Breast Conundrms

I didn’t even buy formula.  I mean, how hard could breastfeeding be? Breast is best right?  It’s free, it’s easy, it helps you lose weight and it gives those all-important mammary cannons their chance to fulfil their dreams.   I had no idea why any women in her right mind wouldn’t breastfeed. I hadn’t a clue.

Once Elias was born I realised, almost immediately, that I was spectacularly mistaken. Having never had someone suck on my nipples with all the force of nine months of hunger, I didn't know what an acceptable level of pain was.  Add to this the fact that each midwife who helped me to latch Elias on was clearly rushed off her feet, and you can see why I just bit my lip, wiggled my toes and got on with it.  This was a mistake.

By night number two Righty was as cracked as a dry creek bed.  I was in trouble.  I was an all-you-can-eat buffet for two full nights and I could only feed off the left side.  My milk supply was being established in torrents and, with the weight of all that un-drunk milk, I was dangerously wonky and at risk of mastitis.

This was the beginning of my problems.  Since those early days, I can list a few more that I hope you will find entertainingly informative:

·       The puppy let down. I’d like to think my boobs were intelligent enough to only get the milk going for Elias. Wrong. Anything vaguely cute makes my breast pads sopping wet.

·        The Incredible Hulk let down.  1) Baby sucks contentedly. 2) Let down occurs. 3) Baby pulls back, unable to cope. 4) Milk squirts into Baby's face. 5)Those I’m speaking to have to pretend they haven’t seen this.

·       Losing a breast pad on the floor of an Italian restaurant – I didn’t realise until the manager picked it up and asked our table who it belonged to.

·        The sick-pool problem.  Daily, milk sick gathers in my bra.  If it’s my lucky day, this ‘thank you for feeding me’ offering will be accompanied by a burp alerting me to the immediate need to wet wipe my cleavage.  All too often I only realise at the end of the day.

·        Breast shells (google them). Just call me Wonder Woman…

·        The reusable breast pad fail.  I tried being eco. I married this with wearing Earth Mother Pale Blue and spent the afternoon pretending Elias had vomited around my breast areas.  It wasn’t really believable that he’d have such symmetrical aim.

·        The startle starfish.  1) Baby sucks contentedly.  2) Someone coughs (or makes any other noise). 3) Baby turns outwards in dramatic starfish style to grin at the producer of this unexpected noise. 4) Breast is left entirely on show and some poor gentleman has to pretend not to notice.

I laugh now but I cried (a lot) at the start. I should add, as a matter of utmost importance, that nothing beats the hilarity of being able to use your boob as a water pistol upon your unsuspecting husband.  You see, establishing breastfeeding is really, really hard and although I think it’s great that breastfeeding mums are being supported (national breastfeeding week, boobs out cafes etc.), I do feel for those who haven’t been able to breastfeed and (perhaps) have felt the need to justify their choice to breastfeeding mums. 

I only stuck at it because of an insurmountable wall of support.

Kit Jackson - I was so grateful when you came over and fed your little one next to me.  You were silently signalling to me that we had a breasts-out relationship bond; you put me at ease and lent me all your breastfeeding paraphernalia.  My midwife arrived at 8.30 am on my day number four (emotional tsunami day), let me cry on her and then diagnosed Elias with a tongue-tie.  I had a breastfeeding support worker (Rachel Wooltorton) who taught me the technicalities before Elias was born and came to my house after he was born to check the latch. I have a supportive family who did everything they could to make sure I didn't feel awkward over Christmas, despite my boobs being out for a good 75% of the day – ho, ho, ho.

Over the last six months, because of this support, Elias and I have transitioned from fractious food fights to classy dining. However, the bigger change has been in my attitude to how mums feed their babies.  Knowing how hard it can be, I feel strongly that bottle-feeding mums should stop explaining why they aren’t breastfeeding. Support for breastfeeding is great, but ultimately, emotional well-being trumps the breast is best drive. 

My conclusion to these ramblings: power to the feeders, each and every one.