{"id":13917,"date":"2015-01-26T08:33:48","date_gmt":"2015-01-26T14:33:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/?p=13917"},"modified":"2015-01-26T08:33:48","modified_gmt":"2015-01-26T14:33:48","slug":"ditching-the-shield","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/2015\/20150126-13917.htm","title":{"rendered":"Ditching the Shield"},"content":{"rendered":"

Disclaimer: This post contains a frank discussion of some of the difficulties of breastfeeding a preemie. I try not to be vulgar, but I do discuss the mechanics of breastfeeding openly. If you’d rather not read, feel free to skip this post.<\/em><\/p>\n

After two half-hearted attempts to get my nipple situated in Tirzah Mae’s tiny red mouth, the nurse told me to wait right there.<\/p>\n

As if I could do anything else. The swaddled miniature in my arms was hooked to half a dozen monitors, keeping her – and me – tightly bound to our recliner.<\/p>\n

I tried again, squeezing breast tissue between thumb and forefinger to make a “nipple sandwich”. But Tirzah Mae was looking away – and my attempt to draw her close caused my sandwich to fall apart.<\/p>\n

The nurse returned, deftly separating the cardboard insert from the back of a blister pack.<\/p>\n

“Here.” She handed me a clear silicone nipple with small holes on the end. “Your nipples are too big for her to latch onto.”<\/p>\n

I thought about protesting. We’d barely tried to latch Tirzah Mae on – and nipple shields, I knew, were not without risks. But they’d drilled home the NICU truth – we couldn’t waste calories doing unnecessary things, even things like latching her on at the breast.<\/p>\n

So that was that. <\/p>\n

\n

A week later, a different nurse asked me how breastfeeding was going as she weighed Tirzah Mae before a breastfeeding session. <\/p>\n

I explained that we were using a shield, but that it was going okay with that.<\/p>\n

I heard myself in her voice, urging me to try to latch on without the shield.<\/p>\n

I nodded halfheartedly, just like my clients do when I make the same suggestion. <\/p>\n

“You don’t understand,” I thought. “I only get to breastfeed once a day and that for only thirty minutes. I can’t waste our precious time trying to get her latched.”<\/p>\n

And the frustration at NICU policies caught up to me – scheduled feedings that were spaced too far apart for my infant daughter who was clearly hungry, crying and eating her fists after just two and a half hours, being able to breastfeed only once a day, having breastfeeding timed and with before and after weights constantly measuring our performance. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks and I was thankful for the dimmed lights that hid my anger.<\/p>\n

\n

Once we had Tirzah Mae home, Daniel asked me occasionally how it was going – practicing without the shield. <\/p>\n

I loved him for internalizing my antipathy towards the shield – and hated him for rushing me.<\/p>\n

Practicing wasn’t easy. Tirzah Mae would become angry that milk wasn’t already flowing. I became impatient with her anger. I was tired, drained from long nights with little sleep and days where nothing got done.<\/p>\n

It was so much effort to go without the crutch.<\/p>\n

I cursed the nurse who gave it to us, who got us hooked on its subtle evil. I blamed her, crying stormily, as I fumbled with the shield with sleep-numbed hands. As it fell off – once, twice, five times. <\/p>\n

Tirzah Mae grew angry with the wait and Daniel woke up to her wail. I blamed the nurse when Daniel complained of being unfocused at work the next day.<\/p>\n

\n

But we kept practicing, first once a week then more and more frequently.<\/p>\n

We’re almost done with it, Tirzah Mae and I. <\/p>\n

I never take it when we go out. I never use it when we’re breastfeeding around the house. It stays in the basket beside the bed, only to be used if Tirzah Mae’s too frustrated to latch after a few tries at night. <\/p>\n

We’re on our way to losing the shield. <\/p>\n

Good riddance, I say.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Disclaimer: This post contains a frank discussion of some of the difficulties of breastfeeding a preemie. I try not to be vulgar, but I do discuss the mechanics of breastfeeding openly. If you’d rather not read, feel free to skip this post. After two half-hearted attempts to get my nipple situated in Tirzah Mae’s tiny … Read more Ditching the Shield<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0},"categories":[1340],"tags":[1346,194],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13917"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13917"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13917\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13920,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13917\/revisions\/13920"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13917"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13917"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/bekahcubed.menterz.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13917"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}