Saturday, 25 September 2010

Dairy Queen


Yesterday morning I was hunched over a jam jar, massaging my breast so that with each little droplet of milk I released, my pain would be eased.

"I know this is really unattractive..." I say to Bushman, who is possibly so deeply traumatised by the birth experience that I could cut of my own leg in front of him and he wouldn't flinch.

"....but these breasts are so painful"

I really cannot believe that I am doing this. There are a number of things about this situation that my brain cannot comprehend. Firstly, that I am even able to touch my breasts in this manner considering my nipple phobia and secondly that the reason that I am having to do this is because I am going for an interview this morning. Yes, you read that right. My daughter is not three weeks old and I am going into work to see if I can bag a promotion. I sound like some career-crazed superwoman. I am not. I just need a bigger house to put all these goddamn children in.

So that I could put in a good performance, my mother persuaded me to hand over both my children to her so that I could get a good nights sleep. I sobbed as I handed over my new daughter and wasn't really sure why I was sobbing. It was just all too much.

So here I was, Friday morning, tits like rocks because I hadn't breastfed and images in my mind of me, all serious-faced in the interview whilst gallons of milk seeped from my breasts, soaking my breast pads and creating rings on my dress. I wiped the image from my mind, pulled on a variety of suport underwear, covered my face in so much make up that I looked like a waxwork and charged into battle.

I put in about as good a performance as I could and rushed back home to my daughter so that I could get the milk off my chest. Now only time will tell. I should find out early next week whether my efforts were in vain.

Anyway, talking of getting things off my chest this breastfeeding malarkey is really getting on my tits. The mild sense of success I felt when I got past day three, my nipples having bled, scabbed and practically dropped off and the pain had started to ease, has subsided. People kept promising me that it would get easier.

"You'll do it in your sleep" they said.

Bollocks.

I mean, could you sleep if a mouse was gnawing and clawing at your toes?

No. Of course you couldn't.

This isn't getting any easier. I'm bored, sore and tired and on the verge of giving up.

I am not a dairy queen.



6 comments:

  1. Hiya, have you got a breastfeeding councillor/supporter you can call? It sounds like you might need some moral support with the old bfing thing. I gota say, the first 6 weeks take in a lot of growth spurts so as soon as you think you've got the knack, all of a sudden they're feeding constantly again. Best of luck and don't be afraid to ask for help :)

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  2. t does get much, much easier. But I'm not going get all judgy on you if you decide to stop.

    A little hand held pump (Avent Isis is a good one) is handy so that you can pump a bottle and let someone else feed the baby without your boobs turning into rocks. It can become a drag having the baby so completely dependent on you for food.

    Very best of luck with the job.

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  3. I got to the point where I could sleep through a feed. Of course, it was once we hit like, 6 months and my nipples had gone numb, but they don't tell you that bit.

    I enjoyed breastfeeding, but when my son weaned at 13 months, I was so pleased to be able to put him to bed and walk away, rather than put him to bed and spend 30 minutes with my boob in his mouth.

    The first 6 weeks are hard, like nightmarish hard, even if it's not excruiciatingly painful. It does get easier, but I'll say it takes until 12 weeks.

    If it's making you insane, or you're not enjoying it, you can stop you know? No one ever tells you that you can stop, they keep pushing for you to continue and then when you do stop, declare sadly 'well, you did your best' I mean, how insane is that?

    So what I'm saying, is go with your gut. Stop, don't stop, it all works out the same in the end.
    xx

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  4. Oh I know how you feel, I did it with both of mine. The first one I stuck with it because the MIL said I wouldn't (stubborn). The second one I did it because I did it for the first one, but then when I tried to swap to bottles she wouldn't have it (stubborn). In the end I just stopped so she had to. My boobies turned in to comedy hughmungous boobies I think I was a H cup at the end. Bloomin' kids!

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  5. You may be no dairy queen but feel grateful for such things. There are some nutters out there with fully grown children hanging off their breasts!!
    There's a whole spectrum out there.........
    just know youve done your bit, now give yourself a pat on the back.
    (at least you didnt need two jam jars and 3 bath sheets)

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  6. Don't do it if it doesn't make you happy. Simple rule.

    It does get easier, but I think only if you're happy with it. Formula works just as well, I reckon.

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