Mother’s milk, time-tested for millions of years, is the best nutrient for babies because it is nature’s perfect food.  - Robert S. Mendelsohn

All the printed materials I have read about breastfeeding  revealed the secrets of successful breastfeeding. There seemed to be some absolutely important tips to adhere to.  I kept coming across the phrase ‘demand feeding’. Simply translated this means feeding the baby as and when he cries for as long as he wants to. 

Then there is the ‘no dummy’ phrase.  This means do not give the dummy even when your baby cries after being breastfed for two hours straight.  You risk a reduction in your milk supply. Reading further on, I discovered the ‘ no supplementary formula’ phrase.  This means throwing away all the pre bought formula milk into the bin and be prepared to have nights of short naps instead of deep slumbers.  Formula will also greatly compromise the mother’s milk supply.       

The next tip is my absolute favourite.  It read ‘relax as much as you can.’  This was my big escape from doing mundane jobs around the house. Apparently breastfeeding mums need a lot of rest and sleep, and housework is the main culprit for causing stress and tiredness.  I eagerly bookmarked that page to highlight to my spouse.

I had successfully breastfed Brian, my third child for nine months.  That was three years ago, and I was three years younger then.  I thought it would be a good idea to give myself a refresher course.
  
I absorbed everything with great reverence, memorising every single detail. I read everything about breastfeeding before the birth of my child.  I wanted to be ready when the baby comes.  

The baby came on time.  He wriggled and squirmed in my arms despite being wrapped tightly.  I nervously held him against me. My first thought was how warm he felt. I was a mum for the fourth time but that fact does nothing to quell the tight knot in my stomach.   I looked at him and smiled.  He had not had any milk since his birth for more than half a day now.  But he was still a happy baby.  He didn’t start yelling yet.  And I let him be, being tired out after a hard labour.  It was his father’s insistence that prompted me to feed him even in his happy mood.  He didn’t want his boy to die of starvation, he said.  What about me after a long labour, I sulked.  Well, that’s another story altogether.     

I pushed the nipple as far in as possible into the baby’s mouth.  I’ve had enough experience to know the pains of sore and cracked nipples.   The best way around these problems was to prevent them.  Also at hand, I had ready a tube of nursing cream. 

At first the baby hesitated, and then, he began to suckle as if he had done it countless of times. That was the beginning of our breastfeeding affair.

Like everything in life, the journey was hardest in the beginning.  It was the lack of sleep and the long nights of nursing that left me fatigued and emotionally stressed. 

It would take all my determination and will power and every single morsel of energy in my overdrawn fatigue being to offer the baby the breast every time he cried. 

I am going to quit today, I tell myself.  I was constantly tempted to give in and give up.  When I was at the end of the rope, I would pick up a book explaining the benefits of breast milk.  I imagined all the wonderful colostrum and antibodies and DHA he was getting from the breast milk.  This was a good time to try the visualisation techniques I learnt from an Anthony Robbins seminar a long time ago. 

When the kind nurses were wheeling me out of the labour ward a poster of a woman breastfeeding her child caught my attention.  It shouted, Breast is best!  Every time I am about to give up, I see the poster flash in front of me, Breast is best!  Darn!  That poster won’t let me quit. 

Surely this madness of night shifts is momentary, I told myself.  I focused so much on my lack of sleep I forgot to be thankful for what I had. I looked into the mirror one morning after six weeks of nursing to discover a shadow on my right breast. Thinking nothing of this, I buttoned up my shirt.

Casually I asked my doctor regarding this when I went for my post natal checkup.  He took one look and said not good.  He told me I had a breast infection.

 “I will give you a course of strong antibiotics,” he said. “It should cure the infection.”  I watched the clock like a hawk, never missing my dose of antibiotics. 

It’s perfectly safe to continue breastfeeding, he told me.  I did just that but I didn’t complain about the long nights as much as I did before.  Instead, I kept looking at my breast to see if it had healed.   

The breast did heal just as the doctor said it would.  I loosened up a little and sighed a lot less regarding my topsy turvy sleeping schedule.  The baby didn’t seem to mind the taste of the medication as he continued to nurse perfectly well. 

Three weeks after the infection incident, I noticed again some abnormality in my right breast.  Not again, I said nervously.  I went to my doctor once again.  He checked and told me there were blocked milk ducts this time around. 

These cleared too after taking medication.  I drew in a long breath and exhaled with great relief when the breast was no longer blocked.  I would have to go under the knife if the blockage persisted.  

Despite these blockages, I continued nursing and stopped complaining altogether about everything else. 

In between these two major incidents I was plagued with runny and blocked nose, fevers, body aches and headaches.  My school going boys kept bringing these different strains of flu virus home besides their homework. 
  
Once, I nursed the baby while my body was burning up.  I was running a fever of thirty nine degrees Celsius.  I held little Simon close to me as he nursed.  He did not fuss being in contact with his mother’s heated skin nor did he indicate any distaste for the breast milk tainted with medication.  I was happy that he was a happy baby. 

The nights did get better.  Baby Simon was two months old when he found a rhythm of his own.  Instead of waking up every hour, he would sleep for three to four hours at nights nowadays before waking up for a feed.  And that is enough for me to stay sane and be of some use to my other children.    

I functioned like a regular person once again.  I started brushing my teeth and combing my hair in the mornings.  This must be what heaven feels like, I tell myself. 

We are into our fifth month of breastfeeding now.  Both of us are more relaxed and make a great team now after what feels like endless days and nights of trying.  Some days I look at my baby and say, you are a junkie baby today.  Mummy ate junk food for lunch.  Other days I tell him, you are a vegetarian today.  And most days he is a coffee drinking baby.  Of course the best part of all these is he doesn’t mind at all what he eats and is always smiling.    

There is always plenty of time to sit and think when I nurse the baby.  Sometimes but not always, I try to uncover the one factor to successful breastfeeding.  Perhaps the prelude to all the knowledge you will ever need to know about breastfeeding is the desire.  It is the deep desire within to breastfeed your baby that will lead to successful breastfeeding. 

In the beginning, at the end of each day I felt triumphant having nursed my child.  We did it today, I would tell little Simon.  Of course, that hospital poster helped me when I was at my lowest point.  Breast is best!  Indeed it is.