Before you dive into this entry, I'm throwing caution into wind. This is not for the squeamish. I had every intention of sitting down to write about something pretty simple. But, in usual form, my thoughts turned at the fork in the road, and before I knew it, I ended up in the delivery room during labor with my second child. It's was an exquisite moment in my life, beautiful beyond description. But I get that these things are highly relative, so you know. Consider yourself warned. And do what ya gotta do.
Ok, so... I can't help but wonder why my right breast is the preferred one. I mean, why is it the right one? The left one will do, but when it counts, the right one's the right one. My 1st baby felt the same way. Is it the way I hold them, with a better snuggle on that side? Does the right one flow better? Is the cereal I had this morning in the left, and the banana I had in the right? Ha! Yeah, "banana, please.". Is it that my right side is the dominant one? While I'm ambidextrous, I lean towards my right in physical strength. Maybe that's why?
It can't be because our first latch-ons after birth were on the right, because I deliberately started on my left when my 2nd baby was born. And how I was able to remember my plan for starting him on a different breast only moments after I pushed him out, still baffles me. Seriously, I remember having a bona fide mental break down in the last minutes before he came out. A was hysterical in panic, freaking out. Like... yeah. Melt down. Then suddenly, my midwife cried, "take your baby!". "Wha?? Do what?", the voice in my head said. I nearly died from the intensity, I swear. Then I heard it in my head - like the directive registered in my brain. And I did exactly what she told me to do. I had my hands tucked under his armpits. On top of his blue shoulders bobbed his blue head, his eyes swollen shut, skin glossy, mouth grimaced. I didn't know he was a boy yet, cause only half of his torso was out. Then I pulled him out of me... and onto. my. belly. Then... silence. My ears rang from the adrenaline. A baby boy. He looked into my eyes. He cried heartily. I felt no pain. Hysteria left the room in a vacuum. Then, just moments later, I positioned him on the left side of my chest and waited for him to signal his interest in suckling on my left breast. He did shortly after. He was beautiful. He stayed on my chest for a long time. They measured him in at 8 lbs 8 ounces. And I measured in a changed woman.
I still can't believe we did that. I can't believe that's my birth story. Well, part of it anyway. I see that scene in my head often. It has been imprinted on my memory slate for the rest of my days.
So, here we are, 5 months later today - and having my baby boy feels... just right.
Ok, so... I can't help but wonder why my right breast is the preferred one. I mean, why is it the right one? The left one will do, but when it counts, the right one's the right one. My 1st baby felt the same way. Is it the way I hold them, with a better snuggle on that side? Does the right one flow better? Is the cereal I had this morning in the left, and the banana I had in the right? Ha! Yeah, "banana, please.". Is it that my right side is the dominant one? While I'm ambidextrous, I lean towards my right in physical strength. Maybe that's why?
It can't be because our first latch-ons after birth were on the right, because I deliberately started on my left when my 2nd baby was born. And how I was able to remember my plan for starting him on a different breast only moments after I pushed him out, still baffles me. Seriously, I remember having a bona fide mental break down in the last minutes before he came out. A was hysterical in panic, freaking out. Like... yeah. Melt down. Then suddenly, my midwife cried, "take your baby!". "Wha?? Do what?", the voice in my head said. I nearly died from the intensity, I swear. Then I heard it in my head - like the directive registered in my brain. And I did exactly what she told me to do. I had my hands tucked under his armpits. On top of his blue shoulders bobbed his blue head, his eyes swollen shut, skin glossy, mouth grimaced. I didn't know he was a boy yet, cause only half of his torso was out. Then I pulled him out of me... and onto. my. belly. Then... silence. My ears rang from the adrenaline. A baby boy. He looked into my eyes. He cried heartily. I felt no pain. Hysteria left the room in a vacuum. Then, just moments later, I positioned him on the left side of my chest and waited for him to signal his interest in suckling on my left breast. He did shortly after. He was beautiful. He stayed on my chest for a long time. They measured him in at 8 lbs 8 ounces. And I measured in a changed woman.
I still can't believe we did that. I can't believe that's my birth story. Well, part of it anyway. I see that scene in my head often. It has been imprinted on my memory slate for the rest of my days.
So, here we are, 5 months later today - and having my baby boy feels... just right.
No comments:
Post a Comment