Breastfeeding? Nibble, Nibble, Ouch!
But Baby Knew Best

by Holly
(Portland, OR, USA )

I sighed as I gazed down into his eyes... my son. Finally, I had a son, and I was determined to conquer this "breastfeeding" thing once and for all! He is after all, my third child, and the economy was in the toilet, so it was the best time to claim victory over my biggest fear. "What if I fail as a breastfeeding mom?" Yes. So here I was, taking deep breaths while gazing at my child whom I was nourishing with my own body.

This is the way God intended it to happen, after all - and my prayer was that God would bless me for being so stubborn in pushing through the engorgement, and the leaking.

Then... I saw it. It was a glimmer, a passing ghost in the innocence of his face. Had I not been a mom three times over, I might not have even noticed it... but there was a jovial quality in his eyes... almost a small smirk formed on his face.

I didn't even see it happen. Only when the lightning pain shot up each and every nerve in my left breast did it register, the little bugger BIT ME!

His eyes returned to their soft blue haze, his little fingers gently kneading my breast, life according to HIM returned to normal as I sat there in awe. After we finished feeding, I saw that he had drawn blood... a small growl escaped my lips while I immediately handed him off to his father and plummeted into the notorious world wide web.


Much to my surprise, I wasn't the only one this had ever happened to, though my left breast was whimpering and shaking in a dark corner - attesting to the fact that I was.

So... we tried toys, maybe he was just bored. We tried less time on that side... maybe he emptied it faster. We tried switching sides multiple times in a feeding. All of the suggestions resulted in Chomp... Chomp... Chomp. Each resulting in blood.

Okay, the sighing and gazing had stopped and the constant worrying and tensing up at mere mention of meal time had consumed me. That in itself, was 90% of the problem.

Looking back, I realize that worrying about it, tensing up, the all encompassing panic that reared it's ugly head each and every time he wanted more made it SO MUCH WORSE.

What I finally found out, was that my left side produced less than my right side - and babies, while just babies... aren't completely unintelligent. Especially when it comes to their life source, milk.

He knew - and was trying to get more. Poor guy. So, my breasts are noticeably uneven for a year or so. I can live with that. My victory, was breastfeeding.

I did it. I loved it. I hated it. I did it. I. Did. It!