Booooooobs

I've been wanting to mention my breastfeeding experience, but I feel like it requires it's own post.

For as long as I can remember, I had been excited to get pregnant, (besides for obvious reasons) "so my boobs will get bigger".  Anyone who has ever seen me can understand that.  During my pregnancy, I thought "YES! the time has come".  I listened to pregnant friends tell me that they're already up 2 bra sizes at 6 months pregnant.  I was so excited, waiting for my new boobs to arrive...and waiting...  Nope.  I wore the same 'ol A-cup bras during my entire pregnancy.  Towards the end, my belly stuck out so far past my boobs that I looked like a pregnant little boy.  Even the *very limited amt* of XS maternity clothes were too big in the boobage.  I'm not gonna lie, many times I questioned whether or not I'd even be able to breastfeed.  My poor baby was going to starve.

After Gwen was born, I realized that breastfeeding is one of the most unnatural natural things in the world.  I didn't know what the hell I was doing, Gwen didn't know what the hell she was doing, but we were going to figure it out together.  By the time we left the hospital we actually felt pretty good about it.  Well, except for the excruciating pain and the fact that by the time I finished feeding, it was just about time to feed again (babies always lose weight in the first couple of days until mom's milk comes in, and once it does you have to feed on-demand furiously trying to get her back up to her birth weight by the 2 week Dr appointment).  Well holy crap, remember what I said before about thinking Gwen would starve?  Boy, was I wrong.  By her 2 week appointment she was over a pound heavier than when she left the hospital.  I was thrilled because seriously, it was hard work!  In the first 2 months, I fed her for over 208 hours! (don't think I'm weird, I have an app on my phone that kept track)  That's over FIVE FULL WORK WEEKS of just constant feeding in a 2 month period.  What the shit.  No wonder my nipples felt like they had been scraped against concrete and I winced in pain every time she latched on.  *note: Anyone reading this who is planning on BFing or has just started, I swear, it gets a lot less painful (actually, painless) after the first 3 weeks.*

We had one big setback very early on, where we gave her a pacifier after we had run out of ideas to stop her from crying (which worked), but after that it was like she literally forgot how to breastfeed.  The dreaded Nipple Confusion: contrary to what Gwen's pediatrician told us, most certainly DOES exist.  I spent hours trying to teach her again from scratch.  Luckily, by the next day we were back in business.

As challenging as it was in the beginning, I can say that I'm truly happy we chose to breastfeed her.  I say "we" because I know it would've been much more difficult if it wasn't for Justin's encouragement.  He has been an awesome and much needed support system throughout, and I doubt I could've stuck with it without him.  During the weeks that he took off of work, he was up at night with us for every single feeding so he could change her diaper.  It's funny, but I don't think I even changed one of her diapers for the first 2 days of her life because Justin took charge of it since he (obviously) couldn't help with the feeding.

I'm still exclusively breastfeeding Gwen now, which I'm very proud of because I know that even though it was a challenge in the beginning, it's the best thing for her.  It's amazing to me that she is growing so fast solely off of what my body produces for her.  Most of all, I love the fact that I get to look down at these eyes, while they look up at me.