Not for the faint of Heart (or breast)

I struggled with the idea of writing this blog entry.  After all, it's going to be unpleasant for many of you to read.  It is, in all honesty, much more unpleasant for me to live through, and yet has almost become like a war wound for me.  A mark of my unwavering determination in the harsh world of breastfeeding.

I did not breastfeed Hunter for very long, three months or so.  Just when all the engorgement, mastitis and sore nipples started to seem better, I jumped off the breastfeeding boat and grabbed hold of the life preserver formula.  I loved that my body went back to normal, and that I didn't have to suffer through a sinus cold without medication anymore.  My body was my own again.  But it cost me. 

By the time I was pregnant with Parker I had grown as a mother.  I had become less selfish.  Less inclined to moan about how my body was changing (though, admittedly not much less!) and much less inclined to make decisions based on how I was going to be affected versus how they were going to be affected.  I made a vow to myself, and spent months talking myself up, that this time I'd breastfeed.  I didn't give myself a time, but I made a promise that I'd at least try. 

Since I'd psyched myself up for so long, the first few months were painful, but bearable.  I was in Ecstasy with my new little family, so a little pain felt like nothing compared the happiness of daily life.  When that two month mark came and went, and I was no longer in pain, I was a convert.  I went to Disney, I nursed in public, in restos and, gasp!, across from my DAD.  The bliss, didn't last.

A few months later, Parker got thrush, and an incompetent clinic doctor, even after I'd asked the question specifically, told me that the thrush couldn't be passed between mother and baby.  He gave me meds to treat ONLY Parker and never told me how to prevent myself from getting it, and then subsequently giving it back to him.  Well, I got it, and here's where the two month long cycle of thrush begins.  I wont go into details about this dark time in my life, but what I can say, is that it was much more bearable that what is happening to me now.

Parker is an inquisitive little guy.  Always exploring, always looking around, always wanting to be part of the action.  He's been this way since birth, and I've encouraged it.  So when he eats he pulls and tugs and looks around, and unlatches and it's awful.  At the beginning, it wasn't so bad, but as he grew older, he seemed to want to eat as fast as possible so as not to miss anything that was going on, and so he began to suck super hard, pulling at my breasts, biting down on my nipples to get more milk out.  This of course, is completely counter productive, and I'd take him off and let him know forcefully that it was not OK to bite mommy, but by then, since this was happening every time, the damage was done.  He's also using me as a teething ring.  Thanks Parker...lol!

And so, this is where I am now, broken, bleeding, raw and dealing with mastitis AGAIN.  I spent all of Monday in tears, feeling guilty that I couldn't fathom feeding my child for fear of the pain it would cause me.  He's started to notice too and is sensitive to my tears and inability to even breathe while nursing him.  I called La Leche League and finally spoke to a lovely woman named Jennifer who told me it's not normal for a woman with a nine month old to have such problems while nursing, and that she'd write me a referral for a clinical trial at the Jewish to take part in a study about healing my wounds.  She gave me hope, and after about an hours' conversation she'd convinced me to keep trying. 

So, here's the gross part girls (or boys if you didn't follow the rules not to read this!), I take some Tylenol, numb my nipples with an ice pack, and feed my baby, reluctantly, when I have to.  When he eats he breaks the scabs and my nipples bleed more blood than milk and he spits up blood. 

My goal was a year.  Now, I've changed that goal to 11 months, depending on whether or not I can heal. 

The point of telling you this story is on the one hand to let you know the dark side of something so beautiful and on the other hand to let you in on a secret.

Motherhood does not make you weak, it makes you invincible.