The last month has been my roughest yet in nearly three years of nursing. So bad, in fact, I’ve contemplated shutting down shop after 34 months of mass milk production.
I have treasured my breastfeeding journey. I’ve sailed through periods of exclusive breastfeeding, extended breastfeeding, nursing through pregnancy and tandem feeding. I’m a proud, seasoned breastfeeding mother. How could one tough month have me waving the white flag?
First, it’s become blood sport: My eight-month-old has turned nursing into an acrobatic mission of twists, turns and claws. It’s as though she’s playing a solitary game of Twister and every combination starts with “mouth on nipple” (as in “mouth on nipple, bum in the air, finger in mommy’s eye”). There’s an awful lot of face-grabbing, breast scratching and nipple tugging going on these days, making it more of a wrestling match than a bonding session.
Second, I got a nipple bleb: If you have a special interest in innocuous-looking things with the ability to produce monstrous pain, look up nipple blebs. A bleb is a small callus or blister that builds over one or more of your milk ducts. It might not look like much (mine was a small white mark just half the size of a pencil eraser), but by blocking your milk flow, it’s a catalyst for fierce pain. Breastfeeding on my right side was impossible until I found a trained lactation consultant prepared to scratch it off me with a hypodermic needle. Had I waited another few hours before finding help, my over engorged breast just may have exploded (which I imagine would still be less painful than nursing through that darn bleb!)
Third, I was struck by a mystery virus: If you’ve noticed MomCloset has been rather quite lately, it’s because it’s sole contributor was struck with an incapacitating bought of cookie-tossing. I will spare you the details except to say that it included a full night of camping out inches from my toilet, unable to hold down even small sips of water. It haven’t fully recovered yet and it’s been more than a week.
I’m convinced that my milk supply hasn’t fully recovered from my dehydration – and that makes Larissa one frustrated, ever-famished diner. And I thought my nipples were overworked before!
Given these factors, I fell asleep last night with visions of formula bottles dancing in my head. But then, in the middle of the night, something unexpected happened. My baby stirred, ready to feed. I pulled her next to me, she latched and everything was …. well, peaceful and painless.
Her eyes were closed; her body was still. I heard her gulping for the first time in days, a sure sign that milk was flowing en mass once again.
As I looked down at my sleeping butter ball, I realized I can do this a little longer. I know that the day I permanently reclaim my boobs for myself is getting close … but it’s not today.
