WAS I BAD IN ANOTHER LIFE OR SOMETHING?????
This has been another rough week. I wish I could tell you differently. Most of you should stop reading here because the rest is about nursing. And it's gory.
Last week I got some crater of a sore on my nipple. I didn't realize how bad it was (other than the swear words emitted every time someone latched on), until the babies started spitting up blood. Lots of it. Mine. So I had no choice but to pump. Sure enough, big drops of blood coming out. So I tried to adjust the pressure and do it lightly. I pumped for 24 hours. Fed again. More spitting up blood. Pumped for 48 more hours. Fed again. Still spitting it up. Pumped for 72 more hours. Fed again. Spitting up a lot of it.
No surprise with the open wound, that now I have full-blown, knock me out mastitis. AGAIN. So even if I decided now were the time to give up breastfeeding, I can't, because now I have to get the milk out to get the infection out.
I would say, they're 6 months old now. That's fine to stop. But truthfully, it's the only thing I can actually do well. The doctor who thought I was mentally unstable asked if nursing them was causing me stress. When I thought about it, I realized, "Actually no. It's the only thing I can do well. It's the only thing I can do at the same time, no one's crying, everyone's happy, and I can even have my hands free, which I can't always do with bottle feeding."
And off goes Ryan to be on call tonight. I can't actually even move. I appreciate the sympathy. I really just needed to vent.
At least I spared you the picture of the last bottle of red milk I just pumped.