The Great Breast Wars Strikes Back
I'd like to revise my statement from a week ago. My child does not hate my breasts. She hates ONE breast. The right one. Since Day One. And here it is Day Thirteen.
Monday was a pretty good day. She sucked herself onto the left breast and I managed to lob her head onto the right breast (or the "bad boob," as we like to call it around here) a few times. It deteriorated from there, though. By late Monday evening, I started feeding her the left breast every two hours, then pumping the right one afterward, to keep it from withering away. After cleaning bottles and rocking her to sleep, I had perhaps a half hour to tend to myself before the next feed. This, my friends, does not leave much extra time for even the neccesities in life.
Wednesday had me near tears in the pediatrian's office, pleading with her to tell me what to do (F.Y.I. new baby check went great.) Nursing is one thing. Pumping is another. But nursing AND pumping is another animal quite unto itself. She gave me lots of pointers and tips, and even said that the same thing happened to her with her second (she ended up pumping exclusively.) But in the end, she told me it was up to me. Damn that woman. I honestly secretly wanted her to say, "Oh dear. I order you to switch to formula."
So I've kept nursing and pumping. Nursing and pumping. Nursing and pumping. Yesterday, I prayed that God would help me make a decision by this weekend. I called the lactation consultant and she's coming by on Saturday. I asked her, "Is it possible to just use one breast?" She said, "Sure, but you will be lopsided." I said, "I do not care. Bring on the stuffies."
...oh, by the way, I do really love my daughter and would go through all of this again and more for her. I just hate breastfeeding. In fact, I think my mind has officially shifted into Mother Mode. I am already dreading the day I have to drop her off at Daycare (found myself crying in the shower at the thought) and having the panic dreams where I've dropped her or can't find her. I'm assuming it just gets worse from here.
Monday was a pretty good day. She sucked herself onto the left breast and I managed to lob her head onto the right breast (or the "bad boob," as we like to call it around here) a few times. It deteriorated from there, though. By late Monday evening, I started feeding her the left breast every two hours, then pumping the right one afterward, to keep it from withering away. After cleaning bottles and rocking her to sleep, I had perhaps a half hour to tend to myself before the next feed. This, my friends, does not leave much extra time for even the neccesities in life.
Wednesday had me near tears in the pediatrian's office, pleading with her to tell me what to do (F.Y.I. new baby check went great.) Nursing is one thing. Pumping is another. But nursing AND pumping is another animal quite unto itself. She gave me lots of pointers and tips, and even said that the same thing happened to her with her second (she ended up pumping exclusively.) But in the end, she told me it was up to me. Damn that woman. I honestly secretly wanted her to say, "Oh dear. I order you to switch to formula."
So I've kept nursing and pumping. Nursing and pumping. Nursing and pumping. Yesterday, I prayed that God would help me make a decision by this weekend. I called the lactation consultant and she's coming by on Saturday. I asked her, "Is it possible to just use one breast?" She said, "Sure, but you will be lopsided." I said, "I do not care. Bring on the stuffies."
...oh, by the way, I do really love my daughter and would go through all of this again and more for her. I just hate breastfeeding. In fact, I think my mind has officially shifted into Mother Mode. I am already dreading the day I have to drop her off at Daycare (found myself crying in the shower at the thought) and having the panic dreams where I've dropped her or can't find her. I'm assuming it just gets worse from here.
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