August is National Breastfeeding Month. Every mother knows or at least has been informed about the benefits of breastfeeding:

• For the baby, it is a complete source of nutrition containing the correct balance of fat, sugar, water, and protein.
• It contains antibodies that help build the baby’s immune system and protect them from several viruses and certain forms of bacteria.
• For the mom, breastfeeding help burn extra calories making it easier to lose the weight she gained during pregnancy.
• It lowers the mom’s risk of getting breast and ovarian cancers.
• It’s cheaper than bottle feeding and is readily available.
• The list of benefits goes on and on and on…

Yet, with all the benefits that nursing provides, there are some down sides to it. Nobody talks about the pain the mother suffers from engorged breasts, improper latching, clogged milk ducts, etc. There is also the initial frustration felt by the mother as she learns the ins and outs of nursing, i.e., correctly holding the baby, finding which position works best for both her and the baby, etc. Given time most of the ailments are remedied as the mother gains more experience with nursing. However, there is one pitfall to nursing that I find hard to deal with, at least for the first couple of months of the baby’s life… being the sole provider of nutrition.

Don’t get me wrong. I love nursing. I nursed Aidan till he was nine months old and Mark till he was 11 months. And, I plan to nurse my baby girl for as long as I can. What gets to me is that during the first couple of months, while the babies are exclusively breastfed, I have no freedom. Because nobody else is equipped to nurse the baby but myself, I feel imprisoned; strapped to my nursing chair at odd hours of the day and night, feeding, burping, and changing the baby. Sure, I can pump some milk out and have William feed the baby, but pumping is a lot of work. Not only does it take time from an already busy schedule, it can sometimes lead to engorged breast because now the body thinks the baby needs more milk and starts producing more.

This frustration coupled with exhaustion due to the lack of sleep and having to care for a newborn and a 21 month old, not to mention the sight of my husband sleeping soundly while I tried to burp Mark and put him back to sleep so that I could try to get some rest, made me snap last year. I angrily yelled at William, “I don’t know how you managed to convince me to have another baby,” picked up Mark, and stormed out the room. I felt horrible as soon as the words came out of my mouth and have been plagued with guilt ever since. How could I have said such a horrible thing? What kind of mother am I? Was I an atrocious mother for saying such a thing?

It wasn’t until recently, after reading the You Can Breastfeed article in the August 2007 issue of Baby Talk magazine that I started to come to terms with the comment I made a little over a year ago. I love my baby boy. I don’t ever regret the decision I made to have him, but fatigue, the feeling of being “tied to the clock,” and anger that William was able to get a decent night sleep while I couldn’t, led to my break down.

William had no idea what demon had gotten into me and that was my fault. How could he? Trying to be the dutiful wife, I tried to make life easy for him by shouldering most of the burden of baby rearing. I never told him how tired and frustrated I was feeling, and I tried as hard as I could not to ask for help. Of course he helped out whenever he could but I needed more from him and I never voiced it. I figured that he could read my mind and would eventually come to my aid. Boy was I wrong! Like every normal human being, husbands are not mind readers. They need to be told if there is something you want from them.

I have learned my lesson and I think time has made me a little bit wiser. I don’t want a repeat of my stupid actions from last year. I already know that there is no way I am going to be able to handle taking care of three infants all by myself. So I have warned William… I told him that I need him to be more proactive this time around and help me out as much as he can. I’m also going to try not to be so bashful about asking him for help. After all, how can I be a dutiful wife and a super mom if I am tired, frustrated, and angry at the world?

In conclusion, here is my advice to all the moms and moms-to-be out there (especially those who are nursing or choose to nurse their child), who may find themselves in a similar situation: If you want to enjoy the time you spend with you baby, if years from now you want to look back at the time you spent with you baby without any regret for what you had said or done, IF YOU WANT TO BE A SUPER MOM, then don’t hesitate to ask for and accept help. It’s the only way you can get through these often trying times with your sanity in check.