A Tale of Two Titties

The fairytale goes something like : once upon a time, a womyn gave birth to a baby, and she decided she would breastfeed on demand. They lived happily ever after. The end.

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Breastfeeding has been one of the most beautiful and precious gifts I have shared with both my children. It’s magical really. In my breasts, there’s a substance that grows and comforts babies, alleviates itchy eczema patches, fixes a stuffy nose and could neutralise some snake venom if need be. It’s a beautiful thing. The bonding aspect of it is seriously like ten thousand 100 emoji, plus it helps with post-partum weight loss. Sound too good to be true? It is. Kind of. The breastfeeding journey also has some Lesilo-esque elements woven into it. Pure horror. Adonbilivit.

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As I type this, I am recovering from a blocked milk duct. Yesterday I was weeping from the pain. Listen, no amount of labour and birth pain elicited a tear from me, just so you get a sense of how excruciatingly painful a blocked milk duct is.

I’d clean forgotten the nightmare of first milk, so this blocked duct felt like a terrible something I’d never seen. Mam’ Nature hits me with that Stefano Dimera memory erasing trick as I pass each long ting and milestone.

Here’s what I had forgotten about the crappy aspects of breastfeeding:

1. Stink and lumps.

When my milk came in, 2 days or so after giving birth, there was also an odour that was just snaaks. May you never know this problem. Amen.
I also got massive lumps, on top of super hectic, inner circle of hell engorememt, which could only be alleviated by cold cabbage leaves.

I’ve spent a great deal of time under a hot shower, weeping, massaging lumps out of my bresseses, praying that my kids never ever try me, after everything I’ve been through.

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2. Wet up here. Dry down there.

It took my milk supply about 2 weeks to stabilise. Two weeks of random squirts, wet patches on my tops and waking up in puddles of my own milk. And while my breasts were wilin, they were taking away much needed moisture elsewhere…

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3. Hunger games.

Tjerrr. I can’t even explain the hunger and thirst that comes with breastfeeding. The great thing of course, is that breastfeeding also helped with my post-partum weight loss. But because I just eat whatever I wanted to, I gained some weight back. Whatever. Motherhood is hard. I’ll lose the weight one day.

4. Notorious BIG

With my first pregnancy, I went from a 34D to 38E almost overnight. When I see my old bras and I remember the times we had, I feel sad. Current bra size: if I turn around too quickly, someone in Vereeniging might just get knocked the fuck out.

5. Plus 1
Breastfeeding on demand means I can’t really go anywhere without Tiny Oga, right now. I stay at home and make everyone come to me, which was my original plan anyway. Sometimes I want to leave the house, but I’m more concerned about having to put pants on, than how to work out how to leave my child at home. Expressing is difficult with an on-demand feeder, but I’m working on it.

Breastfeeding is a huge investment into the physical and emotional wellness of my children, even though it’s not always easy or convenient for me.  So, when people invite me to join them in the streets, and I can’t, and they tell me I won’t have a life unless I bottle feed, I feel some tupperware 📷

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2 thoughts on “A Tale of Two Titties

  1. Kwanele says:

    I swear reading your blog is like iPre-firstTime-mother gym yami. Errytime im just like “yaaass amaguns nama guns 💪💪gained, l’m sooo prepared for you infant” [mind you ngina24 and ingane into elight years away in the way my life-plan is setup 💭]
    Anyway I’m soooo glad you have this blog where you juuust let out wonke lama truths that [ I feel] most won’t want to share ngoba abafuni ukuba judged for “not getting it right “.

    XOXOXO iFan yakho [yebo ngyi fan ngoba you’re juuust that awesome yazi]

    Like

  2. styleandstylability says:

    tjo Gogo after reading this post I’m just scared. Nobdy tells these truth like you do. I’m not getting past the pain you described here. it’s no play thing, thank Guard for mama nature’s erasure, soon you will forget and one day maybe even me I will forget long enough to stop evading pregnancy.

    Like

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