Breastfeeding Bites. And So Will Your Baby.
If you hate to read, just click on the audio link, below. But don’t miss the adorable baby photos at the very bottom of this page!
Ah, the heavenly joys of breastfeeding. A small helpless infant, suckling at your breast, while fairies float by and Disney music tinkles in the background…
Wha-? Oh, excuse me. I must have fallen asleep reading The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding.
Truth hurts. And so does breastfeeding. At least for the first week. The first few weeks. Hey, for many of us, the first few months are sheer terror, if we even make it that far. I was the most unprepared for my first child’s iron lockjaw clamp on my nipples, since all I had done in preparation for having a child was taking a natural birthing class with a woman my husband & I dubbed “the Bradley Birth Nazi”. She scolded us constantly, and actually yelled at my husband once when he was having trouble understanding her. She had told us in no uncertain terms that breastfeeding was the most natural, pleasant and wonderful thing in the world.
Hey – sorry for that interruption. I just fell off my chair laughing.
Within the first few months of breastfeeding my first born, I survived two clogged milk duct infections (fever, soreness, aches, misery – coupled with just having given birth and still not having slept more than a couple hours at a time, you can guess how much fun I was having at that point), weeks of bleeding nipples (sorry, all you men who accidentally thought this blog was gender neutral. I’ll see you at the next blog, ok?); I mean, the pain each time he latched on – my nipples getting yanked, twisted and pinched by the iron vice grip that was his mouth (NO I’m not into that, perv), and the feeling that all the life force was being drained out of me every time he suckled… The Womanly Art. Indeed.
It got better. After countless nursing specialists who all threw up their hands in defeat, my son finally grew out of the nightmare gumming/nursing phase, helped along by a friend who did energy work on him. I survived the long days and the long nights of nursing hell. (Did I mention he had reflux which means he basically projectile “spit up” half the milk he drank after each feeding? My clothes from that time looked fantastic.)
I actually wound up becoming one of those champions of nursing, one of those moms who will just whip it out and serve her boy some mid day snack (UNDER the breastfeeding blanket, thank you very much… I mean ladies, come on. I’ve had 3 kids and I don’t like to see a baby sucking a bare boob while I’m ordering dinner).
My 2nd child was a great nurser from the get-go. And the 3rd? Fine at sucking, but she got a yeast infection in her mouth, tongue thick with a white paste that wouldn’t budge. The yeast made my boobs experience the worst shooting pains imaginable, at all hours of the day & night, until I finally managed to get rid of it. Twice. (Men – seriously, WHAT are you doing still reading this?? I warned you!) So, Ladies, as I was saying… I had to use this purple dye stuff – Gentian violet something or other – to kill the yeast in the end. Horrible.
Hey! G-friends? Where are you going?? I didn’t even get to the part when they start teething…!
Sheva (BatSheva Vaknin)