Originally published Wednesday, 12 August 2015.
Thanksgiving 2013 (with my beloved nursing pillow) "I AM the kids table."
Nursing is hard. Period. For even one baby. It's nuts.
I don't really know why I keep doing it. I just do.
If you had the fabulous fortune of an easy nursing journey, praise Jesus and His Holy Name for all of your days. And I will praise Him for you and thank Him for your good fortune.
As for the rest of us, there are stumbles and struggles and sobbing for weeks on end. At least that's been my experience. With one baby and with two.
With my first born, I wept and wailed and "woe-is-me"-ed for the first couple months of nursing. I made several visits to a lactation consultant for life-saving advice and affirmation. I struggled and stumbled and sobbed my way through cracked, bleeding nipples and the dreaded... thrush. (I still quake in fear at the name.)
With the twins, I wept and wailed and "woe-is-me"-ed all over again. I made every lactation consultant in that hospital assist and advise as I attempted to nurse each babe individually and the two simultaneously. I took home every bit of paraphernalia they could throw at me: nipple shields, latch assists, creams, brochures, hotline numbers, pumps, and pump parts.
In both cases, with my first born and the twins, I nursed them each as soon as I could after delivery, and I just kept doing it. Each day, week, month has been different. I'm hoping by month 6, I'll feel like I know what the heck is going on, but I'm not counting on it.
This is the road we've traveled thus far:
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