I love breastfeeding. I have loved it since the moment Max first latched on. It was an incredibly bonding experience and I instantly felt that oxtocin (a happy hormone which coincidentally triggers milk let-down) wash over me. It calmed my new mom nerves and acted as a telescope. Focusing in on this other-word child in my arms.
I feel blessed to have had very little issues surrounding breastfeeding. My milk came in all normal making my breasts rock hard a few days after having Max. Literally they felt like rocks. It hurt but I didn’t mind because I knew it was a sign that my breasts were doing their job making milk for a new life on this earth. Go Breasts!
It is tricky getting used to breast feeding. You arms have to build up a certain muscle to hold the ever-weight-increasing baby in your arms and I found that sitting criss-cross applesauce was most comfortable to me. That way Max would prop up on my knee and my arms could relax a little. Because really it is so important to relax when you nurse, it makes the milk let-down quicker.
Then one day I went to bed noticing a pain my my right breast. I felt around and didn’t feel anything crazy (I am one of those 0-60 jump to cancer thinkers). Nope. So I went to bed but then I woke up feeling feverish and yucky. I consulted my husband, my mother, and the internet and concluded that I had a plugged duct which could lead to full on mastitis which in the breastfeeding world is considered an awful experience. So I made sure to drain that breast completely and rest and drink fluids. It was a chilly day in November and Max was pre-rolling so he certainly didn’t mind hanging out in bed all day.
By the second day I was feeling much better and went on my merry way.
But I guess after that experience both Max and I favored nursing on my left breast (it probably was a favoritism before the plugged duct that caused the pluggage). Slowly I have come to realize that my breasts are now two different sizes. Like a stark two different sizes. First off, I had to get brand new nursing bras for my breastfeeding breasts. If you can imagine, I measured at a 32G. Yes, a G. So I was sporting some rather large milk bottles. But now one breast is like an F and the other is like a C.
It’s kinda depressing to look in the mirror and its even more depressing to look down and see a wonky chest. When you can see a difference, so can everyone else.
So I miss the old breasts.The ones without stretch marks and who haven’t felt the pain of baby teeth.
When do you know when to stop breastfeeding?
I can’t imagine stopping but obviously I don’t want Max to be five pulling at my shirt. Speaking of shirts. It is really hard to dress to nurse. I miss tucking in shirts and putting belts on things. I really hope that one day my breasts will be the same size again. I don’t care what size, just the same size.