Alby is sick, he is sad about it and he wants comfort. Little Albert is not a well monkey. Added to the regular runny noses fashioned by most young uns, he is also sporting a manly cough (the type that makes you think he may actually cough up a lung) and has been sick a dozen times over the course of the day.
I can cope with the first two, but the sick is too much. It’s not that I don’t like the mess – I don’t but I can live with that. But we are passed the stage where being sick after every feed is a regular occurrence and so seeing his teary, shocked little face as I lean him over the sink or cuddle him over the bath is just heart breaking.
And far from finding myself in my element, giving full life to the saying “Mother knows best” there have been more than a coupe of times today where I have truly felt that I am doing more harm than good. And I’ve decided to blame my inability to act as the Queen of Nurture on all those breastfeeding fanatics and what they don’t tell you about the bond between breastfed baby and mother.
Alby is sick, he is sad about it and he wants comfort. And in his young, lovely mind the best place for comfort is latched on and nuzzled in to his mama. But feeding is making him sick, even if it’s just comfort sucking he seems to be filling up with mucus and aggravating the situation.
My nursing efforts seem complete nonsense.
It was a rough night for both of us and as he struggles to keep his food down, I am struggling to come up with good enough distractions to put a smile on his face and the security he needs.
Of course, I don’t really blame breastfeeding for this situation. My baby is sick for the first time and I’m having to learn how to see him in pain, to accept that I can’t just wave a wand and make it better, to understand that sometimes all I’ll be able to do is hold his hand and clean up after him.
Today more than ever though I am grateful for all my family – my parents and my in laws. I’m grateful that I’m not in Yorkshire going through this alone and I’m humbled by the thousands of single parents out there who do have to stick it alone.
And in his young, lovely mind the best place for comfort is latched on and nuzzled in to his mama. But feeding is making him sick, even if it’s just comfort sucking he seems to be filling up with mucus and aggravating the situation.
My nursing efforts seem complete nonsense.
It was a rough night for both of us and as he struggles to keep his food down, I am struggling to come up with good enough distractions to put a smile on his face and the security he needs.
Of course, I don’t really blame breastfeeding for this situation. My baby is sick for the first time and I’m having to learn how to see him in pain, to accept that I can’t just wave a wand and make it better, to understand that sometimes all I’ll be able to do is hold his hand and clean up after him.
Today more than ever though I am grateful for all my family – my parents and my in laws. I’m grateful that I’m not in Yorkshire going through this alone and I’m humbled by the thousands of single parents out there who do have to stick it alone.
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