Not-so-fun funbags

The other day I’m sitting on my sofa showing off my new most gorgeous baby in the whole wide world to a visitor when suddenly he begins to suck my nose. The baby, not the visitor. Everyone in the room starts to laugh including myself, but this is just a cover-up to what’s really going through my head. Oh shit. Time to feed.

So I whip out my nursing cover and tuck the little guy underneath where no one can see that I suck at breastfeeding. I suck and he doesn’t. This is the problem. After about 15 attempts and a ton of fear that I’m accidentally giving him the Vulcan nerve pinch, I ask my husband to get the pliers out of the toolbox so I can pry open this kid’s mouth. By the time I’m able to explain to my husband what the pliers look like, I’ve gotten him to latch.

As Holden is chewing his way up my nipple like a piranha chomping his way up a swimmer’s leg in a horror movie, I feel a cool breeze rush under the cover. What the? I look over and the person who’s visiting us has purposely pulled the cover aside to take a peek. Think you read that wrong? You didn’t. I’ll repeat. She purposely pulled the cover aside to take a peak. What, did she think I was just wearing the nursing cover as a decorative accessory? Yes, I haven’t showered in three days, and I’ve worn the same pants for three months, but for some reason I think it’d be attractive to wear a large piece of cloth like a giant bib just for the hell of it. Hello lady, it’s there for a reason!

I gently pull the nursing cover back over my child who’s turning purple because he poops every time he finally latches, and I manage to politely tell her to buy a ticket to the French Mediterranean if she wants to see topless women.

To which she replies, “There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Breastfeeding is beautiful.”

Okay, so she’s either a hippie, a lactation consultant or she’s never breastfed before. You see, breastfeeding might be beautiful once you’ve been doing it for months, but to the newly breastfeeding mom, breastfeeding is akin to the torture you might encounter in a Turkish prison. Imagine a serial killer holding a blowtorch to your nipples, or red ants eating your boobs from the inside out, or getting pierced by thousands of needles in your not-so-fun funbags. Now multiply all three of those by a billion and you have what it feels like when you first start to breastfeed.

Semi-related question: Is it wrong to duct tape my kid to my boob the next time he latches so we don’t have to go through this every two to three hours? My husband says it is, but what does he know. He’s still trying to find the pliers.

A note from the author:

I don’t mean to discourage anyone from breastfeeding. The benefits to baby’s health is priceless, as is the benefits to mommy’s health… if you don’t take her mental health into consideration.

No animals were harmed in the writing of this blog. Just a mom. Over and over and over again.

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