Booby Trap

Posted by Anonymous.

My daughter is 11 years old. When she was born, she refused to nurse, would not, could not latch on. The nurses at the hospital threw up their hands, the first lactation consultant told me "it must feel terrible to have your own baby rejecting you", the second lactation consultant showed up forty eight minutes late, after telling me not to pump until she got there and not to feed my baby so that I was engorged and my daughter was starving and it was not a good day. I cried a lot back then. I cried and I told my husband that I wasn't worth of being a mother. Because I had never heard of a woman being unable to breastfeed her own child. That was unnatural. That was fucked up. It destroyed me for weeks. I pumped and I fingerfed my daughter through tubings but I was hollow. I'd never know such pain, at a time when I was supposed to be so happy. I made bargains with God. "Let me nurse," I pleaded. "Let me nurse and I'll cop to breast cancer in a decade." I meant the treatable, curable kind of cancer, of course, but really, I was out of my mind. It hurt so much. So much.

A parade of lactation consultants went through my house.

"Your nipples are inverted," one told me. "You should have been wearing nipple re-inverting shields throughout your pregnancy," she admonished.

"You definitely have enough milk. A nursing mother has enough milk to feed the Red Army." I didn't want to feed the Red Army. I wanted to feed my daughter.

I'm sure that I had a healthy dose of postpartum depression thrown in as well, but whenever I think back to that time, I catch my breath. Because it's been over 11 years. And the memory is still sharp.