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1st Trimester
2nd Trimester
3rd Trimester
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When breastfeeding isnt plain sailing
Before my first baby was born in 1989, I steeped myself in Sheila Kitzinger. I understood the importance of feeding soon after birth, and did so, falling in love with Maud just as she began to suck. I was au fait with gathering the nipple up like a Dorothy bag and stuffing it into her placid jaws. A passing midwife commented, You were obviously born to do that. Over the next 10 days another midwife came to visit and weigh her Maud lost very little weight and was soon gaining.
When Archie was born three years later, there was no soreness and the nipples were still in full battle order. By the end of the first week he was a whole pound heavier.
It was a different story with Tolly, born a few months ago. He weighed 8lbs 3oz (3710g) at birth, a well-grown, plump baby. I latched him on in the prescribed fashion, but he wasnt too interested. During night two, it was a different story he wanted to suck all night. Against all advice about not letting the baby use you as a dummy, I let him.
By morning I was very sore. I rubbed on some cream. It made no difference. My nipples looked red and rough. Feeding started to become agony. I had to do it every three hours, and I dreaded it. He fought the nipple, jumping on and off, but seemed willing to suck anything else.
Then the milk came in, just when far too many visitors had come to admire him. As time passed, it got worse. My right nipple seemed to be missing several layers of skin at its peak, while my left had a deep crack in the side that opened when he fed. When he was sick frequently blood poured out of his mouth. Like a Masai warrior, he was taking a mixture of blood and milk with every feed.
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