New Zealand Woman’s Weekly reader Julie oaclean has submitted the following story
A grand pair With breasts like poached eggs – size-12 AA cup, I never thought I’d be capable of breastfeeding.
Then, when I was four months pregnant, the fun began. Nothing could stop the changes in my body, my breasts in particular. These raging volcanoes needed cabbage leaves to settle them down. I was Pamela Anderson and wow! It made me feel sexy.
They grew to such a size that I almost needed a wheelbarrow to carry them. I put two huge cabbage leaves down my bra to provide relief. It worked!
I was so excited. This was my first baby and I was getting on a bit – 39 years old. Time was running out. He would be my one and only. Then the unthinkable happened.
At 28 weeks I went into labour. I was rushed into hospital where I stayed for six weeks with my legs in the air. My son, Gus, was born two months premature.
At 32 weeks he could do everything except drive a car and suck. So, I stuck one of those hideous pumps onto my gorgeous boobs. This took a lot out of me but put heaps into my two-kilo son. He doubled in size like a queen bee fed on royal jelly.
As an older mother I did not lose the weight I’d read about. I got fatter but this wasn’t important to me then. I had to keep that boy alive. He was my last chance at being a mum and he was going to thrive.
I’ll never forget how terrifying those first weeks were.
At first it was desperation. Pumping away day and night, trudging up to the Special Care Nursery three times a day – I should have got Mother of the Year. The nurses told me I had to slow down and rest more. I felt like I was going to die from tiredness.
He came home after three weeks in Special Care. I looked forward to his 3am squawk. I put the heater on in the front room. He would feed for 10 minutes on each side. Then I would swaddle him up very tightly. He wouldn’t make another noise for several hours, then it was back to bed for the both of us.
Gus was a dream baby and has not changed. Those times were special moments – the dead of night, all alone with my new life coming into being. It was during one of these times when he smiled for the first time and it wasn’t wind! I got it on camera five minutes later.
He didn’t stop smiling for years. Now, on Gus’ birthday, I haul out the album and make him go through it with me and he smiles again.
It wasn’t all rosy though. There were times when I got carried away with gardening or housework. I longed to be back to normal again. My milk seemed to dry up. My breasts looked the same but Gus wasn’t satisfied. Sometimes I supplemented the feed with formula. When you can’t stand a crying child, anything will do.
I gave into his every whim as a young baby. He was fed whenever he wanted to be and we were all happy. I remember him crying seriously about twice.
After nine months I went back to work, expressing milk for daytime feeds and breastfeeding the rest of the time. I was determined to feed him for a year before giving up. I was exhausted all over again but I did it. As it got close to a year, I have to admit the breastfeeding got boring at times. I liked it if I could wander around the garden with Gus latched on. Sometimes, I found myself alone in his room with nobody to talk to. Then it seemed lonely and tedious. He was getting heavy then too.
Eventually, I got the message loud and clear and it came from him. What got him off the nipple and me off the hook was very simple. He bit me, very hard. I was shocked. My immediate reaction was, “Bugger you!” That was the end of it.
Gus was a strapping, happy toddler with a healthy appetite. He has always eaten everything I put in front of him. Feeding was always simple, natural and uncomplicated. Breastfeeding was a vital part of my recovery from the trauma of his premature birth and the worry that he may not survive or thrive.
The legacy of breastfeeding, however, has surprised us all. Size 14B cups!
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