Tag Archives: Tandem Nursing

Weaning Frances

3 Replies

After nearly three years—1,074 days, to be exact—my middle gal is no longer nursing. I wasn’t sure it was going to happen. There were times I wondered if she’d be going into kindergarten in two years still nursing and wearing diapers. At least now I only have to concern myself with potty training—a feat I’m not looking forward to on account of the fact that girlfriend in TERRIFIED of sitting on the toilet. Always has been.

Anyway, two weeks ago I had to drive back to Pennsylvania for my sister’s last-minute wedding. Since we had just been back for Easter weekend, I didn’t really want to make a second quick trip with ALL of the kids in tow. I thought I’d just take Rowan with me and have Liam stay behind with the girls. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to wean.

Up until that point, Frances had only been nursing one time before bed each evening. It was something she VERY much looked forward to. Often, she tried to tell me she was ready for bed at 7:30, even though she’d napped and likely wouldn’t be ready to fall asleep before 9. Most times I indulged her, because the look about her was pure joy—bright smile, wide eyes, excited limbs.

We’d go upstairs to nurse in bed, she’d do her thing, and then she’d proclaim in the most awake voice, “I’m not ready for bed, mama. I wanna go back downstairs.”  Uh-huh. Just as I suspected. A fake-out just to get her nursing on.

When I contemplated weaning, I wavered back and forth about whether or not it was time. She’s only doing it once a day. That’s not so bad. I mean, I could keep going. She loves it so much. And it’s still such an important connecting time for us given she’s such an attached and emotionally needy child, not to mention the continued health benefits.

But then, there’d be an evening when she wouldn’t fall asleep nursing. And I’d have to unlatch and disconnect her because I was done nursing. Then she would whine and yell and have her little tantrum, and I’d be all: OK. We need to be done. Like, yesterday.

The decision was made. I needed to be resolute. I talked to Frances the entire week before I left for PA. I explained what was going to happen when I went away and then after. She definitely understood. Some days she seemed to share in my excitement about her becoming a ‘big girl’; other days she went into Cranky Franky mode and exclaimed she was still a baby, and was NOT going to give up nursing, ever again.

I was a little emotional the night before my trip—the last night Frances nursed. She and I had been connected in this relationship for so long. However, any sadness I felt was NOTHING compared to the grief I felt when I nursed Nora for the last time at 20 months of age—a sure sign I wasn’t truly ready. However, I’d been four-and-a-half months pregnant with Frances and nursing was painful. I also hadn’t had the benefit of watching a fellow mama nurse throughout her pregnancy and then tandem breastfeed both her infant and toddler like I did when I was expecting Frances and had Candace (our old babysitter) in our lives. Had I an opportunity to do it all over again, I would have suffered through the pain to get to the other side.

Frances did great the weekend I was away. She didn’t ask to nurse once. (I’m assuming it’s because she knew there was no supply available from her father, despite the fact that he’s jokingly offered to nurse her many times in my place over the years. She never once took him up on his offer. Wise girl, that Frances). Liam did mention, however, that she was very clingy and wanted to be held the whole weekend. Likewise, I did fine in Pennsylvania. I had no residual sadness. Only fond memories. And relief, I might add, to just be nursing one child instead of two.

Since I’ve been back—almost two weeks now—Frances still has not asked to nurse or mentioned one time anything about our past experiences breastfeeding. She is very clingy and whiny though. More so than usual. And a little extra cranky, especially around bedtime. Now that we don’t have that special nighttime routine, she has small fits with me when I’m the one to put her to bed. She insists on lying on top of me in order to fall asleep. When Liam does bedtime, things go better for him. I imagine it will take some time for Frances to settle emotionally, even though she’s not vocalizing what she’s working through. I’m trying to be patient and extra sensitive—giving lots of hugs and cuddle time. I know this is what she needs, and not a neck-wringing like I’d sometimes like to do when the whining and tantrumming push me to a breaking point.

Our middle gal will be three in eight days. The last birthday of our birthday season. She may not be ready for little girl undies any time soon, but she reached her weaning milestone no problem. Go, you big brave girl, go!

 

 

Tandem nursing: A great success! Although I may never get off the couch or leave the house again.

Leave a reply

Following Rowan’s birth, I was separated—with the exception of a few small visits, during which she did not really ask to nurse—from my middle child for four days and three nights. She had previously weaned from breastfeeding at night, but was still actively nursing two-to-three times a day. It was the longest we’d been apart up to that point.

On our last day at the hospital, as Liam and I considered heading home with Rowan, and having my parents hang onto the girls an extra day more than we had planned—due to our becoming ill with a stomach bug—I suddenly burst into tears. 

When Liam asked me what was wrong, I replied, “What if Frances doesn’t want to nurse anymore?”

I’m sure it was due to hormones, utter exhaustion, and just the overwhelming emotion of the previous two days’ events, but it felt as though I were grieving for something I hadn’t even yet known I’d for sure lost. I was consumed with the thought that I had nursed my youngest daughter for the last time, yet wasn’t prepared for the relationship to end.

And then, there was some kind of an emergency on the hospital floor—a Code K? Evidently a baby had gone missing. Several nurses and aids came into our room checking about and looking into the bathroom rather urgently and somewhat discreetly. 

Gratefully, the baby had just been misplaced, not stolen. She was returned to her frantic parents. The commotion, though, had the much needed effect of snapping me out of my little pity party and moving me toward packing up our things, lest our baby be the next to go missing.

In the end, I needn’t have worried about Frances. When she was returned to us, she lovingly and eagerly accepted my offering to nurse. In fact, she would gladly do so as often as her brother, I think. Thankfully, she is somewhat distracted at meal times and when her dad and big sister are around. It’s the times, like this morning, with Liam back to work and Nora at school, that I fear we will just be our own little three-person LaLeche League circle, nursing for hours on end, with no relief in sight.

It has taken some getting used to balancing time spent breadtfeeding the baby and also responding to Frances’s needs. I’ve managed to get them both attached at the same time a handful of times, but I prefer them to nurse separately, given the seeming gigantic size of my nearly two-year-old when compared to my eight-day-old and the logistics involved in positioning everyone just right. Liam snapped a ridiculous picture of us all the other night and was just dying to share it with someone outside our family. I urged him to be wise and NOT share it. I haven’t checked Instagram lately. Let’s hope, for his sake, it’s not hanging out there.

Our nighttime looks a bit interesting now too. Initially we tried Liam sleeping with both girls in one bed, while I slept with the baby in the other room. Our thinking was that since Frances had night-weaned, and just spent three nights sleeping with my parents, this transition would be OK for her.

However, she woke up the first two nights, multiple times, distressed and screaming, wanting to be with me. Liam couldn’t console her. So now, even though I read about co-sleeping and nursing “rotisserie style,” (turning back and forth as needed in between toddler and newborn), and decided it was NOT for me, that is where we are. It’s necessary to be flexible, right?

So far, it’s all been OK. I feel like I’m still able to get sleep. And honestly, nursing this time around is off to the best start ever. I recommend every new mom have a nursing toddler to help alleviate engorgement and the pain of having an overabundant milk supply. I have had very few problems and discomfort, unlike when both girls were born.

We continue to take things day-by-day here, but are happy to report that our two little—well, one little, one giant—nurslings are thriving!


Tandem Nursing: Amazing or Craziness?

Leave a reply

Warning: This post contains words like breast, breastfeeding, boob, nipple, and nursing. If this terminology makes you uncomfortable, you probably want to stop reading now. Come back and visit again another day, when the subject matter is more to your liking. If you’re not disturbed by this topic, then by all means, read on!

The choice to breastfeed was an easy one for me. My mom breastfed all four of her children—at least for several months up to almost a year—supplementing with formula when her body and work schedule made it so she could go no more. In addition, her oldest sister, my godmother, was something like the High Chieftanness of the local La Leche League chapter in her town. She passed her wisdom onto my mom, and my mom, in turn, passed it on to me.

I nursed my firstborn until she was twenty months old and I was four-and-a-half-months pregnant with my second child. I considered trying to extend the time, but I just couldn’t imagine nursing both a toddler and an infant. This seemed overwhelming and stressful, and I wanted no part of it. More importantly, at this point in my pregnancy, the hormones associated with preparing for the new baby created heightened nipple sensitivity levels the likes of which I’d never known before. Nursing had become an extremely painful event—an extreme sport, if you will, to be avoided at all costs. There may have even been some tears involved.

So, with much sadness, I decided to stop. It was gradual, of course, cutting out a session here and there until the end. I very much remember that night, the last time, with vivid fondness and heartache. That experience in and of itself could be the topic for another post.

Nora was also sad about it all at the time. She was frustrated and disappointed too. Gratefully, this only lasted a few days for her. After that time, with a lot of support, intervention, and distraction from Liam, she seemed to forget breastfeeding was something we both once so enjoyed.

I did not get over things as quickly or as easily as she did. I remember about a week or so after I completely stopped breastfeeding, I gently squeezed my boob in the shower, curious to see if anything would happen. When a couple droplets of milk escaped, I erupted into tears. Dripping wet, in just a towel, and choking back sobs, I tried to explain to Liam how my body was still making milk for our baby, and who was I to tell it to stop?

Liam offered comfort and helped to reassure me that I had made the right choice for me, for Nora, and the new baby. And, when I thought back on how the pain had made me enjoy the act less and less with every passing day, I was able to move on, comfortable, yet still sad, with the decision I’d made.

So here I am now, breastfeeding my second child, and slightly more than seven months into pregnancy #3. (I should mention that this time around I’ve been heavily influenced and motivated by a neighborhood friend, who also happens to be our beloved babysitter—a woman who chose to continue nursing her older child through her entire second pregnancy and beyond the birth of her baby—this is known as tandem nursing).

I encountered the same pain and discomfort during the same part of this pregnancy as I did before—the third and fourth months were the absolute worst. This time, though, with a renewed, hopeful spirit, I decided to stick it out. The pain subsided beginning in month five, and since then we’ve suffered painful setbacks only every time new tooth has erupted (which unfortunately, has been fairly often). Each time I tell myself the discomfort  and pain will only last a few days and that it will all be worth it to push through. Oh, and another strategy I employ is to cut back on the number and length of nursing sessions, much to the dissatisfaction of my littlest.

Franny and I are indeed going through a rough patch now. She has a fang trying to bust through her top gum and so she considers my nipples a chew toy meant to massage her sore mouth and relieve her of her pain. What about my pain? I ask! She doesn’t get it. When she’s not gumming the hell out of my nipple, she’s going into super-suck-overdrive. Why is this? I can’t say for sure. I’ve had a much diminished milk supply since month five of this pregnancy. Is she overly thirsty? Hungry? Does that fang require something extra to make it descend? These questions I can’t answer. I just know that after a few minutes of this nonsense, I have to disengage and break the suction—switch sides. Distract. Anything to end the madness. This often results in copious amounts of crying, begging, and whining. Noyse, peez! Moy? Peez, mama! (Nurse, please! More? Please, mama!). It’s heartbreaking, really. But I must deny my child for fear that she will ruin my breasts for posterity, more than they’ve already been damaged by years of overuse and mistreatment from little nurslings (yes, this is the correct La Leche terminology for the little breast-suckers).

So, with all of the horror I’ve described, why do I persist? I love breastfeeding. For me, the joy of the experience far outweighs all of the negatives. I love that my children love and have loved it too. I see it as mutually beneficial for so many reasons. And, right now, I appreciate it so much, because it is sometimes the only thing that will stop me in my tracks, take me away from all the hustle and bustle—everything I feel like I must be doing, or else—and force me to sit on the couch, or lie down in bed, and just breathe. I can snuggle and nuzzle close to my baby, knowing I’m providing her nourishment and comfort. How can I say no to the giddiness she shows every time she or I suggest nursing and she knows she’s just moments away from one of her all-time favorite activites? I can’t. At least, not yet.

And so, I’m remaining open to tandem nursing. I’m still nine weeks away from having to make a decision, and I’d like to do some more reading about it. I recently asked a former colleague to return a breastfeeding book I loaned her last year when she had her baby. I told her I was considering nursing Frances alongside the new baby. She responded that she thought I was amazing. I countered with: amazing, or crazy? The answer to this I don’t yet know. I’ll try to keep you updated as the results come in.