I Have a Big Baby. Finally!
Having an infant can feel like a constant exercise is anxiety management. Even while parenting my third child, it seems like there’s often something to wonder and worry about. With my first son, my ongoing concern was his size: was he big enough? Why wasn’t he growing more? It felt like every other baby was growing in leaps and bounds and he was just limping along on his own growth curve. I, of course, worried he wasn’t eating enough. (Even though looking back, he was totally fine and a perfectly healthy weight.)
At the time, my mom said, “Breastfeeding can be difficult for a slightly anal worrywart like you because you never know exactly how much the baby is getting to eat.” She meant that in the nicest way possible and she was totally right. I had to learn to relax and trust my baby to let me know when and if he was hungry. It’s a lesson that I had to re-learn with each baby.
Because I’ve never exclusively pumped or adhered to a schedule, I have to rely on baby Max to let me know when he’s hungry or needs to eat. Of course, it’s much easier to go with the (milk) flow and relax because he is growing like a well-watered weed. He’s turning into one of those chunky babies that I envied when my first son was tiny.
I can’t believe that I finally have a big breastfed baby with cheeks begging to be pinched, multiple chins and thighs for days. I’m not going to lie: I love it. I totally admit I cracked a proud grin when the doctor commented on Max’s growth at a recent doctor’s appointment. While glancing over the growth chart he said something like, “You’re exclusively breastfeeding… Well, I that’s clearly going well.” Why, yes. Yes it is.