Fertile Imagination

Transformative Power of Birth

Welcome to The Breastfeeding Cafe Carnival!

This post was written as part of The Breastfeeding Cafe’s Carnival. For more info on the Breastfeeding Cafe, go to www.breastfeedingcafe.wordpress.com. For more info on the Carnival or if you want to participate, contact Claire at clindstrom2 {at} gmail {dot} com. Today’s post is about birth experiences and breastfeeding. Please read the other blogs in today’s carnival listed below and check back for more posts July 18th through the 31st!

Getting our nursing 'issues' ironed out

The more I learn about the world of mothering, the more I recognize that a woman’s birth experience has effects that extend way past the actual event. I see that feelings of disappointment, fear or powerlessness within the context of the birth itself have great power over what happens next. Depending on the basic ‘stuff’ of the mother, those feelings could resurface as a lack of confidence within the breastfeeding relationship (‘I don’t know what I’m doing…’I must be doing it wrong’…’the baby doesn’t like my milk’) or it might spur someone to make up for it – just powering through whatever obstacles are put in her way IN SPITE of the birth experience.

My 8 1/2 pound chunk

I’m a bit of a pushover by nature. My husband calls me ‘Midwestern Nice.’ But this natural predisposition toward not-making-waves is intensified by the fact that we live in a foreign country where my command of the launguage is ’casual’ at best.  Unable to REALLY convey my thoughts exactly or to the depth that I would be able to in English, I lack confidence when I speak.  Even my speaking voice is smaller, as if to subconsciously suggest to the listener -  ‘what I’m actually saying to you is but a pale version of what it would’ve been otherwise…don’t bother listening.’ Add unto that the pain of childbirth and I couldn’t put a sentence together to save my life let alone advocate for myself at the birth.

After the birth, though, I was transformed. Whereas I’m inclined to be a wimp on matters pertaining to me, with regard to my daughter – I was fierce and completely shocked by it. And when Blanka didn’t seem interested in nursing or we had some trouble latching on in the first 24 hours (probably all normal but I worried about it anyway), I persevered like crazy because it was important for her and thus it became all-important to me. So much so that when a nursing session was interrupted by a nurse who came to our room to weigh the babies, I shewed her away – don’t call me, I’ll call you. I thought, ‘Who is this woman? This can’t be me…’ but sister, it was! I felt that since the birth had been out of my hands, I would be damned if the care of my daughter would be too.

Here are more posts by the Breastfeeding Cafe Carnival participants! Check back because more will be added throughout the day.

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