If I had 4 hands, I’d give these titties 4 thumbs down.

by slutsunlimited

November 10th 2013

Wilder is two weeks old.

10778538146_61bafa7af1_b

I dare any woman (or man for that matter) to utter the words “Breast is best” this week. I swear to God I will give them the patented Tipton Titty Twister and leave them begging for mercy. It’s not that I’m discrediting the amazing benefits of breast milk, it’s just that I’m struggling with my milk production and right now I feel like my breasts are far from best at anything except causing me pain and mental anguish.  I’ve always loved my boobs, given them all the credit and glory they deserve. I’ve named them, dressed them in fine fabrics and taken thousands of photos of them. Sadly right now I feel like they are failing me, and I’m taking it pretty fucking personal.

11059323906_d7175bb165_b

Sleep deprivation hasn’t been helping my over- all mood. I have small meltdowns nearly every day, all of which have been related to my deep feelings of self-defeat. I have been seriously struggling with my perceived body inadequacies. I’m frustrated that I delivered Wilder early (although I am also very grateful for his presence and health) and now that he’s here I’m even more frustrated that I can’t feed him. It’s a very lonely situation when the thing you are most exasperated with is your own body. I know that it doesn’t make a lot of sense and that I should try to be focusing on all the remarkable things my body has done, but at this moment that seems nearly impossible. At least I think I’m free of serious post-partum depression. I have no malice or disinterest toward my precious baby. No need to hide the knives and pillows. I am just really disappointed in myself right now.

10744951243_47cdd15ffe_b

This past week began with stresses over my milk supply and they have continued. On Tuesday I called the lactation consultants back and explained that I was still only producing less than an ounce and a half of milk a day. I hadn’t experienced engorgement or any sensations of “let down” other than being consistently let down by my lack of fucking milk. The lactation consultants have been amazingly sweet and helpful. They suggested that I ask the midwives to write me a prescription for a medicine called “Domperidone” which is used for gastric reflux but the main side effect is prolactin release. I called the office but neither midwife would be available to return my call until the next morning due to the fact that they were attending training classes for their new location at Ocshner Hospital. Inconvenient for me, as the lactation consultants pointed out that time was of the essence.

10778548623_412ef4e6f4_b

Cathy the midwife called me back the following morning and when I explained I was in need of a prescription for Domperidone, she quickly cut me off telling me that it was completely unavailable in New Orleans and other near metro areas for use as a galactagogue (milk-producing substance). She assured me that her daughter was a lactation consultant and she was positive I would not be able to get it locally.  She suggested I call the lactation consultants at Touro back and see if they had any suggestions of where to perhaps order it from internationally. I hung up the phone and cried, actually more like wailed. I called Jackie, who was on a bus with really poor reception. She was trying to calm me down as her phone cut out. She then sent me the links to several articles via text and told me that it was ok if I didn’t breastfeed Wilder. (This was my favorite link: http://www.blogher.com/what-breastfeeding-advocates-need-stop-saying )  She pointed out that Michael Jordan was formula fed. I’m not sure if that’s true, but it did make me feel better.

Refusing to accept defeat so easily, I called the consultants back and was surprised when they told me that Patio Drugs in Metairie would fill the prescription. They kindly assured me, gave me the number to the pharmacy and told me to call back if they gave me any issues. I immediately called and spoke to a very nice and professional pharmacist who told me they would fill the prescription for breastfeeding issues. I was so happy I was crying,  yet again. I called the midwives office back and left a message for Cathy to return my call. Within the next hour she called me back. I attempted to explain that Patio Drugs would fill the prescription, but she cut me off, sounding slightly annoyed, stating that there was no way they would fill it as a galactagogue. I basically had to argue my case, explaining I had spoken directly to the pharmacist and he had promised me he would fill the script. Finally she understood that I knew what the fuck I was talking about. I gave her the direct phone number and the pharmacist’s name. She then asked me, “Well, what’s the dosage?” I wanted to throw the phone against the wall. Let’s see, I don’t fucking know the dosage because I’m not a fucking doctor. I didn’t say that to her. It took a lot not to. She relented and said she would just call her daughter. I wanted to add, “Oh, the daughter who was 100% certain the drug wasn’t available?” But I knew my bitchiness would do me good. I hung up feeling frustrated and nervous that she wouldn’t call the pharmacy until much later due to seeing patients. I’m sure my precarious emotional nature added to my frustration with the situation, but I honestly found our interaction to be unprofessional and I felt entirely unsupported by her.

10886439946_443a38366c_b

When Andy woke I explained the situation. He wasn’t thrilled about my taking a medicine for gastric reflux when I don’t have any problems with it. But both he and Lee Kyle were supportive when I explained this was going to be my last-ditch effort in my quest to breastfeed. If this didn’t work I promised to do my best to bow out gracefully. The pharmacy called a few hours later and Andy went to pick up the pills. They were expensive and not covered by insurance. $60.00 for a ten day supply. I was still offering my breasts to Wilder at every feeding, although his interest was certainly waning. I would then bottle feed him and pump my breasts for 20 minutes. This was happening once every 3 hours still, and my nipples were in constant pain. I was using lanolin, but all it did was stain my bras. I stood naked in front of the mirror and tried to will my boobs to produce milk. I was praying the pills would be the solution.

10778537334_260e58d7e2_b

Wilder was more fussy and hungry this past week than usual. Perhaps he was going through a growth spurt. It’s hard to gauge how much he wants to eat. This whole business of babies not being able to easily communicate their needs can be stressful. I’ve been trying to distinguish between his different types of cries, but in the middle of the night they all sound the same. Andy has been bearing the brunt of overnights with me, even taking the occasional few hours alone in the nursery with Wilder so that I can rest in my bed for a spell. We are slowly getting a system into place, although it’s a rough one. We have been lucky to have a good amount of company who have been kind enough to bring us food or baby supplies and keep us company. It’s nice to have baby holders during the day because it allows me to get a few things done around the house, and put on real clothes as opposed to my pajamas.

10745182203_fc44be4f34_b

On Saturday I began to feel a tingle in my breasts upon waking. It wasn’t monumental, but it was something. Then by midday my right breast was causing me a lot of pain. This is the breast that is most affected by my Fibrocystic Breast Disease, so I’m used to it being sensitive, but this was something different. I checked and I was not leaking any milk, but when I massaged my boobs for a few minutes I could coax a few drops from my nipples. This wasn’t entirely new, but my breasts did feel heavier. I crossed my fingers and headed for the pump. Pumping had become more painful for my right breast, but I stuck with it for the 20 minutes. My milk supply was slightly increased but nothing to write home about. I was thankful that there was some change, though, however small.

We finished the week on a high note. I didn’t cry once over the weekend, which made everyone happy. Wilder’s umbilical cord fell off on his 2-week birthday and we celebrated by giving him his first official bath. It was quite a scene with the four of us Googling how to properly bathe a baby, then all cramming into the bathroom. Clint and I were less hands-on as we watched Andy and Lee get everything set up and place Wilder into the little tub. Wilder seemed to enjoy his first bath, which made me very happy since I intend on keeping him as clean as possible. Lee Kyle styled his hair afterward and we all marveled over his adorableness. I had been feeling somewhat morose earlier in the day over the lack of intimacy between Andy and I due to sheer exhaustion, but sharing this sweet moment made me realize that there will be several trade-offs as we get acclimated to life as parents. Looking at Wilder and the three boys, I wouldn’t change a thing even if given the chance.

10791453623_6e802d70e8_b

10791234936_aee37a22fa_b

10791467953_d44671f35c_b

10791503843_60bfbf8946_b

*Thank you to everyone who has offered advice and support to me in my breastfeeding quest. I truly appreciate all your kind words and suggestions.

Advertisements