I did it. And I'm proud of it. Born with a healthy set of jugs, bazookas, airbags, baps, boobies, whatever you call them (for the record, mine will always be 'boobs') I knew that once I eventually fell pregnant I'd do my damnedest to give my child the best start in life. Breast is best. My mum told me that AND it's a medical fact. She told me one day after I caught sight of my little brother hanging off her left one. He was 10 months at the time and I was an inquisitive five year old with a growing brain and a freshly developed and absorbent conscious.
Thirty years later and as soon as I found out I was pregnant my boobs sprang to life. My 36Cs felt more like 36DDs and I had a sudden urge to eat grass and moo, nah kidding but I did see the changes in body shape rather quickly. "There" my mum said when she first clapped eyes on my pregnant shape, "You were made to have a baby, Hev". Thanks Mum. The seven years trying was to perfect it, right?
The months that followed included a disappointing trip to a certain store that, without wanting to name, cares for mothers. What started off as an exciting first maternity purchase turned in to an uncomfortable and very bouncy journey home. Telling a 1st-trimester first-time mother that her back had grown 4 inches did nothing for my self esteem, what with the raging hormones and lack of underwire. Having done some research online I discovered the wonderful Bravissimo. (Click here to view their Maternity range and fitting video)
I was able to book an appointment at their rather plush Covent Garden branch and have the correct measuring service. In the flush of first pregnancy I departed the shop with a bulging bag of beautiful lingerie, a well-fitted bra and the knowledge that in fact my back size wasn't that of an amateur wrestler but rather a rounded-down 34. My boobs? Already a D cup, with 6 months to go. Gulp.
Due to health issues I was booked in for a C-section two weeks before my due date. By this time everyone, including myself thought I was having twins. My bump was huge and my boobs weren't far behind. When my beautiful miracle arrived I was rushed off to the recovery suite (sounds far grander than it was, trust me) and I was told to put baby straight on to my chest. She wouldn't want to feed but it was important for all babies to have skin-to-skin contact: keeps them calm, warm and steadies their breathing. It also reminds your body to produce plenty of milk. The body is amazing.
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| Skin-to-skin contact, although I'm clearly away with the fairies |
For the first couple of days I was very nervous. Show me a new mum who isn't. My boobs felt a little achey but as my baby was 2 weeks early the midwife had said that my milk may not be ready. Nevertheless, I was encouraged by the midwives on the ward to feed as soon as I felt up to it. The first night was horrendous. I had a 7lb ball of soft and helpless sleepiness in my arms, I'd not slept and couldn't move well and I JUST KEPT GETTING IT WRONG. It's all about position. And your state of mind. I'm not the most patient of people so I was getting very frustrated. I swapped chairs. I put pillows under baby, under me, behind me. I sat up straight, I sat sideways. My nipple bleeding and bruised, I bawled my eyes out. I sat for an hour, feeling lonely and scared.
I gave in. There's no handbook. And eventually, tentatively approached one of the less severe-looking midwifes and asked if I could have some Formula. It was like the gruel scene from Oliver Twist. She gave me the most withering of looks and I was made to feel like a disgusting individual. The midwives appeared to be very, very anti-Formula. So much so that the milk was kept in a locked cupboard with not every member of staff allowed access. This from a ward that allowed freshly birthed mothers to go out for a cigarette in blood stained gowns. Nice.
After a couple of very tiring and upsetting days we cracked it. Me and my little team member worked it out. Relax. Take your time. Position both of you correctly. And 'woosh'. Mother Nature working as it should be. I drank more water than when I did that 10k in the hottest July on record and had a face the colour of beetroot. But it worked. The more baby drinks, the more mummy drinks. The more mummy drinks, the more baby drinks. Clever isn't it?
Back home and it was so much more relaxing than hospital so baby and I had a lovely routine. The body is a marvellous piece of kit; I was recovering from a major op yet still my boobs were full to the brim. A form of elation washing over me every time my girl latched on. I could sit for hours on our bed, baby against me falling asleep, nay literally dropping off my nipple. The best way to recover from a c-section is to feed your baby. I was lucky enough to have a bountiful supply of milk, so much so that I often had to use a breast pump for fear of toppling-over under the sheer weight. I did try expressing my milk (pumping then freezing) but always forgot about the supply and just got my boobs out instead. Rest assured, you'll know when you need to pump - painful and hard boobs are not pleasant and if ignored can lead to mastitis. (If in doubt, always see your GP).
What baby wants to drink out of a bottle when they've been used to having the warmth and smell of mummy whilst feeding? I'm afraid that during what I like to call the 'breastfeeding years' I did come across friends and friends-of-friends opposed to my natural feeding; those that either wanted to 'save' their boobs or weren't comfortable or whose baby wasn't able to latch on. For me, it was the most natural thing - why else would I have milk ducts? And I'd get them out whenever and wherever (old work colleagues would agree!) If the child is hungry the child will be fed. Once did it by a duck pond, on a wooden bench whilst eating a sandwich. Sound familiar?
The beauty of breastfeeding is that whilst your baby is putting on weight it's quite the opposite for you. I was back in my skinny jeans within a month. Had I not had painful stitches in my stomach, it would have probably been weeks. I was drinking lots of water and decaf tea and eating healthy meals as well as grazing, if I missed a meal I knew about it. So did the husband. You won't like me when I'm 'hangry'.
Talking of drinking lots, readers of my blog will know that I do like the odd glass of wine/champagne/beer/gin/you-name-it and I did have a few nights out where I'm not ashamed to admit I partook of a few too many. Remembering one occasion where I HAD expressed milk for my husband to use later should the baby wake. Stumbling in and with a crash, bang, wallop I inadvertently woke baby, dramatically thrust her to my boob and sobbed "I've missed you, I shouldn't have gone out, mummy's sorry" Sob. Sob. The next thing I knew I'm waking up, fuzzy-headed, blearily looking into baby's cot beside our bed. "S'pose I should feed her, poor thing must be hungry hey". Him, "Er no. She'll be fine. You fed her for an hour last night, don't you remember?" Me "Oh yeah, of course, sorry I'm just a little er tired".
Being the guilty mum I was in the old days, always worrying about the tiniest of things, I went for a check up at my GPs the next week and told her what I'd done. She laughed and said that baby may be a bit gassy from the champagne but that I'm not to worry about alcohol getting into her system. Feeding her when drunk with my milk is still better than feeding her Formula. I thank you.
I didn't take this as a green light to go mad every weekend, far from it but it just goes to show that your mothering instinct is one of the finest skills we humans have. And the odd glass (or bottle) of LPR never harmed anyone, even a hungry baby.
A little tip for you: you should know to alternate feeding between left and right (or No1 and No2) but in the middle of the night and with sleep deprivation you can get forgetful. I bought myself a feeding bracelet. It's basically a stretchy bead bracelet that says 'Next boob' and you move it from your left to right wrist dependent on which boob was last used. Lots of jewellery makers offer them now but you could just use a hairband.
Back home and it was so much more relaxing than hospital so baby and I had a lovely routine. The body is a marvellous piece of kit; I was recovering from a major op yet still my boobs were full to the brim. A form of elation washing over me every time my girl latched on. I could sit for hours on our bed, baby against me falling asleep, nay literally dropping off my nipple. The best way to recover from a c-section is to feed your baby. I was lucky enough to have a bountiful supply of milk, so much so that I often had to use a breast pump for fear of toppling-over under the sheer weight. I did try expressing my milk (pumping then freezing) but always forgot about the supply and just got my boobs out instead. Rest assured, you'll know when you need to pump - painful and hard boobs are not pleasant and if ignored can lead to mastitis. (If in doubt, always see your GP).
 |
| I may have just knocked her out with No2 |
What baby wants to drink out of a bottle when they've been used to having the warmth and smell of mummy whilst feeding? I'm afraid that during what I like to call the 'breastfeeding years' I did come across friends and friends-of-friends opposed to my natural feeding; those that either wanted to 'save' their boobs or weren't comfortable or whose baby wasn't able to latch on. For me, it was the most natural thing - why else would I have milk ducts? And I'd get them out whenever and wherever (old work colleagues would agree!) If the child is hungry the child will be fed. Once did it by a duck pond, on a wooden bench whilst eating a sandwich. Sound familiar?
The beauty of breastfeeding is that whilst your baby is putting on weight it's quite the opposite for you. I was back in my skinny jeans within a month. Had I not had painful stitches in my stomach, it would have probably been weeks. I was drinking lots of water and decaf tea and eating healthy meals as well as grazing, if I missed a meal I knew about it. So did the husband. You won't like me when I'm 'hangry'.
Talking of drinking lots, readers of my blog will know that I do like the odd glass of wine/champagne/beer/gin/you-name-it and I did have a few nights out where I'm not ashamed to admit I partook of a few too many. Remembering one occasion where I HAD expressed milk for my husband to use later should the baby wake. Stumbling in and with a crash, bang, wallop I inadvertently woke baby, dramatically thrust her to my boob and sobbed "I've missed you, I shouldn't have gone out, mummy's sorry" Sob. Sob. The next thing I knew I'm waking up, fuzzy-headed, blearily looking into baby's cot beside our bed. "S'pose I should feed her, poor thing must be hungry hey". Him, "Er no. She'll be fine. You fed her for an hour last night, don't you remember?" Me "Oh yeah, of course, sorry I'm just a little er tired".
Being the guilty mum I was in the old days, always worrying about the tiniest of things, I went for a check up at my GPs the next week and told her what I'd done. She laughed and said that baby may be a bit gassy from the champagne but that I'm not to worry about alcohol getting into her system. Feeding her when drunk with my milk is still better than feeding her Formula. I thank you.
I didn't take this as a green light to go mad every weekend, far from it but it just goes to show that your mothering instinct is one of the finest skills we humans have. And the odd glass (or bottle) of LPR never harmed anyone, even a hungry baby.
A little tip for you: you should know to alternate feeding between left and right (or No1 and No2) but in the middle of the night and with sleep deprivation you can get forgetful. I bought myself a feeding bracelet. It's basically a stretchy bead bracelet that says 'Next boob' and you move it from your left to right wrist dependent on which boob was last used. Lots of jewellery makers offer them now but you could just use a hairband.
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| Wearing the 'boob' bracelet on a day out |
I've only fed baby twice at house parties. They were close friends and had allocated a bedroom I could use should the need arise. The only thing with having a very active milk flow is that they can leak. If the left boob (we'll call it No1) is in action the right one (No2) starts crying because it feels left out. I jest. No2 will leak, it's like some kind of natural valve system. There are breastfeeding pads you can get, that slip inside your bra to protect your clothes - I didn't know about them at the time or else I would have worn them under my lovely pale grey dress that I wore that one time. That one time I was photographed. And the photo uploaded to Facebook, unwittingly but when you see it you SEE it. Gah.
Talking of embarrassing breastfeeding moments, and I'm sure if the troll was able to read this he'd be horrified, I once sprang a leak in a coffee shop. Sat with a friend, baby was crying because she was hungry and it had taken a while to get a table. Found a table in the corner, got No1 out, baby latched on quickly and quite violently (gets 'hangry' like her mother) and gulped down her lunch. Someone dropped a fork nearby, baby moved her head and yes you've guessed it. The next table's occupant almost had extra milk in their soya cappucino. Cringe? I wanted to curl up under our table and stay there for the next year. The only witness was my friend beside me who, between snorts of laughter, said we should leave and find a less busy cafe.
I breastfed my girl up until two weeks after her 2nd birthday. She was weaned as normal but I continued to give her breast milk as a supplement to food and the dreaded Formula. For a few weeks leading up to her birthday it had began to hurt as she had a couple of teeth and was accidently catching and consequently biting my skin. That was a big decision but one that all feeding mums have to make at some point. I pride myself on doing it for that long. And my boobs, now at 34F, still look like and I quote an old work colleague "wench's boobs" even if I do say so myself. Oh and I still shop at Bravissimo, but not the 'mother' section rather the 'sexy mutha'. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.
That's one in the eye (literally?) to all those anti-breast campaigners.
For information on positioning and attachment, click here
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