Before Soren was born, Scott and I attended a breastfeeding class at our local hospital. It was very informative. When I left, I felt confident and determined. Those were feelings I would definitely need in the coming weeks and months as I struggled to establish good feeding patterns with my newborn son. I would remember very little of what the lactation consultant taught but her optimism and earnestness would remain with me. I trusted her and I do not regret it for she gave the gift of nursing, something I had never before felt drawn to.
The consultant stressed in her presentation the importance of feeding your baby whenever he is hungry, a very sensible suggestion. She taught us to look for hunger cues and warned the class that crying was a late sign of hunger. I felt so confident that I would watch for those cues and my baby would never cry. Why would he? Crying was a late sign of hunger (read: starvation) and of course I would never miss my precious one's early signs.
Then Soren was born. The first few days were like a dream. I applied the principles I had learned in my breast-feeding class and nursing was easy, painless, and so tender. When he wasn't eating, Soren slept and I just watched him, full of love, with the breast ever at the ready. He would sometimes chew on me for hours, sucking in his sleep. Other times he would pop on and off for short snacks every ten or twenty minutes. I loved it.
Then came the trouble. I became engorged and my skin was raw and cracked from the constant sucking. I didn't nurse any less but Soren started sleeping less--and screaming all the time. I thought he was starving! I didn't know what I'd done wrong! I sat in bed with him all day, trying to anticipate his needs, nursing and nursing and nursing at every whine or peep with no sign that any of it was soothing him. He was obviously frustrated and I could only think that he wasn't getting enough to eat. More of the same was the only solution I could come up with.
After a couple of months, we became accustomed to each other. Perhaps I should say I became accustomed to him because he certainly didn't get any calmer. I made the milk constantly available to him, nursing while doing housework, shopping, reading, walking, and attending meetings. I slept on the couch most nights so that Scott wouldn't be disturbed by Soren's middle-of-the-night rage as I fumbled to help him latch on in the dark. At the time, I thought him a little tyrant, demanding every ounce of vitality I had. Now I know he was just as confused and frustrated with me as I was with him.
Some nights I just snapped. I would scream right back at Soren and Scott would drag me away.
At about three months, my visiting teacher recommended a book to me: On Becoming Babywise. I had heard (from the lactation consultant at my nursing class) that the Babywise method of feeding was pretty much the devil incarnate. But I was desperate for some peace and if my visiting teacher, whom I respected as a competent mother of five, was recommending it, perhaps it was worth a try. I wanted to crack the code of Soren's crying and I felt certain he wanted me to crack it, too.
I won't try to summarize everything this book recommends. The big (and supposedly evil) recommendation is that parents plan to feed their baby at reasonable and regularly spaced times. An important part of this plan is insuring that the baby eats until he is full at each scheduled feeding. This means no falling asleep on the breast or at the bottle. A baby that is wide awake after eating and is no longer interested in milk will not be hungry again for at least 2-1/2 more hours. After a few frenzied months of feeding Soren almost every half hour, that astonishing claim seemed almost ludicrous.
But I tried it and it worked for us. I stopped feeding Soren at every peep and instead responded to his cries with another kind of attention. I learned that it was not necessary for me to stifle my baby's cries with a biological pacifier but to interpret them correctly. Some cries were the result of discomfort and I would change his diaper, cuddle him close, or dress him warmly. Some cries were the result of overstimulation, and I would sequester him from well-intentioned visitors. Some cries were the result of boredom, and I would hold out a toy for him to grasp or take him for a walk. I soon learned to recognize his most frequent cry: the wail of exhaustion. He really would be relieved when I laid him in his bassinet to sleep. And, of course, I would respond to his hunger cries, although I was now able to catch those early cues, the most obvious of which was timing. I would not let him go more than three hours without eating during the day, even if that meant waking him to eat.
The change in our home was quick and complete. We became a family again, not just three stressed people trying to extract our needs from each other. We each had confidence that we would be taken care of appropriately. Nursing became, again, the joy it was the day of his birth.
I've heard this called parent-directed feeding, which I think is a great name but doesn't sum up the idea very well. To me, the beauty of this approach is that the parent is anticipating as well as a responding to the baby's needs. The mom knows when the baby is probably hungry and makes sure food is available then. She also listens when he is upset and--of course!--feeds again if he is hungry. Mom does not act blindly on the baby (as with a strict schedule) and baby does not act blindly on the mom (as with a programed response to every cry). Mom and baby communicate, establishing that most important channel from the start.
I used this approach to feedings with Carl from the very first day, which is why I feel confident saying that this works for us. Nursing at every cry was stressful for me and for Soren. Although I never tried that with Carl, he has thrived on this alternative, as have I. We have enjoyed our time together from the start because Soren broke me in, really taught me to listen.
The consultant stressed in her presentation the importance of feeding your baby whenever he is hungry, a very sensible suggestion. She taught us to look for hunger cues and warned the class that crying was a late sign of hunger. I felt so confident that I would watch for those cues and my baby would never cry. Why would he? Crying was a late sign of hunger (read: starvation) and of course I would never miss my precious one's early signs.
Then Soren was born. The first few days were like a dream. I applied the principles I had learned in my breast-feeding class and nursing was easy, painless, and so tender. When he wasn't eating, Soren slept and I just watched him, full of love, with the breast ever at the ready. He would sometimes chew on me for hours, sucking in his sleep. Other times he would pop on and off for short snacks every ten or twenty minutes. I loved it.
Then came the trouble. I became engorged and my skin was raw and cracked from the constant sucking. I didn't nurse any less but Soren started sleeping less--and screaming all the time. I thought he was starving! I didn't know what I'd done wrong! I sat in bed with him all day, trying to anticipate his needs, nursing and nursing and nursing at every whine or peep with no sign that any of it was soothing him. He was obviously frustrated and I could only think that he wasn't getting enough to eat. More of the same was the only solution I could come up with.
After a couple of months, we became accustomed to each other. Perhaps I should say I became accustomed to him because he certainly didn't get any calmer. I made the milk constantly available to him, nursing while doing housework, shopping, reading, walking, and attending meetings. I slept on the couch most nights so that Scott wouldn't be disturbed by Soren's middle-of-the-night rage as I fumbled to help him latch on in the dark. At the time, I thought him a little tyrant, demanding every ounce of vitality I had. Now I know he was just as confused and frustrated with me as I was with him.
Some nights I just snapped. I would scream right back at Soren and Scott would drag me away.
At about three months, my visiting teacher recommended a book to me: On Becoming Babywise. I had heard (from the lactation consultant at my nursing class) that the Babywise method of feeding was pretty much the devil incarnate. But I was desperate for some peace and if my visiting teacher, whom I respected as a competent mother of five, was recommending it, perhaps it was worth a try. I wanted to crack the code of Soren's crying and I felt certain he wanted me to crack it, too.
I won't try to summarize everything this book recommends. The big (and supposedly evil) recommendation is that parents plan to feed their baby at reasonable and regularly spaced times. An important part of this plan is insuring that the baby eats until he is full at each scheduled feeding. This means no falling asleep on the breast or at the bottle. A baby that is wide awake after eating and is no longer interested in milk will not be hungry again for at least 2-1/2 more hours. After a few frenzied months of feeding Soren almost every half hour, that astonishing claim seemed almost ludicrous.
But I tried it and it worked for us. I stopped feeding Soren at every peep and instead responded to his cries with another kind of attention. I learned that it was not necessary for me to stifle my baby's cries with a biological pacifier but to interpret them correctly. Some cries were the result of discomfort and I would change his diaper, cuddle him close, or dress him warmly. Some cries were the result of overstimulation, and I would sequester him from well-intentioned visitors. Some cries were the result of boredom, and I would hold out a toy for him to grasp or take him for a walk. I soon learned to recognize his most frequent cry: the wail of exhaustion. He really would be relieved when I laid him in his bassinet to sleep. And, of course, I would respond to his hunger cries, although I was now able to catch those early cues, the most obvious of which was timing. I would not let him go more than three hours without eating during the day, even if that meant waking him to eat.
The change in our home was quick and complete. We became a family again, not just three stressed people trying to extract our needs from each other. We each had confidence that we would be taken care of appropriately. Nursing became, again, the joy it was the day of his birth.
I've heard this called parent-directed feeding, which I think is a great name but doesn't sum up the idea very well. To me, the beauty of this approach is that the parent is anticipating as well as a responding to the baby's needs. The mom knows when the baby is probably hungry and makes sure food is available then. She also listens when he is upset and--of course!--feeds again if he is hungry. Mom does not act blindly on the baby (as with a strict schedule) and baby does not act blindly on the mom (as with a programed response to every cry). Mom and baby communicate, establishing that most important channel from the start.
I used this approach to feedings with Carl from the very first day, which is why I feel confident saying that this works for us. Nursing at every cry was stressful for me and for Soren. Although I never tried that with Carl, he has thrived on this alternative, as have I. We have enjoyed our time together from the start because Soren broke me in, really taught me to listen.
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