First, i tried the cradle hold. The hold that is immortalized in paintings such as "The virgin with the green pillow" by 16th century painter Solario. One has got to reason that if the hold's been around for at least 500 years, it has to work, right? Well. Not so much for us endowed breastfeeders. Unknowingly I had entered the boobmuda triangle. The desire and commitment to breastfeed, but the lack of knowledge on how to do so.
To my rescue came not a shiny knight in armour (and let's be frank, who wants knights in armour when you're just pushed out a bouncing watermelon size child through your lady bits, after sweating and swearing for 26 hours? Not me!) but rather a Lactation Consultant who took one look at me, one look at my husband and introduced us to each other all over again. "Wife, meet husband. Husband, meet wife. Together you are now going to feed your child!"
Wait, what?
"You, you and you, cutie pattotie (not the husband, thankfully), are now a feeding Triad. Congratulations!"
The Lactation Consultant Goddess handed our son to my husband, handed a stack of pillows to me and got us set up in what we both soon learned were our "positions". Me, pillows built up to support the baby and my generous mammary glands, and my husband, in charge of positioning and holding our son where he had to be until we got the act on the road.
I know, isn't simplicity awe-inspiring?!
My husband, the maker of half this child, had a role in feeding our son! A vital role, one in which you could just see him puff up in pride! And me, his loved wife, had a partner to help figure out how object A inserts into slot B while supporting objects C, D, and E.
That first time was magic. Once I was positioned, my husband brought over our son and held him in the football hold which I got lined up and latched on and then he made sure he was fully supported while I learned how to tuck his bum into my side with my elbow and cradle his head in one hand. I could not have done it solo, there were just too many things to hold onto in those early days, and worrying about dropping my brand spanking new child was not something my hormone flooded brain needed to be worried about!
We soon settled into a routine, and we all thrived by working together. My husband wasn't left to sulk in the corner while I "bonded" solo with our son. His role left him feeling involved, and needed and all the other good stuff that new Dads sometimes are missing. I loved the fact that at our son's first hint of hunger, my husband was eager to get us set up in our triade and feed his son. My Husband wasn't just any old guy - to his son he was the bringer of the food!
Those first few days flew by, as all moms know, and I soon found myself more adept at baby wrangling and tucking in arms and legs and lining up nose to nipple. Slowly my husband was able to take a step back and watch us soar high, just my son and I.
The thing was...even once I could do it all solo, my husband was so integral to our nursing relationship that he picked up other jobs. Finding my nursing pillow. Changing mid-feed diapers to help keep sleepy babies awake. Writing down feeding times and lengths to show the midwife. Tickling toes, massaging shoulders and finally just being in awe that his help had made it possible for his son to get the best start in life with a minimal stress on his wife.
I know, isn't simplicity awe-inspiring?!
Almost 4 years later, my husband still speaks proudly of our Feeding Triade. And I get to share with new dads that breastfeeding doesn't have to be all about mom and baby. They still need, and want, you.
Want to know more about Natural parenting, breastfeeding and cloth diapering? Check out one of my favourite sites, www.parentingbynature.com
and www.ecobabysteps.com
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