Food from the heart

By Consuelo R Montallana
Contributor

BREASTFEEDING looks effortless, calm and serene. But my personal experiences actually involved crying, backaches, even self-doubt. But drawn to breastfeed for its common perks, an inner stillness and awe are matters that I can tackle in detail.

We were less distracted with newborn feeding paraphernalia. At our salary as average workers, my husband and I rather invested on food and supplements. The intention was of course for the developing baby and equally for my readiness to breastfeed when the little one arrives.

Breastfeeding means eating for two and eating on time. Liquid consumption, although not a personal, religious practice rapidly became one while double rice eating was a dietician friend’s advice which works fairly well for me. During the first two months, a tumbler full of water was always nearby, gulping it round the clock especially before and after breastfeeding.

During the first weeks, I would sob at how my episiotomy and later on my abdominal area ached. Walking and even turning on bed was a painful effort but the duty to nurse is far more momentous than any possible excuses. My relative’s and family’s support especially from my husband’s countless initiative in helping me position the baby, among others, for better latch was instrumental in my commitment to halt, no way.

Leaving the baby as I resumed work was another phase. A week before that, I started expressing milk using manual pump. Every drip was extraordinary. Kidding aside, a mason jar to gauge my collect would have been a frustration but transferred to a medicine cup amounting to five milliliters — it was an achievement. Three days nearing the date, we introduced bottle feeding. But first, we used expressed milk. The artificial nipple might have been an unwelcome texture but I watched with delight her wonderful progress. Next, we introduced the infant formula and when none of the dreaded discomforts were shown, though with reluctance I would like to believe that we were quite set.

None of these, of course, were done without my own version of rituals. I offered my silent prayer that may she cooperate, that may God bestow her with patience to wait for my arrival before another ounce of serving. Talking to her, I verbally declared that she is one intelligent child and that the nipple confusion thing, which cuts short my breastfeeding affair with my second child now ten, is nothing that we know ever existed!

At work, I continued expressing milk at regular intervals. I once had a letdown when my arm accidentally pressed my chest part and when confirmed that breast massage promotes letdown, I would giggle at the sight of milk squirting in all directions immediately pumping by one hand and the other dutifully collecting, discouraging discards. These were kept refrigerated at the adjacent office using pre-sterilized breast milk storage bags. As I returned home, how proud and accomplished I was to be transporting a high-value package which amounts to my baby’s three to four feedings for the following morning.

I prepared myself for this routine until a hospital nurse/breastfeeding counselor and a barangay health nurse encouraged me to express by hand to increase or stimulate milk production. I gladly submitted at the expense of a more comfortable and efficient, newly purchased (a bit pricey too for my budget) manual breast pump. Collecting milk this way proves for me quite messy and time-consuming thus bringing it home was ticked out as an option. Looking back, I should have had invested more knowledge on this. Now, at one year and three months and counting, I continue to breastfeed especially at night time to dawn, weekends and holidays and also express milk by hand in time for her feeding schedule when I am out traveling (even in airport restrooms!). But still at times, self-doubt arises. I am apprehensive if the ounces of infant milk she’s effortlessly getting from the bottle amounts to the same quantity with my own milk. At times, I can feel her dissatisfaction and restlessness that when her mouth briefly detaches, I would check if milk is still coming out. The sight is so affirmative but sometimes my stubborn worrying would not just go away. After all, filling her little tummy is a very huge responsibility.

My support resources deserves profuse gratitude also as their timely, generous and practical wisdom on breastfeeding has really etched a splendid experience on me as a woman. When bleak chance to continue seems alluring, their patient prodding was a gift.

We have been immensely blessed with a sacred life to take care of and I would like to firmly believe, without falter, that His provision flows in abundance. Along with my family’s amazing love, no amount of tears, or aches or reservations will topple down my enthusiasm on this temporary, wonderful stage of breastfeeding. And with this curly haired, toothless grinning, pouty-lipped and flat-nosed very beautiful and stunning baby, I will promise that she will always be nourished near my heart.