I breastfed my son for up to one and a half years. Voluntarily, consciously, purposefully. She worried when milk became less, fought for high-quality lactation. In general, I did everything right. There is nothing to regret. I am totally for breast milk.
At the same time, among my friends there were those who also purposefully transferred their crumbs to artificial feeding. Honestly, for all my awareness, I sometimes envied them terribly. For a variety of reasons.
They escaped lactostasis. Who does not know – this is stagnation of milk in the breast. A terrible test. It usually happens in the first weeks of feeding, but I was overtaken after a year. Temperature 38. Chest – stone. It is almost impossible to get rid of it on your own. In the worst cases – I know – it even ended up with surgery. In mine, fortunately, there were physiotherapy procedures. But if I remember, I will shudder.
They were not attached to feeding the baby. Any family member can dilute the mixture and bottle feed the baby. You don’t need breasts for this. And by the way, mom can finally get some sleep at night (if anything, this is a hint for dads).
They didn’t have to worry about the baby going hungry. What did I do when I had to go somewhere for a few hours? Long and persistently pumped to make breast milk reserves. If, for some reason, I had to stay late, I worried whether my son would have enough of what I expressed. It’s better not to go anywhere than to be so nervous. And my friends could even go to a holiday home with her husband for the weekend – grandmothers looked after the kids.
They could wear nice underwear and not “leak”. Sorry for the physiology, but this is all about the chest. “Nursing” bra is not so bad. But going for a child’s birth certificate and at an extremely inopportune moment to find two wet spots on a sweater in the most eloquent places is completely unpleasant. Yes, I know about special gaskets. Didn’t help.
They could eat whatever they wanted. By the end of breastfeeding, I hated boiled beef, turkey, blueberries, and apples. I wanted chocolate! Fried pork! Strawberries! But my son had other desires. He reacted to any food “not according to the rules” with bright red cheeks. But – it comforted me – on GV I lost almost 10 kilograms. And then they all came back. After all, getting hungry, I began to eat all the “forbidden” in tons.
They could heal normally for colds. And even with a headache, I could afford a maximum of paracetamol, which was like an elephant’s grain.
They did not lubricate the nipples with “Bepanten”. And I smeared! After every feeding! Because otherwise they would have turned into a cracked washcloth. Side note: When a child’s first tooth erupts, Bepanten will no longer help.
They did not weigh the child incessantly. How else to understand: is there enough milk or not? How much did he eat? This is emotional calmness, when you know for sure that the crumb is full, and do not rush to apply it to your chest “on demand.”
They started to introduce complementary foods earlier. And their children were subsequently less capricious in food. Although, maybe it just coincided – I can’t guarantee here.
They had sex! Normal. Without a child hanging on a boob, without the feeling that you are a dairy farm, and not a beloved woman. No hormonal peaks. With restored libido. And, excuse me, without dryness in all places.