A Bleb in the Road

I am no stranger to breastfeeding adversity.

The uncertainty, doubt, and worry of undertaking a BFAR relationship is something I have talked about on a few occasions. Taking on a task that should come naturally when your anatomy has been augmented takes a lot of research, determination, and a lot of faith.

Even after leaking colostrum for the last weeks of my pregnancy, putting my child to breast and waiting for my milk to "come in" was still a bit of a hail marry attempt. An attempt that I had little real medical support in undertaking (that's another post altogether).

With the overwhelming success of my breastfeeding experience to date, I literally felt bullet proof, like there was nothing that could stop us now. Well, there isn't really anything that could stop us now... But there are apparently things that can give me a little more understanding for those who do give it up early.

I have a bleb. Otherwise known as a milk blister. I am not sure exactly how or when I got it, but the fact remains that nursing Oliver on my right side is becoming increasingly painful.

Thanks to twitter friends and awesome online resources like kellymom.com I know how to treat myself physically. I have started an Epsom salt and hot compress regiment, and am attempting a couple different nursing positions to alleviate the pressure a bit.

But I am unsure about how to come to terms with it emotionally.

Not the milk blister itself anyways. I mean, what is there to overcome emotionally about a milk blister? Aside from the really gross reality that I have a blister filled with breast milk bulging out of my nipple?

It's surely taken the wind out of my sales that's for sure. I find myself deterring and distracting Oliver when he wants to nurse (which I know is a big no no and can lead to other problems). Which makes me feel sad and guilty, not only am I refusing (well, delaying anyways) his comfort and nourishment, but I have never not wanted to nurse him before.

I love nursing; I would happily sit on my ass and breastfeed all day long if I could. For the closeness and bonding, it's relaxing and calming for both of us, and because it's a welcome break chasing him around the house now that he's mobile. I take pride in making milk for him. Every ounce he gains is triumphant and glorious.

But now that I am experiencing pain and discomfort I find myself not so willing to spend hours letting him come and go, playing and nursing as he pleases.

I know that the blep is temporary, but this dramatic shift it's caused in our daily routine is disconcerting. We are both put off by it, and well, it just really really sucks. For now I am trying to encourage comfort cuddling over comfort nursing, taking extra care to ensure a good latch at every feeding, and praying that this thing goes away very soon.

I wouldn't dream of weaning because of a tiny Bleb on the road, but boy is it tough to face each feeding with excitement and enthusiasm when there are problems.

BFAR, Breasts, and Body Image

This post is participating in the Body Image Carnival being hosted by Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite! and MamanADroit who will be posting articles on themes pertaining to body image all week! Make sure you check out their blogs everyday between April 12-18 for links to other participants' posts as well as product reviews, a giveaway, and some links to research, information and resources pertaining to body image.

As a BFAR mother it isn't easy to admit to yourself or others that there could possibly be any draw backs to breastfeeding.

Every Woman who has ever been told that she may not be able to breastfeed knows the relief, pride, and joy at being able to breastfeed, whether exclusively or with the aid of at the breast supplementation systems. The months before birth are filled with constant reading and research, and many prayers that you will be able to instantly sooth and satisfy your baby unaided and with the fluidity and grace that nature intended.

For me in particular, the fact that my body is able to exclusively breastfeed is nothing short of a miracle to me and I thank the gods and goddesses every day that I have had this experience. Because it wasn’t always a given for me I feel as though I get to appreciate breastfeeding so much more than I would had I never had my reduction surgery, or been told that I may not be able to breastfeed because of it.

Every milky smile, every ounce my baby gains, even the dark wet circles that occasionally appear on my shirts are sources of great pride for me. They are each their own triumph and success. They are each a sign of my power and worth as a woman.

And yet, the many and varied reasons I had for undergoing breast reduction surgery did not simply go away the day I became a mother. The growth in size of my breasts during pregnancy and in breastfeeding is no less uncomfortable and undesirable to me just because they are suddenly functional.

Regardless of my husband's reassurances, and my son's health and happiness it still bothers me that my breasts are now only 2 cup sizes away from what they were pre surgery. All of the dainty dresses, tops, bathing suits, and bras that I had delighted in after my recovery are once again off limits to me, and the stress and pain of the surgery and my recovery feel as though they were for nothing.

Just as it did before my surgery, clothing makes me feel like a shapeless blob, as though with these massive breasts preceding me into every room the rest of my body, my personality, my entire self just melts into the background.

As proud as I am with myself for meeting all of my breastfeeding goals, I am none the less disappointed with my body for changing so dramatically, and disappointed with myself for being disappointed, for being so vain. I have trouble accepting that my size and shape are signs of fertility, motherhood, and womanhood, and that I should be proud of what my body has been able to do in the last year.