I asked him “Do you want me to breastfeed?” It really wasn’t his choice. It was mine. Nursing was a personal choice. He responded “I would like you to try.” I thought about it. I could try.
I was exhausted. The delivery was an emergency c-section. I was sick. The baby had to come out because I couldn’t take anymore. But, I wanted to nurse. In post-op I wanted to nurse him. I asked to nurse him. I didn’t want them to give him a bottle. I wanted him to nurse from his mother. I was too weak. I was told that they had to give him something. Sugar water I think. I was hazy. “Rest mama” is what they kept saying.
With many of the tubes removed from me I’m now settled in the maternity wing. No more high risk wing. My blood pressure is still high. Pills to reduce it. “I want to nurse him” I say. “You’re too weak mama. We’ll give him formula. You can pump.” I cried. All I wanted to do was to nurse him. I slept. I was exhausted.
Day 3 after my delivery, the lactation consultant came to show me how to nurse him. I told her that I had been sick and they wanted me to pump. That I pumped and my mom fed him from the bottles but I wanted to nurse him. She told me that nursing was best. She turned over the bottle and the milk just flowed out. She explained that babies don’t have to work for it in the bottle. They have to work for it on the boob. The next twenty minutes were about her showing me how to nurse my son. He was 3 days old and I finally got to nurse him. It was weird. It didn’t hurt. It just was a weird experience.
I’m a mom.
I did it.
This post was part of the A2Z challenge and the letter “N” is for Nursing. My posts will be written as a journal style for the challenge and will be on the theme: Mothering While Black. I hope you enjoyed it.