Casey Berberich, Grand Forks, North Dakota

Originally published in the Fall 2015 issue of Northern LLLights, the Area Leaders’ Letter for La Leche League of Minnesota and the Dakotas

Click here for Part One.

When my third son arrived, I experienced the blissful nursing experience I heard about at meetings. Jonas was born and knew exactly what to do. He nursed early and often, and he was the happiest baby I had ever seen. The experience of breastfeeding without difficulties allowed me to soak up my baby in a way I had never been able to before.

When Kellen was born 18 months later, I was ready for a repeat of the last experience. I daydreamed about the early days with a snuggly baby at my breast, skin-to-skin, enjoying every second of it. Between the perfect birth I had imagined and the plans I had for breastfeeding, I anticipated his birth in a new way. As we all know, life usually doesn’t turn out as we anticipate. Kellen was born via a cesarean. The birth plans were made the day before his birth and in a hurry. I didn’t know much about cesarean births at the time. I did know enough to ask that he should be placed on my chest before leaving the operating room. (That didn’t happen.) I also knew that if I couldn’t do skin-to-skin with him, my husband should do that. (That also didn’t happen.) When we did try nursing, it wasn’t the perfect culmination of all my years of anticipation and experience. Kellen struggled to latch. It took several days longer than expected to transition from colostrum to milk. He lost weight. I pumped and supplemented with the pumped milk. Despite my plans to enjoy a blissful time with my newborn, I found myself faced with new and unfamiliar obstacles. Kellen had a tongue-tie. I experienced low supply concerns for the first time, and we found out later that Kellen also had low muscle tone.

Needless to say, the experience was difficult. I anticipated days filled with snuggles, naps, and relaxation; instead days were filled with pain management, supply worries, and a baby who struggled to nurse. When he was young, I knew that if we could get through the first few weeks, we would settle into a routine and begin to enjoy the experience more and more. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. We continued to struggle. Even after Kellen began to latch regularly, he had other issues with nursing including pushing against my ribs and arching his neck and back during feedings. As we worked through the struggles, I kept waiting to feel “it.” I waited anxiously for the bonding, for the hormones to help me feel all those great emotions I had experienced with Jonas. Day after day, I waited. They didn’t come. After about six months, we reached a place where we were able to breastfeed regularly and without significant worries. I’m not sure either of us enjoyed it, though. Soon after, Kellen began to go on nursing strikes. I would offer; he would refuse. I would take him to bed; he would cry. Then, just as I was about to panic, he would nurse. This happened every few weeks. I wasn’t sure we would make it to what I considered to be my very minimum goal of one year.

We kept working on it, and we made it to one year. Then, miraculously, we made it to two! It never seemed like Kellen enjoyed nursing. He didn’t relax into a feeding, but he did keep accepting when I offered. We kept going. Somehow, we made it to three years. Knowing he was my last baby, I did my best to savor the last few weeks of my breastfeeding experience. Each time he woke up at night, I reminded myself that it was our special time, and we wouldn’t have it for very much longer.

Then, one day in June, he was done. It was long in coming, but it was also a surprise and a milestone I hadn’t particularly been looking forward to experiencing.

Since his weaning, I have considered what this means for me as a mother and what it means for me as an LLL Leader. I occasionally find myself shifting him into the cradle hold when he is particularly upset or tired. Recently, he started saying, “Mom, there’s no more mommy milk in there. I drank it all!” Yes, sweetheart, you did.

After a total of eight years and ten months spent nursing, or 11 years and seven months, if I can count each month tandem nursing as two, it’s time for me to find a new normal. In my circle of friends and in the town where I live, I was known for breastfeeding for a long time. People I had never met would call or email me and say something like, “I know we don’t know each other, but so-and-so said you would be a good person to answer my breastfeeding question.”

Perhaps part of the reason that the weaning of my youngest child has been such a big deal for me is that it signals that all of my children are getting older and needing me in new and different ways. Thankfully, a mother is something I will always be.