When I found out I was to become a Mum for the second time, with such a long time "in between drinks" (almost 5 years), I set myself some goals. I like to be organised and plan ahead. I also like worry and cause myself undue stress but that's another story.
I had a few things floating around with all the hormones that wouldn't leave my mind. I wanted a C/S due to my previous birth experience, which felt everything but natural. I wanted midwifery-led care. I wanted (as close enough to) immediate skin to skin with my new child. I wanted the baby to stay with me unless either of us was too unwell. I wanted to give birth at the Women's. But most importantly of all, I wanted to breast feed. For as long as Lauren-ly possibly.
With a bunch of ticks on my checklist, I find myself perfectly content when thinking of how my second birth experience eventuated. I got everything I wanted and I got a beautiful daughter and sister for my beloved boy.
After facing every possible breastfeeding problem, small and large, under the sun, Ruby and I battled on. I love feeding her. It makes me feel close to her and makes me feel like I'm continuing to provide for her as I did before her birth. Feeding her provided me with warmth and comfort when I truly and utterly needed it the most, warmth that no one else but a tiny, reliant, new human being can give their mother. I needed to feed her and keep our bond strong when I lost my mum. I fed her within an hour of finding out I had lost my mum and it soothed my confused mind. I fed her before Mum's funeral service, which calmed my nerves. I fed her after the service, during a short moment where I don't think I could ever feel as alone in the world as I did sitting there beside the empty chapel.
A smile from my daughter after a feed makes my day. It's like a tick of approval or a baby-sized thumbs up. We kept feeding through so much pain. I relied on this bonding time just as much as she did. My goal was to go as long as Ruby wanted to.
So with a heart heart (yet a much-relieved body), I'm gutted to say our feeding experience has now ended and Ruby is eating food and having a formula which so far, lovingly agrees with every part of her being. This has been Ruby's choice, or Ruby-led weaning. It is heart-warming to see her full Buddha-like belly rising and falling as she sleeps in her crib at night, but I really wish it was me who had made her full. Feeding her was the most wonderful experience as a mother I've ever had, other than actually giving birth. I felt accomplished, proud and like a woman (rather than a girl) for the first time in my life.
I really feel lost without being needed to feed her. She can already hold her own bottle. Feeling a bit dazed from lack of sleep and useless, even though she still needs me for everything. It feels like such a significant chapter in my life has come to its logical conclusion and the next means Ruby is moving out of infancy and into toddler-hood. Goodness. Time for number 3? I wish. Boob is still best. And thanks to my {angels} Mum and sister Jen for being so supportive of my choice to push through despite all the barriers and obstacles we faced. I really am so proud of myself, I have achieved something great from start to finish. I never EVER gave up. And gave my daughter her first taste of freedom of choice and independence!
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