And yet another Betsy & Summer production….
Another side of breastfeeding:
~~~~~~~
We know, we know. We’ll say it before you do. Breastfeeding provides your baby with all the best nutrients-nutrients that formula can’t possibly mimic. It’s a bonding experience with your baby. It gives your baby immunities that will last his or her whole life.
But before you judge us, remember that it takes a strong (and brave) woman to put it out there and say what we’re about to.
And know we absolutely respect those who are able to do it.
It takes a special-and genetically blessed-woman to whip out her boob, sometimes in public, and feed her baby on demand. In fact, we wish it had been different for us.
After all, breastfeeding is way cheaper!
Blah, blah, blah.
At the risk of ticking off the entire La Leche League and scores of Dr. Sears attachment parenting advocates, we’re going to say it out loud:
Breastfeeding Can Suck It.
My (Summer’s) experience with breastfeeding was a painful one.
Painful in my ever-growing boobs, and even more painful in my heart.
I tried, oh how I tried.
Trust me, I did not want to warrant any evil looks or risk having my diaper bag egged for whipping out the “F” word.
FORMULA.
Oh yes, I said it.
But hear me out.
Once you hear the dramatic tale, you will want to rub my back and buy me dinner.
Even you, La Leche Leaguers!
My dear boy was a hungry one.
So hungry, in fact, that he wanted to suck the nipple right off, possibly in hopes that it would provide an endless supply of milk.
It was, needless to say, excruciating.
Every time he latched on, I suddenly found myself with a mild case of Tourret’s, yelling “SH*!” or “F!&$!”
Along with some other expletives that a Christian Momma should not be saying around her newborn. My sister and I used to joke that his first word could quite possibly be the “F” word, and in this case I don’t mean FORMULA.
So, I did what every new mom does.
I took it to the guru of all gurus.
The lovely Eve, Queen of all Lactation Consultants.
I was told by many that she was the “OZ” of the breastfeeding world.
She was the one with the answers.
She would solve my problems.
About five minutes into my consultation, she asked me to whip it out and show her what I had been doing.
As I ever so slowly revealed my dangling nipple, I heard a gasp.
Eve’s face was pale.
And as quickly as she asked me to whip it out, she this time asked me to put it away.
And then I heard what I never thought a lactation consultant could say.
“My dear, never ever nurse on those things again.”
It was all I needed to hear.
What came next was music to my ears:
“In all my 30 years of doing this, I have never seen such intense nipple damage!”
Oh yes, it was bad.
But I had been so determined to make it work that I was going to lose a nipple for the cause.
Also, one thing to know about a dangling nipple: it causes infection.
Or better named, mastitis.
Four times in four months.
Nipple loss + mastitis = post partum depression.
But I managed to marry my pump for better or worse for another three months, until I came to the resolve that I had done all I could.
I said to “F” with it.
And by “F” I mean “formula.”
Freaking Fantastic Formula.
And that is why I say, Breastfeeding Can Just Suck It.
{for me!}
Betsy, take it away.
Like Summer, I (Betsy) tried to nurse.
I really, really did. I actually had the lofty goal of making it nine months.
I believed that anything less would be a failure.
And for that, I blame the Nursing Nazis.
(You know who they are.)
For some reason, all the crazies come out of the woodwork when you have a baby.
Case in point: Right after my daughter, Lily, was born, I answered the door to greet a home nurse who was wearing a lanyard that read, “Breastfed babies are the happiest babies.”
I had red, bleeding nipples, but I was determined to give my daughter only the best, so I let this Nursing Nazi manhandle me and instruct me on proper latching techniques.
“Has she had any formula in the last week?” the milkmaid asked me.
“Well, maybe two ounces. Just to give myself a break,” I said timidly.
The milkmaid gave me a disapproving look and said, “Hmmph. Well, instead of giving her formula, you should take Vicodin so you can nurse through the pain.”
Excuse me?
You’d rather have me drug my newborn baby by taking one of the most powerful painkillers on the market instead of giving her a few ounces of formula?
What kind of crazy is that?
Actually, it’s the kind of crazy that will make you consciously subject your boobs, again and again, to a hunger of a pint-size piranha.
That will make you think that it’s necessary to walk around the house without a bra or shirt so that your nipples can “breathe.”
That will compel you to go through tubes and tubes of lanolin in a misguided effort to “soothe.”
This is why I tell every newly pregnant woman about the nipple shield, God’s greatest invention.
Better to get it before the baby comes than to have to send your husband to Target in the dead of night, telling him to look for something you’ve vaguely described as “some nipple thing” while you and the baby are both at home screaming.
(I seriously have the best husband in the world.)
The nipple shield saved my boobs and sanity, but only for a few months.
Then, like Summer, I was hit with a nasty case of mastitis.
But did I stop? Noooo.
I kept trying to nurse every two hours even though I was shivering, clammy, and my boobs were on fire.
My milk supply was cut in half and turning a color that nature hadn’t intended.
So I did what any crazy mom would do: I took fenugreek to boost my milk supply-and kept trying even when the fenugreek gave me mastitis on the other side.
This was my breastfeeding low-point.
It was Thanksgiving, and while everyone else was downstairs feasting on turkey, I was upstairs pumping and crying.
The next day, I called a local lactation consultant, blubbering about what to do.
Believe it or not, she encouraged me to stop.
Of course, because I had a predilection for mastitis, I couldn’t stop cold turkey. I had to wean. Slowly. With cabbage leaves.
Over the course of about six weeks.
Which then made me feel like I was on house arrest, because I was hooked up to the breast pump every two hours.
Then every two hours and fifteen minutes.
Then every two and a half hours.
You get the idea.
Cabbage leaves, mastitis, and mangled nipples?
Yes.
But those aren’t the only reasons we didn’t love breastfeeding.
It’s not just the physical pain.
It’s the fact that breast milk is like Chinese food-your baby will be hungry again after an hour.
That you have no idea how much food your child is actually getting.
That no one else can feed the baby.
That your hormones will overtake you and make you feel like a failure if you don’t listen to La Leche and nurse until the child is at least five.
Speaking of crazy, you must be thinking that we should join the Witness Protection Program after writing this article.
But, no, dear sisters.
We say it loud and we say it proud.
Because we just know there are some of you out there who feel just as we do.
And it’s okay.
We still love our babies.
They are still happy and healthy, and witty and pretty.
So, lets all join hands and say it together:
“BREASTFEEDING CAN JUST SUCK IT.”
{for those of us with dangling bleeding mastitis ridden boobies/nipples}
On the other hand….
for those of you it works for….
Breast IS Best.
xoxo
© 2012 “Le Musings of Moi”
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First, let me say that I’m for happy babies and happy mommies. Good on you for choosing the best option for you and your baby. However, what always ticks me off about these types of posts is how authors ask not to be judged whIle simultaneously judging others. I took Vicodin during my recovery because my nether regions hurt like heck. It’s perfectly safe to take while breast feeding. My nipples were cracked and bleeding, too. The latch hurt like a – insert a string of curse words here. But, it worked itself out and I’m happy I’m able to breast feed my baby – In fact, I’m doing it right now! I wish moms would just say, “Hey, I did what was best for me and my baby” instead of feeling like they need to criticize other courses of action. I think we can all agree that this mom thing is HARD. Let’s stick together!