.

The woman I spent time with there was so nice, so supportive and warm.  She said we were doing beautifully.  Said Nate was doing great.  He’s healthy, happy, gaining weight…I basically just needed some encouragement.  She said that’s okay.  That’s just one of the reasons they are there in the community.   “Amy,” she said, “You are EXCLUSIVELY BREASTFEEDING YOUR BABY.”  (That’s how she said it, as though she was speaking in capital letters.)  That sentence has struck me several times since Friday.  It’s pretty awesome that all of Nate’s nutrition is coming directly from me.

I told the lactation consultant that I had been reading too much.  “The internet is a blessing and a curse,” I confided to her.  She agreed.  “You don’t need to read anymore,” she told me.  “You know your baby.  You’re doing fine.”

My mission since then has been to tune out the noise, to avoid the websites, the forums, the over-information that is out there.  I’m tuning it all out and tuning into Nate.  I’m trying to avoid looking at the clock all day long and instead focusing on him and his cues.  I can tell when he’s hungry, when he’s tired, when he’s interested in playing and having fun and moving around.  I’m getting to know him and I’m getting to know myself.  I don’t need the books and the internet to tell me how to be a mom.