BYOBoobs

One of the perks of pregnancy - and later, breastfeeding - is bigger boobs.  Or so many people think.  I can't count the number of prospective daddies I've heard express their fondness for their baby mamas' baby boobs.  Gross.  But true.

Once upon a time, I had looked forward to nice, big, baby boobs, too.  That was before I had a boob job.  Now, I'm not reliant on lactation to pump mine up, so it wasn't such a big deal.  What's that?? you ask - Fake boobs??  Yes.  It's true - they're fake (and they're fabulous) ;).  It's never been a secret.  But learning that my boobs are fake often prompts several questions, so here are the answers:

Can you breastfeed with breast implants?  I could!  It was a consideration of mine when I was making the decision to get them, and my surgeon told me that 80% of women with breast implants are still able to breastfeed - which I think is pretty good, considering not 100% of women are ale to breastfeed successfully or adequately anyway.  I was in the 80% majority, and breastfed my baby without any problems.

Does breastfeeding still wreck your boobs if they're fake?  Um, yes :(  Maybe this isn't true for all women, but many women experience sagging, stretchmarks, deflation, etcetera after breastfeeding, and I can tell you, gravity affects fake boobies, too.  They're still "good" - probably better than most people's real boobs (yes, I am being conceited here, but if you paid as much for your boobs as I did mine, you'd be conceited, too)...but they used to be "perfect". I have a few faint stretch marks, and they're just generally softer - and not in a good way.  I should add this disclaimer, though: maybe it's not the breastfeeding that wrecks boobs...maybe it's just the enlargement from filling up with milk, whether you decide to use it or not - I dunno - not a doctor, just a mommi...who once had amazing boobs...sigh.

If natural boobs get bigger with lactation, what happens to fake ones?  Oh, man...let me tell you.  Before baby, I was a 32 large C/small D (depending on bra brand).  I didn't notice a huge increase while pregnant - I did have breast tenderness - A LOT of breast (particularly nipple) tenderness), which suggests that something was happening, but I wore my regular bras throughout my pregnancy (plus some lovely nighttime bras, because they hurt so much). AND THEN... it must have happened during labour or something...but I became a 32G. 

!!! G !!!

It was insane.  It was gross.  They were massive.  I don't even know how I stayed upright.  They were shiny and veiny...however, they also defied gravity, and stayed up - I could even wear a strapless bra.  Friends got endless amusement from observing the resulting size difference when I had fed my baby on one side and not the other, or from watching my boobs go from fitting in a dress or bikini top, to overflowing it.  Haha, funny funny - just not for me :s

I had to pump.  I wanted to pump in order to get a store of milk going so that I might one day venture out into the world solo, leaving breastmilk behind for my baby - but I also had to, because they'd get so painfully large that I'm sure I might have otherwise exploded. I have fond memories of using a hand pump in the front seat of a pick up truck on the way home from a concert - the first time I had spent 6 hours away from my baby since his birth.

Pumping sucked.  I felt like a cow.  It was time consuming, inconvenient, and embarrassing.  It was often painful - probably because I set my machine to too hard and fast, in the interest of saving time.  The worst part was the time it took to clean all the parts after pumping.  I got no help with that.  In fact, my then-husband was quite disgusted by my boobs, and all things milk-related.  This was a disappointment.  Several friends' husbands had gushed fondly in reminiscence of their wives' baby boobs...not mine.  This made the whole breastfeeding and pumping thing lonely and isolating, because I felt I had to do it in private.  I got over that soon enough, though, and just ignored the grossed out looks - because it was just too much work to go elsewhere or try to cover myself while both hands were occupied holding suction cups on my boobs!  I didn't like looking down while pumping, either - those cups really shouldn't be transparent :s  They distort your nipples into unrecognizable objects.  Super gross.  But I can tell you with confidence: they DO go back to normal(ish).  Eventually.  I've complained about how time consuming pumping is, so just imagine how devastating it was to once night leave the freezer door ajar, ruining a month's worth of frozen breast milk!  Gah, I don't even want to think about it...tragic, just tragic...  Before I move on from this particular topic, I need to add two things: 1. I rented a hospital grade breast pump from a drug store, and would recommend that to anyone - it just gets the job done faster - and believe me, faster will become very important to you!  2. Sorry again, Krista, for that particularly scarring incident involving me as a cow and you as an unassuming, accidental witness :s

You know what else sucked?  Breastfeeding!  Now hear me out, breastfeeding enthusiasts...wait for it...  Breastfeeding hurt.  The first few days, when my milk was coming in, were excruciating.  There were times when I literally had to count to 10 until the pain dulled so as not to hurl my child across the room.  Even once we got good at it and my supply was well-established, breastfeeding still hurt.  It never got comfortable for me.  My son was a vigorous, frequent nurser.  Before he got teeth, his gums were all hard and he would BITE down hard enough to actually make me scream in pain.  But I had committed to doing it for 3 months.  and then 3 months came, and something weird happened: I was reluctant to quit!  I still didn't like it.  And I coudlnt' pinpoint where the reluctance stemmed from.  But I stuck with it.  I started reducing the number of feedings I offered per day (replacing them with a bottle of formula) at 4 months, and completely quit by 5 months - primarily due to the emergence of little fangs.  Breastfeeding was a huge commitment, and I was somewhat jealous of my bottle-feeding friends, whose husbands were able to partake in the feedings, allowing the mommies to get a little more sleep (somewhat = insanely).  BUT...there were also many pluses.  Breastfeeding was easy and convenient.  I didn't have to prepare and wash bottles, worry about the temperature said bottles would be stored at, risk running out of bottles while on an outing, etcetera.  In fact, I once managed to lock myself and my baby out of the house while my then-husband was out, too, and was deeply relieved to realize that, while a change of diaper would be nice, I actually had everything we NEEDED - my boobs!

I am pretty sure that a breastfeeding advocate follower will comment with the innumerable benefits of breastfeeding for both mother and baby - and I believe in all of those reasons, too, and actually did do my reading and research on the topic, making an informed and educated decision to breastfeed.  I both invite and welcome such comments - as well as those from those parents who chose formula over breastmilk, because, if there is one thing I've learned about parenting, it's that a mommi has to figure out what works for her and her baby, and do it - right to choose, and all that.  But in my opinion, the most convincing piece of evidence to support breastfeeding, which is the reason I will do it again, should the occasion arise (I mean if I have another baby, you freaks!), is simply this: my son is healthy.  In fact, he's the healthiest baby I know.  By the time he got his first cold, my friends babies of similar age had been sick 6+ times.  He's only required medication once, for his one and only ear infection.  He's never had a stomach bug or digestive trouble.  He's big, and smart, and healthy, and beautiful - and I attribute much of that to my choice to breastfeed him (despite the fact that I will now require another boob job to revive The Girls - once I am totally done having children, of course).

So...tell me about YOUR boobs, and what you chose/will choose to do with them ;)  And tell any followers all the reasons I've left out that you should breastfeed.  OR tell them why you chose not to!  Let's talk about boobs...

The Dreaded Third Night

I've gotten ahead of myself now, with all this sex talk, and I've skipped over a really important event - the dreaded third night.

As I've said before, I had a pretty easy labour, my baby was big and healthy...and I wanted to go home!  So, against the advice of one of the nurses at the hospital (we hadn't perfected the "latch" for breastfeeding just yet, but were doing fine, nonetheless), I left for home with my newborn the very next day after giving birth.

BIG MISTAKE.

My sleepy little angel morphed into something sent from the Devil on that third night, and I was at home, without medical support.  He cried.  He didn't sleep.  I didn't sleep.

He had tricked me during those first two days by waking every couple hours to eat, then drifting back to sleep, done!  No more.  I had read books on babies, baby feeding, baby scheduling...and was under the impression that he shouldn't need to eat more frequently than every 3 hours.  I fed him more often than that anyway, but was certain there had to be something else the matter.  I changed his diaper, I took his temperature, I rocked him, bounced him, sang to him, swaddled him, pleaded with him, prayed...and nothing worked!  I have to give his dad credit at that point, because he DID try to help me.  He tried all of the above, too, but with equally poor results.

I called the maternity ward at the hospital for help - they told me it was normal and fine.  I called Telehealth Ontario (GREAT service, by the way) - they asked me about his temperature and how many wet diapers, etcetera, but ultimately told me it was normal and fine.

In desperation (tears, sobbing, the works), I shoved a boob in his mouth...and he was quiet.  And not because I was suffocating him, either!  He really was that hungry!  To hell with those books - my baby wanted to eat - my baby wanted to eat plenty and often.  I swear he'd nurse every 20 minutes.  And it was the ONLY thing that soothed him.

Now, apparently this third night drama is common and expected.  A few days later, I started reading some of literature my midwives had given me in a little bag, and whaddyaknow? - there was a handout specifically on the third night.  I'm not going to get all scientific on you, but I guess it's something to do with an increase in infant alertness and sensitivity, as well as the first of many growth spurts, where the baby really does need to nurse that often, in order to amp up his mother's milk supply.  (Aside: I learned to identify growth spurts based on the soreness of mu nipples - and my kid was absolutely regular, and would hit them dead-on, every time: if he was due for one around 3 months, he'd start ON his 3-month birthday, etcetera) - man, I hated growth spurts!  My boobs hated growth spurts.)

I know I'm not effectively conveying the horror of that night...you'll see, when you get there, I guess...  My baby was always dead-on with these milestones, but that is likely because he has born a few days past his due date.  If yours was early, she probably won't be as exact - but after a few have passed, I bet you'll be able to track them, adjusting slightly in one direction or another based on development and age past 40 weeks.

The third night was monumental, though, because it really defined the sleep deprivation that would become the story of my life for the next four months.

Anyone else experience the dreaded third night?  Were you prepared?  Did you cry, too?

Hotdogs and Hallways: Post-Baby Sex

If you are a) my mom, b) my brother, c) my boyfriend, or d) prudish...you may want to skip this post.  However, if you've made it this far into my blog, you're probably prepared for what lies within ;)

There is a lot of pressure to have sex after you have a baby.  I guess just because it has been a while...and because there's no longer another person in between you and your partner for the first time in a while!  But it's a scary endeavour, for reasons discussed in my previous post, so have yourself a glass (bottle) of wine, take some deep breaths, and don't forget to warm up! ;)

Seriously though: WARM UP.  I felt a lot more confident going in because I had "tested" the area myself beforehand, and was less convinced it would hurt when the big event arrived.

And it didn't hurt - too much.  It was different.  Definitely more perfunctory than pleasurable; more of an accomplishment than a luxury.  Some mommi-friends of mine had warned me that post-natal vaginas tend to be...lacking in lubrication.  One friend used the words "as dry as the Sahara".  But I didn't find this to be the case, personally.  If you do, use lube (I recommend Sliquid, because it does not contain glycerin - a big yeast-brewer :s)!  Don't expect miracles this time around.  Consider it a qualifying event, where you just have to finish the race to make it to the next round - which will (hopefully) be better.

After successfully completing the event, I had the following observations:
-I wasn't bleeding
-I hadn't done any visible damage
-it didn't hurt very much
-it wasn't good, but wasn't terrible either
-he must have found it satisfactory because...well...you know

But, dedicated researcher that I am, I required more evidence, so I had to ask...

Little background information here: My then-husband had a very-Irish client who used to make derogatory comments about his wife all the time, which my husband would regale me with when he got home.  One day, he came home with a story about how his client had said having sex with his wife was a lot like "throwing a hotdog down a hallway" :s  Lovely gentleman...

So, I both nervously (I was pretty sure all was as it once was, but not fully, or I wouldn't have been asking) and jokingly asked, "So...was it like throwing a hotdog down a hallway? (teehee)" ...and he said, "No, it wasn't that bad."

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

To my male readers (and I have recently learned I have a couple!), this is NOT something you should ever say to a lady in your life - though, if you are sensitive and secure enough to be reading this blog, you are likely not the type of guys I need to tell that.  But seriously - SERIOUSLY??  For real??  Ugh.

Truth be told, your lady parts will never be "the same" again (point to be continued in a future post) - but they will still be good!  AND, since re-entering the dating world, post-marriage, post-baby, I have gotten a second opinion - and he never says "it wasn't that bad" ;)

Let's end on that note!  Unless anyone cares to share a tale of horror of their own...?