Breaking the Code

I am nursing Baby C for now, although last week I was ready to ditch the whole enterprise and go straight to formula. Heck, I would have gone straight to a chemical-laden, artificial everything, magical drug elixir if it had been an option.

Before I gave birth, all of my Mommy Friends said that breastfeeding "does take some getting used to." That's actually code for "breastfeeding is the most excruciatingly painful thing you will ever experience." It hurts like hell - and that's the G-rated version of what I was saying last week. It can involve blisters on places that have never seen the light of day. It can involve scabs on those same places. And blood. And you know the pain awaits you every two to three hours, and you have been scared by the LaLeche league not to even let your baby look at a bottle for fear of causing them "nipple confusion."

Add in some sleep deprivation and post-partum hormones and you have quite the recipe for fun. Just ask my husband, who made the grave mistake of trying to give me helpful breastfeeding pointers he remembered from the parenting class we took. Not helpful, husband.

Experts say that breastfeeding only hurts if you are doing something wrong, which means that on top of mind-numbing, white-knuckle pain, you feel like a failure as a new mother. Not helpful, experts.

Although I had no reason to trust my Mommy Friends, when I called them in agony, their new story was that the pain would go away after a couple of hard days. Greg, figuring I might not unleash my hormonal wrath on a complete stranger, called in a lactation consultant. She had a few good tips, but it was mostly a matter of time. We survived the initiation period. Baby C is gaining weight. Best of all, New Mommy has stopped crying. But don't say she didn't warn you.