Before all the breastfeeding zealots ping me with hate mail I am a very happy breastfeeding mum. But everyone goes on about the wonder of it all. Thought it was about time someone told it like it really is!
Waking up and finding that your sheet is soaked through with breast milk and you are lying in it. The post baby wet spot! Which means the bra you are wearing is also soaked through with milk. If you are wearing a bra that is.
Wearing bras 24/7 including to bed. I have been sleeping au natural for 20+ years. I hate sleeping in a bra.
Not being able to wear your normal underwear. I adore matching underwear. It has been something I have indulged in from my very early 20s. I am never not in matching underwear. That was until little missy was about half way cooked. And now almost 10 months since she arrived in the world I still look longingly at my underwear drawer thinking, soon soon…soon my pretties and I will be reunited!
Lopsided boobies. This morning little miss only wanted one side, so I was left with one side somewhat deflated and one bazooka boob. It was even obvious to little miss’s Dad.
Not being able to wear your wardrobe because you need easy access clothes. I will also add having clothes ruined by little hands. My little miss when she was younger liked to grab the top I was wearing when she was feeding. Lets just say I now have a collection of t-shirts with misshapen necks.
Not being able to drink when you want to. Now I’m not an alcoholic, and I didn’t blink about not drinking while pregnant. Though I will admit to a craving for beer and poor dad to be never got the first taste of a bottle as I always took the first swig to get the taste. But I am on occasion partial to a glass of wine, a cold beer, even a top shelf drink – a crisp gin and tonic on a hot summer’s day. And it isn’t that you can’t have any, but any alcoholic beverage must be drunk in a planned fashion. It is the spontaneous drink that I miss.
Speaking of her Dad he would say – ownership – they’re his! When can he have them back?!
The zealots. I am firm believer that how you choose to feed your child is your choice. This is old news now, but in an anti smoking ad in NZ Piri Weepu, who is an All Black, happened to be bottle feeding his daughter. That to me is a wonderful role model – a father feeding his daughter. Who would have known if there was breast milk or formula in the bottle. But they ended up pulling that image from the campaign because of pro-breast feeding organisations concerns. Madness.
I was a bottle feed baby, as was my other half. We are both very well adjusted, healthy people. I had a very pragmatic approach to feeding. My Mum had not been able to breast feed; not my elder siblings in the 1950s or me in the 1970s. My plan was to give it a go, and if did not work we were going to formula feed. I was not going to tear my hair out trying to make it work. And I was not going to feel guilty about it. Now I consider myself incredibly lucky as it really has been a blissful experience. My daughter cottoned on to breastfeeding like a pro – quicker than her mother I suspect! And we did not have any major hiccups. The plan was to take it as it comes. Let’s get to 6 weeks, maybe 3 months, and then 6 months became the long term goal. We are at almost 10 months. Even with me returning to work part time and having to start pumping, walking to and from work with my cooler bag and pump! But this is because it has been my choice the whole way, with a very supportive other half. And that is how I think it should be for everyone – their choice.