That Time I Wished I Didn't Have Boobs.

Happy Wednesday!!! 

So. I've mentioned on this here blog that I've had issues with breastfeeding (and by issues, I mean that I bawled every single day, dropped the "f bomb" a lot, continually repeated that I hated my life, and yelled about how much I hated breastfeeding). Why didn't I just quit, you ask??

1. Since I opted to quit my full-time job so that I could stay at home, we are po (can't even afford the "o-r," people) and formula is not cheap. If you're not a mom and don't already know this, go to the baby section of Target next time you're there and check it out.

2. I am competitive. I know it sounds ridiculous, but I just kept saying, "If insert name here can do it, I should be able to!"

3. Momma's milk really is better for baby.

So anyway, let me tell you a little bit about what I went through.

In the hospital, Elsie had no problem whatsoever latching on and sucking. Girl has the suction of a freaking hoover, people!! She would get frustrated because the colostrum wouldn't come right away, but she was doing it.

Two days after the c-section (Sunday morning), I woke up and my boobs were, no joke, the size of cantaloupes. They had to be g's, I swear. And when I touched them to figure out what the crap was going on, they were rock hard. Because they were so stretched, poor Elsie couldn't get a latch if you know what I mean! I had no clue what was going on! Apparently I didn't know too much about BFing, because I had no idea that engorgement was a thing.

Anyway, to make a long story short, the lactation consultant in the hospital was awful. She was not helpful at all, and she beat the crap out of my boobs. She forced Elsie to latch before the engorgement was gone, and I ended up with scabbed over and bleeding nipples. She "massaged" the milk out, and was super rough, so I literally had bruises everywhere. In the end, she gave me a nipple shield and didn't really tell me anything about it except how to use it.

Fast forward three weeks, and I am desperate to get off the shield. This stupid piece of plastic was the bane of my existence, I tell you! Elsie would suck so hard that she pulled my nipple through the little holes on the shield. It hurt like the mother effing dickens. I was about to throw in the towel and say, "the hell with it" and pump exclusively, but holy balls, pumping is a ton of work.

I looked in my handy dandy breastfeeding book, asked for advice on Facebook,  and saw a couple lactation consultants; nothing worked. NOTHING. I was on the verge of giving up when we left for Utah. When we were in Utah, though, we stopped by Mike's brother's house. Out of nowhere, Matt's (Mike's bro) wife asked me if I was breastfeeding and how it was going. I told her that it wasn't going great and she offered to help me out. You must understand something - she and I have had our differences and have not always gotten along the best. This would be why Mike and I were both shocked when I said, "Yes."

People, this is when it all changed. A complete 180. Amy taught me something that she likes to call, "The Perfect Latch." Out of the three lactation consultants I saw, none of them taught me this latch! This latch was seriously a friggin' miracle. If only I had known about this from the beginning, my life would have been so. much. easier. We were completely off the nipple shield from that day on. The soreness went away, I don't cry about breastfeeding anymore, and I can go places and not worry about how I'm going to feed my child if she gets hungry and I don't have a bottle or the shield. If you are breastfeeding and have tried everything and want to rip your hair out, let me know and I can get you in contact with her.

I'm not really one of the sentimental people who wanted to breastfeed because of the bond between mama and baby - my motives were purely financial. That's not to say that I haven't noticed the special bond it creates, because I have! I just generally don't like to get all mushy gushy about that stuff.

So there you have it - I no longer wish that I didn't have boobs (although I am looking forward to the day that my husband can take care of all the feedings), and I can do it, just like all those other moms. Oh, and I'm saving a butt load of money. Win.

And.... just for good measure, here's a picture of me and my little bestie.