Have a Better Day

*This post, though G-rated, is about breast-feeding. Consider yourself warned, brothers.*

*pic from La Leche League

"Have a better day." These are the words the kind Doctor uttered after sending me on my way with a handful of prescriptions after I visited him on Saturday. For months and months, I've been experiencing excruciating pain while nursing. Both sides. All the time. Pain so bad that at times I could have sworn Diddles had sprouted teeth and was biting me. Pain so intense I would sometimes see stars it hurt so badly.

"Heeeeeeeh" The Viper

Before I had kids I always planned on nursing my babies. My mom seemed to be a natural at it, and I figured it was just "easy". All the pictures and articles made it look beautiful and relaxing and natural. But honestly, nursing has NEVER been an easy and natural thing for me.

When Boo was born I struggled through learning about positioning and latch. It hurt! I remember watching a lot of TV to distract myself from the pain. Toe-curling pain.

I was anxious and stressed and I know I didn't eat or drink like a nursing mother should. After a full feeding, Boo would still cry for more. I finally caved and started her on formula to supplement. I eventually lost all my milk and she became a formula baby at about four months.



Most people wouldn't think this was a big deal, but I did. I felt like a failure. A defective failure who couldn't even feed her own baby. I felt so badly hearing other mothers complaining about their freezers full of excess milk, and having to wake up their babies to feed them. Not only that, but the expense of formula at a time when we didn't have much extra made me feel so guilty. In hindsight, it worked out fine and for the best. I was called as Relief Society President and often had to pass Boo, along with a bottle to another sister to feed her. Boo was also a thumb-sucker. When she wasn't being fed, she could suck her thumb and snug her zee-zee.

When Yaks was born, I was determined. He was destined to be a breast-fed baby, even if it killed me. I requested a lactation specialist the moment they wheeled me into the recovery room. I had a list of questions to ask her, and made sure upon leaving that I knew what I was doing. The best gem of wisdom she gave me was this: "Nursing hurts at first. It does! It sometimes hurts for a good six weeks, but keep at it." Keep at it. I had to. We really couldn't afford formula, and I again was so determined to make it work, I kept at it.
Yaks was born crying, and the poor guy didn't quit until he was about six months old. He wasn't gassy, didn't have reflux, wasn't sick, he was just fussy. The only thing I could find to comfort him was me...nursing. I was a human binkie. It was hard to be so tied down with a baby during a time when I already had an 18-month old baby. I purchased a pump to try to get a break by giving him a bottle, but I could never pump more than an ounce! I finally got him to take a binkie at about six months and then weaned him off of me and onto a bottle at about 13 months. Thirteen months.

And then there was Diddle-brains. Life was pretty tumultuous at the time she was born, but I felt equipped with my past knowledge and experience to deal with the woes of nursing another baby. I felt confident. Things were going fine, and then December rolled around and the pain started. Poor latch? Clogged duct? Infection? Then I developed this strange rash that itched, flaked and burned. Then I started cracking. Painful open sores. It was horrific. I couldn't figure out what it was. I tried giving her a bottle, a binkie, anything to give me a break to heal. She doesn't take either. I called our local "lactation specialist" in our area, who was basically a mom sitting in her living room with her own kids to tend to. She didn't have any ideas for me. So, I just chalked it up that I had an "aggressive nurser", grimaced and bore it feeding after feeding after feeding.

Finally last week when I could bear it no more, I looked up my symptoms:

Thrush. I have Thrush. I went to the doctor and said, "I have Thrush." He took a look, grimaced and said, "Yeah, you have Thrush."

Easily treatable. Diddles is likely the carrier and since she is an older baby, she wasn't developing those white patches in her mouth which signal a problem. She has some medicine I apply to her mouth four times a day for 10 days. I took two pills and felt better than I've felt in months within 24 hours of taking it!

I've had Thrush constantly since before Christmas.

I feel so dumb that it was such an easy fix, but I was too...proud/stubborn/ignorant/clueless to ask someone for help. I've wasted so much time feeling physically horrible! It's affected my sleep, and my day-to-day relationships with my family. More than anything, I'm just so grateful there was a cure! I'm so thankful for good health and for medicine to make things better.

"Sorry, Mom."

"That's okay, Littles."

Saturday I did my grocery shopping with a sleeping Diddles strapped in the front-pack. When I was unloading my groceries, another mother behind me offered to help. I accepted her help and then thanked her. She said, "We've gotta stick together." So true. I'm not sure if this post will help anyone out there, but it's true that we women have got to stick together! I'm here for you. I know you're there for me too.