My boobs have been quite the topic of conversation lately. My husband talks about them to his brothers, his work colleagues, his parents. I talk about them to my friends, my parents, Johns parents, the list goes on. Ever since I got this dreaded lump which turned into mastitis our world has revolved around my boobs. Specifically the dodgy left one.
As I sit here, nearly 10pm and type this I want to scream I’m done. I’m in agony. Sophie has fed just about non stop for 7 hours. She hasn’t slept when she wasn’t feeding. I can’t even begin to describe the pain I’m in. At the moment childbirth seems like a breeze.
Basically I want to give up. I want my milk to bugger off to wherever it came from. I want to be able to sleep on my side without pains in my breasts. I want to get back into bed after a feed & not have to pack my bra with ice packs. I want to pick my baby up and hold her & not wince at the pain. But I feel an immense amount of guilt. I’ve got milk so I should be using it. I should breastfeed for at least 6 months. Why? Because that’s just what I feel I ‘have’ to do. I’ve never & will never judge a mum for not breastfeeding. But I just can’t seem to take the failure to breastfeed judgement off myself.
I wake on Saturday and after a crappy night feel no better, and neither does my boob. I called the Lactation Consultant who came over and gave me news I didn’t want to hear. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got an abscess”. To cut a long story short it turned out my Obstertrician was on duty that weekend at the hospital so after some phone calls we got a hold of him and he agreed to see me in the birthing suites.
After an ultrasound it was confirmed that indeed I did have a breast abscess. 2.5 inches wide and 1.1cm deep. After telling me he’d never drained a breast asbcess before my obstertrician did just that, and drained it. 2 needles and a near heart attack later I was relieved that the lump should be well on its way to buggering off.
Then after a check up visit to the doctor this morning I was upset but not surprised to learn that the bloody abscess had filled up again. It seems my left boob is a cool place to hang out. Thankfully the doctor was straight on the phone to a Breast Surgeon, and there I was off to another doctor. As I sat in the Breast Surgeon’s office thinking I’d have to go in for surgery, Sophie started to get restless. Yep, it was coming up for her feed time. I just wanted to cry. I’d realised I’d forgotten to pack wipes as I sat there and listened to Sophie’s bottom play the drums. The lady sitting next to me began to giggle, and I figured I may as well laugh too!
Thankfully I wasn’t whisked off for surgery, the surgeon drained it again, confident he had got it all. And I tell you what, I bloody hope he got it all. 4 needles stuck in my boob in 3 days is just about all I can handle.
So even after all this I’m still breastfeeding. They in fact recommend that you keep feeding. A part of me wants to give up, but a bigger part of me wants to keep going. If I have to go through all this again though I’m not sure I’ll feel the same. If this has taught me anything, it’s that I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was. And with my gorgeous baby girl as motivation, I know we’ll be fine.