Hardcore

Rain is hardcore.

And not because when she got 2 shots last Friday, she didn't cry.

And not because she shook off the fact that she scratched her face with a DVD case; slipped and slammed her face into a door; and didn't throw a fit when her two new teeth cut through her gums--and that was all in one day.

Rain is hardcore because although I was sure she would never forgive me or do anything but rage while we tried to wean her, she has proved herself to be made of tougher stuff.

Since last Friday when we started this whole thing, we've both had our moments, to be sure. The first few mornings were hard. Rain cried Sunday morning from 4:30 onwards and woke up every 30 minutes while Tim carried her and tried to calm her (I was sequestered in another room). The next morning, bleary-eyed, he asked, "So, did you hear her at all last night?"

"Are you kidding? I was staring up at the ceiling all night. My chest, back, and side were hurting, and listening to her cry was the worst," I said.
But besides a few times where she almost fell off the wagon, she's been fantastic. Today is Day 9, and she's sort of just accepted that things have changed.

I have mixed feelings about breastfeeding, as I've said from the beginning. I know there are moms-to-be out there who want to know how things really go down with breastfeeding after you bring that kiddo home from the hospital. You're going to find out anyway, right? So, here's the deal, naked but true:

The Bad News

1. Breastfeeding may be ease-as-cheese for some new moms to learn, especially if their moms were all tree-huggin' woodsy nude colonist hippie types who were all exposed to breastfeeding as children, but it was HARD for me to learn. My mom came from the formula generation, and breastfeeding just seemed to risky to her (what if the baby doesn't get enough milk?). I had no instincts about it, and it took me months (three or four) to feel entirely confident about it. The first month was torture, as I endured much pain/embarrassment trying to get a decent technique going.

2. Shameless. After delivering a baby while naked in a room full of strangers, you'd think I'd have no shame left to speak of. Whatever shriveled bit of pride managed to crawl out of the delivery room was strangled during my first months of breastfeeding. Rain was hungry all the time, and that meant I had to be ready to feed her whenever and wherever we were. In the middle of dinner, at a movie, in a store--wherever we were, I had to find a semi-private, clean space to feed her. The added stress of avoiding attention only made nursing more difficult and uncomfortable.

3. Besides plumbers, only new moms know the evils of leaking. Breast pads are helpful, but it's only a matter of time before you forget an "accident" happens. An accident?? That's for, like, kindergarten when you wet your pants!

The Good News

1. Initially, breastfeeding helped me lose weight. Now, it's all gotta come from hard work (sigh).

2. This is the straight up truth: for the first year of Rain's life, she was never, ever sick. Not even once. Yeah, she got feverish when she teethed, but she never had earaches, stomach troubles, skin issues--nothing. Obviously, Rain was able to stay healthy in part because she wasn't exposed to daycare germs, but I know my antibodies had something to do with it, too. She was around a lot of people all of the time and managed to avoid illness. True story.

3. Ok, once you get the hang of nursing it is convenient. And the sooner you get over the shyness of feeding your kiddo in a public setting, the happier you'll be. Honestly, I'm ashamed to admit, I was always sort of disgusted by breastfeeding when I was single. I just didn't get it. But once I got used to it, I was like, "Who cares? I'm not showing any part of my body in public, so really, who cares what I'm doing?" I got so good at it, in fact, and I'm so not joking here, I could do it while having a conversation with someone (as we strolled along) who had no idea what was going on. I could hold Rain just right with a strategically placed blanket that people thought Rain was just sleeping. Um, no. It was a necessity, I'm telling you. If I had gone into a locked room every time Rain had to nurse, I would never have gotten anything done.

4. And finally, the best reason for nursing Rain was this: I don't know if Rain will ever be as safe and happy as she was when I held her. I used to tell Tim, "You know, she looks at me for a few minutes, closes her eyes, and as she goes to sleep I just know. I know she's safe, and I'm at that moment providing everything for her." It was so weird but very calming. Like most babies, Rain would fall asleep nursing, and watching her breathe, peaceful and perfect, I felt very ... whole.