Apr 3, 2023

My dear breasts,

As someone who’s never graduated from an A cup since high school, I never gave you much thought. I am never too concerned about you because how insignificant you are. You are like second next to appendicitis, nice to have but meh… not super useful. It is weird to say, because as a woman, people sing songs about you. Even today at my age (35yo to be completely transparent) after being married and having a baby, my own mother still tells me to eat stewed papaya with milk and do chest exercises to facilitate breast tissue growth. But just as appendicitis, it is pretty chill when they do what they are supposed to do, which is pretty much nothing, until something is wrong then it is all hell break loose. And here we go, that is when your teeny tiny body is assigned with a huge responsibility – to feed a human being (they say size don’t matter). Holy cow…

I thought I had the whole breastfeeding thing in my pocket very early on. Keep on reading so you will see how wrong I was. Around 35 weeks into my pregnancy, one day I woke up with a perfectly round stain on my night gown. I looked into the mirror and thought it was a tooth paste stain at first. But shouldn’t tooth paste present as a “drop pattern” rather than being so round? Ah yes I know a thing or two about stains from watching a lot of crime series. Then I realized, ohhhh…

I immediately went to my doctor – Dr. Google and asked him if pregnant woman can produce milk before labor, and the answer is yes. And it is actually quite common and I should consider myself lucky to see breast change at this stage. I also learned a new word – colostrum, which is this thick sticky breast milk that is considered liquid gold for babies. Then I had an emergency C-section, maybe I could journal about that another time, but anyways, typically new moms who had a C-section have their milk supply a bit after moms who deliver vaginally. But I was lucky enough to produce quite some colostrum to meet my baby’s needs. Great, right? So my breastfeeding journey seemingly has kicked off to a great start.

The first two days I thought everything was going so smoothly and was just constantly amazed at how nature worked, like “oh you put the baby to the breasts and he is drinking”. Too naïve, because nobody tells you that your nipples will go through a “break in” period and it takes a bit of time for the skin to wear and tear. On the second day after delivery, I was all proud and happy how I got him to nurse so easily, then the lactation consultant came in, took one look at us and said I was holding him wrong. I beg your pardon? Then she showed me the different ways to hold him, and how my holding position could not dictate where his head is going, hence he is not latching deep enough. Ok I will try your way. But that kind of hurts my ego and confidence, for sure.

The three days in the hospital was hell. Well, it is not very fair to say, because if or when I have a second baby, I probably would still choose them. However, the amount of “care” you receive is almost obnoxious. Once I got home, I was relieved in the beginning, at least there was nobody coming in every hour to poke at me. I decided to do what was working and thinking as long as he is fed and seems happy, I should not change a thing. About one week into it, that stopped working, because my skin was finally worn. My nipples were chafing and I got a nipple bleb on one side. Don’t bother googling that, I will just tell you what it is. It is a white zit on your nipple trapping breast milk under the skin, so the milk duct is clogged and it hurts like hell. Yet, I pride myself as a tough little bird so I continued to breastfeed.

I remember for about two weeks, every time my husband jokingly asking our son if he is hungry, I would be in panic mode clenching my teeth ready to just “power through” another nursing session. I talked to some lactation consultant and tried a few self-help tips, it finally got better after about another week. During this time, I also tried to pump. The nursing and the pumping took all the time and energy left in me, plus the worries about weight gain really threw me off balance. There is probably the hormones too. I would cry over nothing, I mean like really bawling my eyes out. Luckily I have some really good friends who have either just gone through or is going through similar situation, so with the very little time on hands, I was talking to them so I am not alone in this. Finally the bleb was ok, still there, but did not hurt as much.

Then I developed something else – vasospasm, another word that I would never know if not breastfeeding. What is it? It is this sharp needling pain going on for about twenty minutes each time after nursing, especially at night. So at 3AM after nursing him for about half an hour, the whole world is back to sleep, I am curling up in bed holding my two breasts like they are about to explode. Once the pain is finally gone, so is my sleep. I saw three different lactation consultants and they have given me wonderful tips about how to continue nursing “if it doesn’t hurt too much”, so I decided that it hurt too much and I should just pump exclusively. I think there will be questions/comments/judgements here about pain threshold because that is just what society do, so I will take a minute to interject here – I actually have a high pain threshold. I was having contractions for two days, dilating to six centimeters without any pain medication and losing blood, walking for 40 minutes the next day after discharge to take my son for his first pediatrician appointment, so don’t you question a woman’s capability to handle pain next time you hear it. Just take their words for it. (Even if it is someone with a lower pain threshold, does that mean their pain is less valid? No.)

Ok back to the breastfeeding - It was not just physically painful, it was also affecting my bonding with my son. I remember looking at him and just thinking how much it is going to hurt the next time he is hungry. My brain was starting to associate baby’s hunger with pain, which is very unhealthy so I knew I needed to nip it in the bud. The wonderful “oh how mother nature works miracle” feeling is far out the window. It is time to recoup and supplement formula before the pumping establishes.

But I felt ashamed, even though every doctor, nurse, experienced mom told me it is very common, almost expected to supplement formula before the breast milk comes in. I did not know where that shame came from; I was not rational. My hormones hijacked my logical brain and convinced me that I was an inadequate mother.

On my 6 week postpartum appointment, it was a new OB I was seeing but I did not care. I was trying very hard to compose myself while waiting for her, but the minute she came in and asked me how I am doing, I burst out in tears. But I was courageous enough to tell her what was going on in my mind, which is this:

I felt like a byproduct to the baby since his birth. Everybody surrounding me kept asking how he is doing and no one gave a shit about ME. Me – the woman who went through 10 months of pregnancy and then an open stomach surgery, being sent home three days after and expected to feed this tiny little baby using a part of her body she never cared much for. And what made me struggle even more is that I feel like I did not have the right to feel this way.

Let me explain, I have a supportive husband who is ready to make formula and no in-laws giving me unsolicited advice, and mom friends who told me “fed is best”, so I had a lot of emotional support as anyone could ask for. But I still felt broken and defeated, and there is this extra layer of guilt feeling that I am not even entitled to my feelings because I had those support. Now imagine the people without the support? I dare you not.

Today, my baby is 3 months old. He has gained a healthy weight and I’ve been exclusively pumping/breastfeeding for 1 1/2 months. So literally all this struggle lasted for about six weeks, yet it felt so long and dreadful and isolating.

While I was typing this down, I was also wondering how come as a woman I pay so little attention to, or almost intentionally neglect you - my dear breasts. One particular incident popped up, and I guess I could share. I was in middle school and my body was changing, but my parents were not attuned to my changes yet. One day, I was heading back to school for the afternoon classes after a quick lunch at home, there was a man walking alongside me. Out of nowhere, he started to talk to me and this is what he said “you are not wearing a bra, are you?” I froze and continued to walk like a zombie to school. That is the day, I decided to cut my waist-length hair short and dress in a tomboy style. I don’t know if this is too far stretching in the attempt to connect the dots, but I probably remember that day so vividly for a reason.

Another thing very interesting to me is that how quickly you become a popular dinner table topic among strangers once they learn that I am a new mother. It is phenomenal how the sexual connotation usually associated with you suddenly got tossed out of the window and you became sacred and pure and innocent now. But as the woman and the mother, I would still like my privacy so please leave my breasts out of the social chat, unless like now the owner brings it up first. After all, you’ve suffered enough and now I decide to give you a little love that you deserve all along.