Let’s flashback to a cold morning in February. Not bitterly bone chilling cold, thank goodness, but just above the freezing mark. The snow that fell a few days ago melted a bit by then on the sidewalk but remained in the grass. The first blizzard of the season was to hit at night so we figured our late morning doctors appointment was still okay with a 5 & 4 year old and 1 1/2 month old on public transportation. My husband and I figured we’d all be able to get lunch afterwards as well.
As we were waiting for the bus to head back home, the snow began to fall. Not a sprinkling of snow, oh no, we were gifted the blizzard earlier than expected. I had our 1 1/2 month old in a carrier on my chest underneath my winter coat because he hated strollers, car seats or even being away from my body at one point. (Yes, there was plenty of space available for him to breathe properly, stay warm and not overheat.)
A bus to train to bus trip that would normally take 40 minutes became an almost 2 hour trip to travel home. After waiting in a cold bus station for 20 minutes while the blizzard got more intense outside, the bus finally showed up! We were literally shaking in our boots!
With just 10 minutes left on the bus Cillian finally starts to stir awake but not even bouncing my leg or rocking side to side could get him to settle. I was in no position to breastfeed him as the biggest mission was to then walk (a normally 5 minute walk) home in a complete white out storm. Goggles and skis were just about necessary at that point for travel.
As difficult as it was we powered through it, thanks to our angels. Cillian cried the entire short walk though out of HUNGER, not the chill or desperation like I almost did. If he could’ve breastfed as we trekked home I’m definitely sure he would’ve. That storm has been the only thing to ever stand in his way of getting food.
This current breastfeeding journey has been the most difficult one I’ve had to face with multiple bouts of mastitis and feeling drained more than I’d like, especially with 2 older kids who need my attention as well. When Cillian was a newborn and I was recovering the epidural complications, I was in so much pain that nursing became even harder. It was my mission to push myself through the pain because I knew how rewarding breastfeeding would be for him and for me as well. There are instances when I hold him close even tighter because I know he is my last little babe and before long he’ll be walking, talking and off to school like his siblings.