Confessions of a tittie wrangler.
I'm doing my motherly duty, I breastfeed. Ok, let's get something stated for those sensitive Mommy’s who are quick to get your feeling stepped on. SCRAM!! This isn't the blog for you. If you weren't able to breastfeed then your motherly duty didn't involve your titties. For the sake of this blog, my titties have a job. Now moving on. Y'all the shit does wonders for children. Benefits you ask? YES!! Benefits. Such as a boost of your infants immune system. Who doesn't like a healthy baby? There is an availability of warm milk at babies beckoning. Score!!! Hell, you can always use it as an excuse to get off the phone. "Hey um, I've got to call you back. Baby gotta eat". I'm sure there are other benefits worth mentioning, but this is MY blog.
Now let's get to the truth. Breastfeeding is fucking hard. It's like trying to win the mother of the year award every got damn day. Let's go over some things that I can do without:
1. Titty wrangling is without a doubt high on my list of can do without. What is “TW” you ask? That's what I call sticking my nipple into a sucking contraption (no not the baby) that pulls milk into a bottle. Some of y’all call it a breast pump. I call it “the trap house”. And no, it’s not pink (insider for Atlantans). Once my nipple is in the trap house, it pulls the milk from my breast. Now what happens after my nipple is inserted involves me literally pushing, squeezing, and shoving the flesh of my breast into the trap. Imagine that you are late to work and you have to brush your teeth. However, you only have a little bit of toothpaste left in the tube. How do you get that last little bit of paste out so that your breath doesn’t STANK? Yeah, tittie wrangling! Trying to squeeze every drop of milk from the milk glands by torturing my breast. Insert your favorite pain emoji here__________!
2. THRUSH!! Or Yeast on your nipple. The pain of that when a baby latches on is pretty close to just setting them bitches on fire. But guess what? If you don’t express the milk, you lose it. So, fire to my nipples it is. There is no fire hydrant close. The next best thing to feeling better is walking around with your tits hanging out until they have air dried. This sort of thing doesn’t work when there is a 15 year old walking around. His mom’s tits aren’t as perky as they used to be and I can’t have him needing therapy because he was repulsed by them.
3. OMG pumping at work. Not sure I even need to elaborate on this subject. Carrying around the trap house with the breast pads, empty bottles, and breast freezer bags. This is more of a headache than painful. I once had to have my infants dad leave his home to bring me the “trap” all the way down to my job so that I could pump. I mean, I am trying to win mom of the year right??? Pumping at work where there are these young ass millennials wondering, i’m sure, what I am doing twice a day everyday when I go into a room and shut the door. Only to emerge with my clothing disheveled holding a bottle of bio hazardous material/breast milk. Running it to the fridge to hide it in the secret compartment so that no one is grossed out. I feel like some crazy 007 mom lurking around the office holding my weapon of choice.
4. Breastfeeding in public ugh this one is a doozy. Like I said above, “baby gotta eat” right? Well, most people prefer that the eatn happens outside of the eye shot of sensitive ass folks. I am always torn between, whipping out my non perky tits not giving a damn who sees or running to the privacy of my non tinted windows car. I generally choose the car. But then there was that one time when I took my infant to the zoo and he got hungry. No car in sight. NOPE, not feeding my child in the nasty ass bathroom. But, hey look, there’s a bench with no one around over there. Well, no one around until i took my tittie out that is. Why is that by the way? I mean what is it? People have this radar of when to show up at the wrong damn time. So now my breast is out, the baby is crying i’m halfway between trying to un-wrangle the blanket to cover him up and pull my shirt down to cover the nipple. All while balancing him on my legs. Flustered that I can’t get my shit together and losing all cool headedness, “fuck these people” is beginning to rise up in my spirit. And so, well, now he’s eating, i’m semi covered, and those people...they better be looking at the damn giraffes and not my tits.
I loves my baby, “lawd knows I do” #colorpurplereference! I love giving him breast milk and providing to him what nature has to offer. I love how he holds my finger while he gets his milk. I love that he looks me in my eyes with such an intensity, as if to say, “I love you mommy”. And for those reasons I will continue to torture myself, humiliate myself, and endure whatever pain it takes to give him what he needs. Oh and to win mommy of the year. :)
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