An experienced mother becomes a hand-wringing idiot
August 20, 2014
Hi there, just checking in for a quick second tonight whilst I gulp my illegal beer down (definitely not Whole 30 approved) and wait for dinner to finish simmering. (Deeply ironic paleo beef stew, since you didn’t ask.)
So about that boob injury I referenced last week on the blog’s Facebook page. Yeah, go head and cover yo eyes, male readers, because it’s about to get real.
Evie is 8 whopping months now and while she is of course old enough to wean to formula and of course there is nothing wrong with formula feeding your baby. NOTHING. I’m just…reluctant. You see, about a week ago something went horribly and terribly wrong one one side of her nourishment delivery system and suddenly there is like blood and cursing and all kinds of writhing in pain at every feeding.
It’s been difficult to know what to do, because while my brain (and my very supportive husband) are like wean that baby you’re squirting blood in her mouth and oh the suffering (sorry for that detail. Just…sorry.) my mother heart (and I suppose my oxytocin-addled mind) are like nooooooooo, must nurse the baby until she decides she’s done and my particular favorite, THIS IS SUCH A BONDING EXPERIENCE! HOW MUCH DO YOU FREAKING LOVE YOUR BABY RIGHT NOW?! which is a totally true statement, but it feels weirdly amplified by the very real hormonal hit that accompanies each nursing session.
So. That leaves us here, on Tuesday, one week into the great boob trauma of 2014, whereby I have decided on 4 separate and consecutive days that I am going to a. wean her, b. wean her to one side only (is this possible? It doesn’t feel possible), c. call my $$$ lactation consultant who is literally on speed dial and drop another Benjamin on a cozy private conversation, or d. go to Whole Foods and buy all the organic formula made from the delicate tears of pastured, free range celestial cows.
Here is where the rant ends and the questions begin.
Mothers of the nursing variety, have you ever/has someone you’ve known weaned a baby to one sided feeding? Did you look like a sideshow specimen in your clothes? Did the awful one-two punch of nipple trauma + engorgment finally abate and you found yourself left with one sufficiently productive breast? Can you explain to me why it’s fine to write “breastfeeding” but when I write “breast” I feel like I’m 13 years old and male on the inside?
Any comments or anecdotal accounts are welcome, but just know that I’ve tried all the lanolin, all the pumping, all the weird natural concoctions and all the healing compresses. There’s still a situation resembling the San Andreas fault, and I’m pretty sure that I will never, ever look or feel the same on that side.
(Dad, I hope you stopped reading a long, long time ago.)