mmmm... boobies...

(Extensive talk about boobies, body fluids, and personal space to ensue.  Read at your own risk, my friends.)

When I was preparing for Aidan's birth, I read as much as I possibly could about breastfeeding. I definitely wanted to breastfeed my child for lots of different reasons: it was healthy, it was cheap, it would pass on good immunity, it was cheap, it was a bonding experience, it was cheap, it was something awesome only my body could provide, and it was cheap.

Did I mention it was cheap?

Seriously, it was more than just a financial issue, although the idea of saving all that money from not buying formula was certainly an attractive side benefit. It was something I really wanted to do and something I was really looking forward to.

And then Aidan was born. And then I sorta went crazy for a little while and had to take meds to calm the crazy. And I also had to deal with some mega-huge self-inflicted expectations on myself, expectations that no one could possibly ever hope to meet, trains of thought that were totally irrational. Like, I was a massive failure as a mother that I couldn't get my kid to latch on correctly and had to use a nipple shield that I couldn't get him to give up... after just two weeks. I *hated* that damn shield, mostly because I felt like some sort of substandard mother when I used it.  Add a serious dose of hormones and exhaustion to the mix, and well, yeah, it was all one huge sucking experience.

Thusly, the breastfeeding went down the toilet, along with the hated nipple shield.

This pregnancy, I counted on being a formula-only mom. Truthfully, I was totally looking forward to getting entire nights of sleep while my hubs was on bottle duty for the night, not having leaky breasts, and never having to utter the words "nipple shield" ever again. Over the past few weeks, I had even stocked up on a couple of cans of our favorite formula with Aidan, just to be ready when we brought the new little squirt home.

And then my friend Shannon had her first biological child, Zachary, whose pictures you can totally ogle over here. (He's just about the most adorable thing EVER.) She told me about this amazing lactation consultant she was seeing who was totally helping her breastfeed this new little miracle in her life... and all the problems she needed help with from the lactation consultant were so very similar to the ones I had with Aidan. And they were successfully feeding through them.

Hope began to twitch inside of me.

You see, for as frustrating as the whole breastfeeding experience had become for me by the time I had to switch over to formula, I somehow only remember how much I wanted to breastfeed. Not because I felt pressured to, not because I felt like a bad mother if I didn't, but because I really, really wanted to.

(Oh, I know, grammar people. That's, like, the eleventy billionth sentence I ended with a preposition. Don't be hatin'.)

So, in the name of leaving all my options open, I went to go see the same lactation consultant, Pat Lindsey. I didn't really know what to expect: I knew we were going to talk about breastfeeding, but would she want to see my boobs? Show me the correct types of feeding holds right then and there? I was pretty nervous, actually. I mean, on my first date with Jason, we didn't even hold hands. Today before my appointment, I took a full shower, shaved, and moisturized like crazy because I was pretty sure this woman was going to get to second base within 10 minutes of meeting me.

Thankfully, there was no flashing of naughty bits at this meeting.  As it turned out, Pat was incredible.  Within about 15 minutes, I was able to see where some of my previous attempts at breastfeeding had gone sour, and I had gained oodles more information than I had gotten over several days in the hospital with other well-meaning but less-knowledgeable lactation consultants and nurses.  We talked about feeding techniques, pumping, and yes, the infamous nipple shield.  I learned terms like "nipple sandwich" and "womb lag".  And best of all, I went from thinking that breastfeeding was going to come with major negatives that I'd just have to suck up and deal with, to feeling like I can TOTALLY do this breastfeeding thing and enjoy it and be successful at it, finally.

Whew.  And I didn't even need to go to second base to get that assurance.

Bring it, boobies.  I'm ready for you.