The truth about breastfeeding

Somewhere in the line of conception, when the XX chromosomes are established, and the road map of your body as a woman is conveniently determined*, you develop a nurturing instinct that is just a wee bit short of psycho. From the earliest time, you try to grab your neighbor's Persian cat to dress it up in baby clothes and make it take naps in a cardboard box crib. If there is a baby within 500 feet, you can actually smell the powder and have to get close enough to say "whats-a-baby-doing?" at least 10,000 times. You create exhaustive lists of names for your daughters which include "Destiny" and "Precious". And you dream of the day you'll get married so you can have "real" babies of your own to love.

Then, your dream comes true and you wonder "WHAT WAS I THINKING?"

Now, you were TOTALLY prepared for labor, because anyone from the chick behind the counter at Albertsons to the man next door whose cousin delivered a baby in 1974 tell you, from the moment you look pregnant,** that

1. you want drugs during the delivery
2. delivery is going to hurt like hell even IF you take drugs
3. you should start taking drugs NOW just in case the drugs they give you during delivery don't take

Before the first conversation about this even ends, you get the point loud and clear and make a mental note to have an exhaustive conversation about drugs with your OB/GYN. And you do, every single time you set foot in his/her office. Upon arriving at the hospital, you talk about your drugs with the girl who checks you in. You even talk with the night janitor, as you pass him coming out of the restroom before you are assigned a room, to be sure he's aware that you NEED your drugs.

Because you've been a good Mom-to-be during your pregnancy, you've practically inhaled anything that has to do with delivering baby, taking sweet-ums home, breastfeeding, etc. You've practically filled the DVR with "A Baby Story" and spent hours channel-surfing to find good shows with the word "ANIMAL" in the title, so you could see little creatures being ejected from their Mommy's womb onto the cold, hard, unforgiving Earth, babies who then stood immediately, walked wobbly-legged, and began to suckle from their Mother's breast. You note that Mom animals never seem to mind the delivery or the teat sucking.

Now, after delivery***, your baby is placed at your breast for the first time and you quickly realize, "I have absolutely nothing in common with giraffe Mommas. And my baby seems suspiciously helpless."

Baby has the head control of a drunk on Bourbon Street during Mardi Gras. You have breasts that currently look like they are pumped up on helium and a husband who can't believe his luck****. Your nipples, if they aren't playing peek-a-boo, are the size of seeded globe grapes, a problem since baby has a mouth the size of a pea. And, moment-by-moment, your breast milk is making its way to fill up your breasts until they might explode.

All this can mean only one thing: pain.

Excruciating pain.

The same alarmist folks who would have you snowed under on narcotics to deliver your baby tell you absolutely zilch about breastfeeding your sunny bunny. Even your best girlfriends, sisters-in-law, and your Mother tell you NOTHING! Is there some kind of "breastfeeding amnesia" that occurs after you transition baby to a sippy cup? Is this a conspiracy created by the LaLeche League? WWWWHHHYYYYY?

Which brings me back to my title for this post: The truth about breastfeeding. It sucks. Literally and more literally. At first, it is painful, unnatural, and frustrating.

And, it is the best thing you'll ever do in your life.

Yes, it is the BEST thing you'll ever do in your life.

You could earn a PhD in physics faster than you'll learn how to breastfeed. In the process, you'll find yourself in positions you thought were reserved for private times with your hubby in order to get baby to latch on. People will laugh at you the first time you pump and say you look like a cow in a dairy plant hooked up to a milking machine*****.

But, hold on to your sanity and keep those breast shields handy, because your milk will come in, down, and start gushing out before you know it. And, if you are lucky, you'll get to have fabulously engorged breasts without the aid of silicone until you decide to pull the nips from baby******. It will be the most wonderful, peaceful bonding time with your child, that is, once you both get the hang of it.

Trust me: you'll be glad I gave you the truth. And so will baby.

And, to your hubby, "You're so very welcome. No go wipe that drool off your chin."





*With breast, hip and waist size established so early, we gals should just give in to our chocolate craving on day one. Truly, wouldn't chocolate breast milk be superior?

**Even if that's, OOPS!, actually a few pounds you gained on vacation.....

***Which you managed to survive, thanks to the drugs.

****"Yes, nurse. Could you bring a drool rag? No, not for baby. For my husband. Yes, he's staring at them AGAIN."

*****True story. Still haven't taken revenge. Considering options.

******Do the world a favor and do this BEFORE baby can ask for milk. That's just not right.