The Breastfeeding Mom

My milk jugs bring all the babies to the yard...

So. At this point I'm fairly certain that it's clear what this post is about, but for those not sure, this week I shall be blogging about my Milk Cannons, Boobie Bar, or Baboo's as Thing 1 lovingly refers to them. For those of you a bit squeamish about titty talk, maybe give this post a miss?

For everyone else, sit back, relax and enjoy gratuitous shots of my décolletage. Because sex sells, yo. JK. There is nothing sexy about these milk filled bastards.

I want to preface this post by saying, however you fed/feed your spawn is a-ok with me. Breast is best. Fed is best. Burritos are best. I mean. Maybe burritos aren't the best to option for a baby? But what I'm saying is, I don't give a flying fart how you nourish your baby. Being a new mom is hard enough without stressing about the comments or judgement from the peanut gallery when you whip out a boob, or bottle of formula.

Personally, I can't for the life of me understand why the hell people get so fired up about the issue. Who cares? Beyond the end of your nipple (bottle or body) there really shouldn't be an opinion on how someone else feeds their child. Maybe because I managed to breastfeed Thing 1 for 2 years, or I ate my placenta (ooooo girl, another day another blog post) but people seem to expect me to be against anything except boobie juice. I know how so many things can go tits up (hot damn. that analogy was MADE for that context) in regards to establishing breastfeeding, so I am totes grateful it went off fairly easy with Thing 1.

*A diet Homer Simpson would be proud of*

While I was really excited to try bf'ing with my newb, I also knew there were so many factors out of my control that might affect that. Latch and milk supply are a couple of the biggies. Luckily for me, Thing 1 came out and was ready for Baboos. Her latch seemed good and judging by my granite hard milk cannons, the supply was there. A few days in, it was found that she had a pretty severe tongue tie. It was quickly fixed but the damage had been done. God that sounds dramatic. I mean her tongue tie, resulted in a piss poor latch and my nipples looked like shredded beef. I started using Nipple Shields to help them heal through the constant feeds. Despite trying to go without, Thing 1 refused to feed without the shields.

The midwife that came by just a few days after being released from the hospital wasn't shy in telling me that I might as well just bottle feed her since the shields are the same thing.Using them didn't make me a real breast feeding mom. I felt like a failure and mumbled an apology and grand plans to get my 8 day old weaned off of them. I should have told her to suck it and squirted some milk on her. What an a-hole. You are supposed to be my support and I'm feeding my baby in a way that works for us. So why take a dump on my parade? Despite those damn shields, Thing 1 managed to grow and thrive. We survived through all the horrendous cluster feeding, sleep regressions, teething and had a damn good time doing it...

When I thought about what it would be like to feed my baby, I envisioned these beautiful moments. Holding my nursling close to my body. Kissing her little fingers. Looking down at my bundle of joy and tearing up at the beauty and wonderment of our bond. O yeah. Plus looking fly as hell. Now that I had a nice set of lady lumps (in the back and in the front), I would finally ascend into MILF status. I was wrong. Dead wrong. (and these subsequent 2 pictures are literally the only semi-acceptable ones I have.)

This is what it looked like. (For me at least. I'm sure there are plenty of fly looking nursing moms. I was NOT one of them.) The first 6 months I did my hair and makeup approximately 1 time. Which means all of my brelfies (breast feeding selfies) look like this. Au natural and crazy eyed. Being a bonafide Milk Vampire, Thing 1 could never get enough. This meant feeds every half hour when regression and leaps were all at their worst. Regression and leaps. If you don't know those words, count yourself lucky...and don't have a kid.

I joke. I joke. Having a kid kinda rules. But also kinda sucks. The line is too thin to differentiate. That first year yields some astounding growth and development in your baby. But as that growth and development seemed to coincide with Thing 1's shit, shitty, mcshitterson, sleep. The only thing she took solace in, all day and night, were my tig 'ol bitties.

and that was rough.

REALLY f bombing rough.

There were so many times I was over-tired, over-touched and over breastfeeding.

For those wanting to breastfeed. Don't let this tired old Mom dissuade you! I didn't do it for 2 years for nothing. There were moments that were damn hard and I wanted to quit, but those were fleeting in the bigger picture. I loved it. Loved being able to draw my baby close when she needed reassurance, or toddler to avoid an epic bitch fit. I loved feeding her into a milk coma in my arms. When she was sick or teething, sometimes baboos were the only thing that seemed to help. And being the basic mom that I am, I enjoyed the hell out of a good old fashioned Snapchat brelfie.

On the grand scale of things. I feel really lucky that we were able to bf with minimal issues. I never had to worry about supply and our latch issue was quickly addressed. So many women try their damnedest and despite that, can't establish the breastfeeding relationship that they desperately want. Or a stubborn baby that refuses to latch and only wants a bottle. I've heard countless of my friends stories and they were all relayed to me with almost a sense of guilt. And that sucks. While I was getting shitty comments about needing to use a shield, or daring to feed in public, so were they about using formula.

Some women don't feed, and some do well into toddlerhood. Who the eff cares? Whip out those tittays or bottles and tell all the nosy hood rats where to stuff their opinion. I cannot reiterate enough, however you feed your baby that works the best for your family is the best method.

One of my best friends had a baby. It seemed like breastfeeding him went off without a hitch. Things that I way overanalysed and Google'd in tears, she just naturally picked up. We were on FaceTime and while I was in awe of my friend popping out such a cute kid and breastfeeding so easily. Tears started pouring down her face. She was doing what she thought she should be doing but was absolutely miserable. Felt isolated and depressed. She hated breastfeeding. But did it day in and out for her son. She wanted him to have the best and she didn't see what it was costing her to give it. It's not such an easy natural, easy thing for some women, AND THAT'S OK! We talked about pumping, or even formula and she looked so relieved to have other options. I'm sure plenty of people would have an opinion about this. Breast is best blah blah blah. Do you know what's best? A fed baby. Feeding your baby with a smile, not tears. So again, whatever works for the baby and you is the best way to feed them.

Having a newborn is freakin' brutal. Savage. Wonderful. Intense. Gnarly. Uncertain. That phase passes so quickly. Though, in the thick of it is an eternity. So enjoy the hell out of it. You are a rad, amazing, bomb ass Mom no matter how you feed your baby. Dude. That was motivational as shiiiiiiit! Just keep doing you, baby girl and remember, Momish has been there so you are never alone. (how annoying is it that I refer to myself as Momish? My name is Krystal. Which is far too stripper-y for my taste. So Momish suits me just fine!)