As my daughter lay sprawled across my chest in and out of sleep, my boobs are screaming at me “It’s almost time to eat again!” The pain of my milk “letting down” feels like a heart attack in my breasts. Without fail, either my daughter or my breasts give me fair warning when it’s time to break out my boobs for yet another feeding.
During my entire pregnancy people asked a lot of questions, one of the most popular being, “Are you going to breast feed??” It seems to be a topic that always has a fair amount of controversy attached to it. Whether you breast feed at all, at what age you breast feed your child until or if you’re comfortable enough to whip out your milk jugs in public is always a topic up for discussion and debate. None the less, my answer and intention to the big breasted question was always yes, but deep down I never really had a set plan. I wanted to breast feed because in my heart I felt it was the best thing for my daughter, but on the other hand, my already bustier than busty breasts were sore and sensitive, and the thought of a hungry crazed infant ferociously going after my nipples like a poor man devouring a strip of New York sirloin steak scared the shit out of me. I also feared I would be one of the many women who simply didn’t produce enough or any milk. I tried not to put too much thought or anxiety into it and I focused as much as I could on having a healthy pregnancy and told myself I’d figure it out once my daughter arrived.
It must have been no more than an hour after my daughter was born that one of the nurses helped me breast feed her for the first time. I started with the right one which was and still is the less sore and sensitive of the two melons attached to my chest. Once my daughter was latched the nurse immediately said, “Wow! She has a great latch!” I thought, “Really? How can you tell?” I always assumed breast feeding would just come naturally, but after hearing many stories from friends and family, I realized that it may not be the case. None the less, my daughter and I seemed to make a great breast feeding team from day one. It was easy and natural to nurse her, just as I had originally thought…
Somehow the first few feedings didn’t hurt. Maybe it was the fact I was still numb from the epidural, or perhaps it was the the pure excitement of finally being a mommy and holding my daughter in my arms. Whatever it was, it didn’t last because nursing went from painless to SO painful my entire body would tense up and I was silently screaming and swearing with every latch. “Are you OK?”, my husband asked every time. “You have no idea!” I told him. Beyond the agonizing nipple pain during nursing was the worst pain my boobs had ever felt in my entire life. Once my milk was in I was so engorged. To say my boobs killed was an understatement. I swear if a slight breeze passed by them I would cry in agonizing pain. They were heavy, huge and so sore I wanted to die. OK, I’m exaggerating a bit because no I didn’t want to die, but I wanted to quit. The 24/7 agonizing pain was exhausting and on top of trying to recover from an emergency c section I was sure I wouldn’t even last a month. I also leak and spray milk across the room or even worse, in my poor kids face which is just insane. There are no words for huge, sore leaky breasts. Adjusting to motherhood and taking care of my baby girl was easy and felt like second nature to me, but breast feeding was proving to be a huge physical challenge for me.
Friends and family offered up advice and words of wisdom with every rant, bitch and complaint I made. Everyone, and I mean everyone said, “Stick with it, it gets easier.” I wanted to scream every time I heard or read those words because with each passing day I continued to be in so much constant pain and discomfort. “Wheeeeen does it better?!!” Luckily the nursing part was becoming much less painful by the second week, but my boobs in all their existence hurt so damn bad from being so full. Some people told me to pump to relieve the pain and engorgment and others told me not to because nursing is “supply and demand” and that if I was engorged with an oversupply of milk, it would only tell my body to produce even more.
I went back and forth with the battle of whether or not I should pump. Both pieces of advice made sense. Throw my husband into the mix who was starting to get bummed out that he couldn’t feed her. He looked at her one day while she was passed out milk drunk on my chest after nursing and said, “I’ll never be able to compete with that.” I asked what he meant and he said, “Well I cant feed her so I’ll never get those kind of cuddles and bond.” Now this kid seems to want to cuddle 24/7, but I immediately realized that he was feeling left out. He wanted so badly to be able to feed her and bond with her the way I did at each feeding. So, I pulled out the Medela double breast pump I got free through insurance and pumped away. I did it first thing in the morning instead of feeding her and got about 7 1/2oz of milk and I didn’t even completely I empty them. I thought, “Damn! Is this a lot?!” I thought so but I wasn’t totally sure. We filled up a bottle only for her to drink 3 of those ounces. Despite the large quantity of milk I produced, my husband had never looked so happy as he sat down and fed our daughter her very first bottle of breast milk. I have to admit, as much as my boobs had been hurting so badly, I felt a twinge of sadness watching her drink from a bottle and not from me. But there was no way I was going to deny my husband or her the joy and bonding experience, and seeing him so happy made me happy. Plus, it also gave my nipples a break from her serious sucking powers!
A few days later I attended a breast feeding meeting where the lactation consultant told me I definitely had an oversupply of milk. In fact, she couldn’t believe just how much I was producing for my daughter only being two weeks old. While most of the women in the meeting had the opposite problem, there I was complaining that I desperately wanted my supply to go down so I could find some relief. I felt horrible hearing the women who expressed their struggles with getting an ounce when pumping and that their babies weren’t gaining enough weight due to lack of supply when I felt like I had enough to feed an army of babies. I sat there wondering why on earth can’t we all just be normal?! The lactation consultant told us an oversupply is just as much as a problem as an undersupply. She suggested I try block feeding to help regulate things which meant instead of offering both breasts at each feeding, I’d stay on the same breast in the hopes of completely draining it. I tried it a few times but found the breast that “skipped” a feeding was so damn sore and huge by the next one that I could barely even walk without being in pain. I decided that I’d continue to pump every other day or so and just keep at it to see if things actually got better for me.
Last Friday my breasts felt like they had hit their “rock bottom.” I was so engorged and sore that I almost busted out the sample of formula I received in the mail. I wanted to throw in the towel and give up so badly. Everyone told me to give it two weeks and it was now almost three weeks of pure breast feeding hell without relief in sight. On top of being unbelievably uncomfortable and frustrated, we had our newborn photography session scheduled that evening and I couldn’t find a single nice shirt to fit over my boobs…literally! I cried, I screamed, I swore and I cried some more. I was so angry I told my husband our daughter would be an only child because after weeks of constant pain and discomfort, the thought of doing this again made my skin crawl. I also told him I didn’t think breast feeding was for me and that I wanted to quit.
Later that night my husband gave our daughter a bottle and they both passed out cold in front of the fireplace. I stood there looking at them happy and content and suddenly felt incredibly guilty for being so angry at my body. I looked at my daughter whose pediatrician told me is growing perfectly, and was shocked I wasn’t supplementing with formula. She is doing so well solely on the milk that my huge sore breasts I keep complaining about provide her every day. I may hate them, but to her they are her only food source, and she loves them! I reminded myself that I’m not doing this for me; I’m doing it for her. I also reminded myself that the last thing I am is a quitter, especially when it comes to my daughter and her well being. I picked up the empty bottle that was once filled with my liquid gold, brought it to the kitchen sink, cleaned it and told myself, “You can do this. Just stick it out a little longer.” I also knew that if I were amoung the women who couldn’t breast feed at all I’d be feeling even shittier and that I needed to be thankful and give my body more time to adjust.
Finally, by Monday of this week I started feeling better. My tatas felt less full and sore, and I didn’t want to cry as much when pulling them out to feed my daughter. While they’re still huge and I still have a ways to go before being completely comfortable, I finally feel like I’m on the upside of breast feeding. But I’ve decided that whenever I want to quit due to pain or discomfort I need to look at my daughter and remind myself I’m not doing this for me, I’m doing it for her. She is happy and thriving on everything my body is providing her. I could never deny my baby girl of what I think is best, and right now I know whether given to her breast or bottle, my breast milk is exactly what she wants and needs.
~Sparke