Friday, June 26, 2015
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Breastfeeding: Please Don't Confuse Me Doing it With Liking it
So, here's my thing. I am DONE breastfeeding (WAY done). However, I never got the chance to write about it. I figure there is no time like the present (because Piper is sleeping at this moment) so here goes:
The first time I cried about my boobs, I was 13. A
girl in my class announced that I was flat-chested and my crush sitting beside
her couldn't help but laugh and agree. It was pretty earth shattering stuff. So
earth shattering in fact, that before bed that night, I went home and PRAYED TO
GOD for boobs. I kid you not. I begged the big man for knockers. It seemed
reasonable at the time.
The next time I cried over my boobs would be about
17 years later, after the birth of my daughter. For me, the decision to
breastfeed was a no brainer. My Grandma had done it. My Mom had done it. My
sister had done it. I would obviously do it. People say it's better for the
baby and that it is so "natural". Besides, it would totally help me lose the baby weight.
Right? Totally. It would also help form the most special bond between Mommy and
baby and having just gone through years of infertility, I was beyond ready. Who
wouldn’t be?!
The first time I threw my daughter on the boob was
about 5 seconds after giving birth to her and she ate easily for 20 minutes. I
instantly connected with my inner cave woman. It really was so natural! Breastfeeding was my bitch!
However, that first feeding would be the last easy
one for the next five weeks. Every day was the same. Excruciating pain and
undeniable dread filled me. Every time she cried for food, I cried for my
boobs. They hurt SO freaking much. My daughter had an insatiable hunger and a shallow latch that even with the use of
my own personal lactation consultant and a nipple shield (which I used for 5
whole weeks, by the way), did not help the pain. Not to mention the milk
blisters and severe pain of engorgement. I
was so overwhelmed and couldn’t help but feel very alone.
All day, my thoughts screamed, "How is
something so natural, SO FREAKING PAINFUL?!" and "WHY GOD,
WHY?!" and "I’M GOING TO KILL EVERYONE WHO TOLD ME THIS WAS
EASY!"
Staying inside all day to be a food machine was
hard on my mental state but going out in public did not help matters. My
daughter was not a calm baby. The best way to comfort her was with a big dose
of warm boob milk but the
struggle get her latched on was ridiculous. One day at brunch, it literally looked like I was
wrestling a squealing baby pig underneath my hooter hider. How did these women
do it? What was the damn secret? Everyday I became increasingly miserable for
dreading the beautiful miracle of boob food.
The last and final kicker came when breastfeeding
did not yield the model-like weight loss results that every stupid article
everywhere told me it would. No, but thanks for the endless articles on it, world. Really, thank you. Breastfeeding may make some girls super slim but
breastfeeding made me HUNGRY. And even if my diet was awesome and filled with
organic everything - eating an entire organic pizza is no way to get ready for
a non-maternity wardrobe. In fact, a few weeks after I stopped breastfeeding
completely, I lost 5 pounds with ease.
Now, I'm not saying not to breastfeed. No way! I
did it for 8ish months (emphasis on the “ish”) and I'm so insanely proud of
that (emphasis on the "insane"). But I wish I had more realistic
expectations going into it. I can't lie and say that it was magical for me. It
wasn't. Sure, I had good moments throughout – like not having to make bottles
in the middle of the night and the
exceptionally cuddly days - but that was really it.
Mostly, it was a hassle that wreaked havoc
on my mind and body. To me, nobody should have to see their nipples crack, turn
bright red or wake up in a pool of milk night after night after they’ve just
been pregnant for the better part of a year. They shouldn't feel trapped to
their couch or like there is no use in putting on a tank top that doesn't
already have breast milk residue lingering.
I wasn’t the biggest fan but I did it and would I
do it again? Yes, because my body allows it and science tells me it's good for
my kid. I'm all about taking one for the team but this time I would know that
not everyone is a mush ball over this bonding experience. Even when
it gets easy (which, I swear it does) it isn't necessarily rainbows and puppy
cuddles. It's a constant, never ending job and that's OKAY.
Every child is different; every mother is
different. So even if I roll my eyes before grabbing my boppy and breastfeeding
my child, please don't judge. I love my daughter and if anything, breastfeeding
has just made me enjoy the stages AFTER even more.
xoxo
L
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Monday, June 15, 2015
17 weeks!
Well, we've made it far enough to get a bump, so I guess I'll post. Aaaaah, still kind of refusing to believe this is real.
I'm 17 weeks here and my friend is 33!
Feeling: sad about no kicks or flutters yet, but excited for my early anatomy scan tomorrow!!!
Symptoms: body acne! It's terrible. Poor sleep. But no heartburn this time and like I said before, no kicks. Hopefully soon:)
Craving: cream cheese and pb/j sandwiches.
Xoxo
L
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