Breastfeeding and I butted heads from the beginning.
It wasn't that my nearly 9.5 pound baby didn't latch on (of course he did, the kid was starving!), it was that as many women know, you don't realize you have a "bad latch" until it looks like you've gone to 2nd base with Edward Scissorshands. Even the nurses in the hospital told me they'd never seen such unique blueish/purple lines. Were they cuts? Bruises? I guess my pale Welsh ancestors didn't exactly pass on the toughest of skin.
The agony continued at home, with each feeding feeling like an electrical shock of pain. I decided I needed to hire a very well known breastfeeding consultant to help me out, and like everyone else who saw the girls, she gasped when I opened my shirt and showed her the damage. She said there was no way to work on a "good latch" since everything would feel like shooting pain and advised me to exclusively pump so that I could have time to heal. It was a lot of work -- pumping and feeding every three hours, but my husband, mom and mother-in-law helped out a ton.
Fast forward to several weeks later, I had finally healed and was ready to breastfeed again. I phased it in slowly... such as feeding once, pumping five times, then feeding twice, pumping four times, etc. We were finally on the right track! Jack and I were getting into a good little routine until...a plugged duct turned into a nasty case of mastitis. With the help of my mom, mother-in-law and husband, I slept all day in a puddle of sweat, and would only get up to pump every few hours. It took every ounce of energy to get my weak body out of bed to do so.
Two rounds of antibiotics later -- and the doctors realized that my mastitis hadn't healed, but instead turned into a very rare and large abscess. (I've read that they only occur in 3-11% of mastitis cases.) It was so large, in fact, that Jack could no longer latch because the tumor-looking abscess was in his way. (Thank god babies don't remember this stage. There wouldn't be enough therapy in the world.)
The first doctor I went to referred me to a specialist who used an ultrasound to drain it with a needle. It was so large though that she had to refer me another doctor who told me she had no other option than to cut it open and drain everything inside. As she was draining it, her exact words to me were, "This isn't the most puss I've seen, but you're in the top 5." (Finally! I competed at Miss USA years ago and did not score that high.)
She numbed me so I couldn't feel her cutting, but I could feel the puss running down my body. (Oh, and an extra disgusting bonus? I had to keep the hole open for the next two weeks by packing it with gauze by using a medical Q-tip to stuff it in. It was the grossest thing I've ever done. My mother-in-law, who is a former nurse, helped. We bonded in ways that no mother and daughter-in-law should.)
Not ready to give up the dream, I tried to pump later that day, but realized after pumping in the dark that the cups were filled with more blood and puss than breast milk. I blacked out from the grossness of it all, and when I awoke, I said, "Okay, this is my sign. Breastfeeding is not meant for me." I then spent the next week in agony while trying to dry up cold turkey, and cried for the next two weeks about what a terrible mother I was.
My experience was not only painful, but it also made me realize that many people try to make you feel guilty (whether they mean to or not) if you're not breastfeeding. There's this whole pro-breastfeeding movement with articles, social posts and hashtags...and well it sucks (literally!) because it only makes the mom guilt worse.
So for all of you who can't, or don't want to breastfeed, this list is for you. Here are my top six reasons you shouldn't feel guilty if it doesn't work for you.
My Top 6 Reasons You Shouldn't Feel Guilty About Not Breastfeeding
It wasn't that my nearly 9.5 pound baby didn't latch on (of course he did, the kid was starving!), it was that as many women know, you don't realize you have a "bad latch" until it looks like you've gone to 2nd base with Edward Scissorshands. Even the nurses in the hospital told me they'd never seen such unique blueish/purple lines. Were they cuts? Bruises? I guess my pale Welsh ancestors didn't exactly pass on the toughest of skin.
The agony continued at home, with each feeding feeling like an electrical shock of pain. I decided I needed to hire a very well known breastfeeding consultant to help me out, and like everyone else who saw the girls, she gasped when I opened my shirt and showed her the damage. She said there was no way to work on a "good latch" since everything would feel like shooting pain and advised me to exclusively pump so that I could have time to heal. It was a lot of work -- pumping and feeding every three hours, but my husband, mom and mother-in-law helped out a ton.
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| "Mommy, why do you always have ice on my food?" |
Fast forward to several weeks later, I had finally healed and was ready to breastfeed again. I phased it in slowly... such as feeding once, pumping five times, then feeding twice, pumping four times, etc. We were finally on the right track! Jack and I were getting into a good little routine until...a plugged duct turned into a nasty case of mastitis. With the help of my mom, mother-in-law and husband, I slept all day in a puddle of sweat, and would only get up to pump every few hours. It took every ounce of energy to get my weak body out of bed to do so.
Two rounds of antibiotics later -- and the doctors realized that my mastitis hadn't healed, but instead turned into a very rare and large abscess. (I've read that they only occur in 3-11% of mastitis cases.) It was so large, in fact, that Jack could no longer latch because the tumor-looking abscess was in his way. (Thank god babies don't remember this stage. There wouldn't be enough therapy in the world.)
The first doctor I went to referred me to a specialist who used an ultrasound to drain it with a needle. It was so large though that she had to refer me another doctor who told me she had no other option than to cut it open and drain everything inside. As she was draining it, her exact words to me were, "This isn't the most puss I've seen, but you're in the top 5." (Finally! I competed at Miss USA years ago and did not score that high.)
She numbed me so I couldn't feel her cutting, but I could feel the puss running down my body. (Oh, and an extra disgusting bonus? I had to keep the hole open for the next two weeks by packing it with gauze by using a medical Q-tip to stuff it in. It was the grossest thing I've ever done. My mother-in-law, who is a former nurse, helped. We bonded in ways that no mother and daughter-in-law should.)
Not ready to give up the dream, I tried to pump later that day, but realized after pumping in the dark that the cups were filled with more blood and puss than breast milk. I blacked out from the grossness of it all, and when I awoke, I said, "Okay, this is my sign. Breastfeeding is not meant for me." I then spent the next week in agony while trying to dry up cold turkey, and cried for the next two weeks about what a terrible mother I was.
My experience was not only painful, but it also made me realize that many people try to make you feel guilty (whether they mean to or not) if you're not breastfeeding. There's this whole pro-breastfeeding movement with articles, social posts and hashtags...and well it sucks (literally!) because it only makes the mom guilt worse.
So for all of you who can't, or don't want to breastfeed, this list is for you. Here are my top six reasons you shouldn't feel guilty if it doesn't work for you.
My Top 6 Reasons You Shouldn't Feel Guilty About Not Breastfeeding
- It's Damn Inconvenient- When I went back to work, I realized that I was going to have to schlep my pump and milk to a different...borough. I was lucky that I often worked from our Manhattan apartment, but when I did need to go to the office, it was across the river in Brooklyn. That meant I would have needed to haul my laptop, pump and milk supplies 1) Onto a cramped shuttle from our building to the subway stop then 2) Onto an even more cramped A train then 3) Transfer it to the C Train and then 4) Walk it another 0.4 miles to work. I could have then pumped in the bathroom or storage closet to then try to find room in the office refrigerator among my millennial colleague's hemp sandwiches. (I will say my awesome boss later gave up his office to allow one of my colleague's to pump and he definitely would have done the same for me. Isn't that great?) And to all of you who do schlep all your supplies daily so you can continue your journey, I tip my hat to you.
- It Hurts- I know I'm not speaking from the best experience, but aside from bruising and mastitis, my boobs HURT every three hours. I'm a petite woman and those things ballooned to an F-cup. (Apparently I was an over producer.) I literally couldn't be away from Jack or a pump for more than three hours. I remember being at brunch with my girlfriends and cringing when one ordered a second drink. I had only been out for two hours but I felt like I was going to explode. And when I tried to run for a workout, I had to hold each breast because of the pain. Holy moly! Carrying two milk jugs is not easy.
- It's Hard- Have you ever noticed on the "how to breastfeed" video online, the women have those porn star boobs that not only can be maneuvered in any direction to easily feed their child, but it could also probably feed a kid two tables over? For the rest of us with smaller or super swollen breasts that are close to our bodies, it's not as easy. Porn star boobs= easy. Non porn star boobs= harder.
- It May Not Be What It Seems- Yeah, yeah, I know. You can't login to Instagram without seeing a celebrity, influencer or friend breastfeeding their baby or showing all the breast milk she's donating because she just has too much, blah, blah, blah. (I cried for 1/2 an hour when I saw Olivia Wilde post a picture of her breastfeeding like 10 minutes after my journey ended.) Here's the thing: it's a whole lot easier to breastfeed when you aren't working. Or if you have a huge support system like a night nurse or an assistant. Or when you don't have any issues with it in the first place. Try to remember that most people only put the good stuff on social media. They aren't posting about all their breastfeeding tears, their postpartum depression or cellulite. Am I right??
- Formula Is Really, Really Good- One of my amazing co-workers (who's a former nanny) consoled me after I gave up breastfeeding and said, "Don't you have to add supplements to breast milk? And with formula, you don't have to add a thing, right? That should make you feel better already." Listen, I'm not trying to say that formula is better than breast milk (please save the nasty comments), I'm just saying that it's 2019 and formula is really, really, good. If they can have driverless cars, I'm fairly certain they can make a pretty great formula. And besides, Jack who is now almost 5 years old, is smart, funny, happy and one of the most polite kids you'll meet, so I'm pretty sure I didn't screw him up (yet).
- You Don't Have to Be That Mom- Instead of constantly posting on social media about how proud you are that you're breastfeeding or designating special hashtags to let the world know how much better you are than the rest of us (I want to punch anyone who says Breast is Best. It's like no Betty, I'm pretty sure not being a judgemental bitc* is best), you can instead spend time doing what mothers should be doing -- drinking wine and talking shit about other mothers. And an added bonus? You could designate special hasthtags to showcase other bodily functions and how great they are! I have a few suggestions here: #PoopingAfterCoffeeIsBest #IFartWhenILaugh #IAlsoPeeALittleBit #ActuallyALotOfBit
