By Liz Leiman
The Little Guy is three months old today (where did the time go?!) By now I would like to think I have the hang of this whole breastfeeding business, but more often than not I wake up in a pool of milk or it seems the second I leave the house I have sprung a leak. We were very lucky, my son and I, to catch on from the start, but not without hours of obsessing before the big day actually came. I feel, like probably many women from my generation, I have had little exposure to breastfeeding. I didn’t have family to observe first hand. Many of my girlfriends are on child number two, but when their first babies were born I was single and not interested to see what went on behind the scenes. I considered a breastfeeding class, but was put on bed rest the last month of my pregnancy before I could attend. So I went in blindly and was lucky to have a great lactation consultant at the hospital were my son was born. A few weeks later I went to the Motherhood Center to the Breastfeeding Support Group just to make sure we were on the right track.
A couple of weeks ago I experienced what I feel is the ultimate baby challenge. We had our first solo trip without Dad to visit the grandparents out of state, which would also require us to fly. The neurotic new mother that I am read tirelessly online about flying with infants, as well as, interrogated my poor pediatrician about what to do. To add to my stress, the week of our trip, I decided to change the Little Guy’s nursing schedule by giving him an extra half hour between feeds and cutting out one feed altogether. I just knew all these changes along with the travel would surely cause a meltdown, but luckily he took it in stride. I wish I could say the same for myself.
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