The birthing/ breastfeeding
fantasy: I will go into labor on my due date. I will be totally prepared with
nursery finished. Baby clothes washed and smelling magical. I will be ready and
know what to expect because I took a birthing class and they totally covered
everything. Labor will be painful but nothing I can’t handle. I mean women have
been having babies since the beginning of time and most don’t stop at one. The
birth of my baby will be beautiful and wonderful. Nursing will come naturally.
Motherhood will be blissful. I will bounce right back to my pre pregnancy body.
Reality: My water broke at
home around 5am. I was ill prepared because the baby wasn’t near his due date
yet AND I’m so not a morning person. We fled the house like it was on fire and
drove to the hospital in a panic. Which was uncalled for because I would be in
a labor for more than a full day. To say labor was painful is not only an
understatement it is a lie. Labor is BRUTAL. Labor is torture and they should
drug you the minute you walk in the door. That birthing class was bullshit and
that woman that taught it should be brought up on charges for all of the
misguided information she is doling out to poor unsuspecting women. Bringing a
new life into the world is beautiful. Amazing. A miracle. You should also be
warned that beautiful amazing miracle is covered is all kinds of nastiness.
Natural child birth should be an oxymoron. There is nothing natural about pushing
a human out of your vagina. Oh and breastfeeding ha… it’s awkward and painful.
Motherhood is stressful and will make you question your sanity. The
blissfulness doesn’t kick in until the baby is a few weeks old and you start to
feel like you might not be bad at this after all. My pre pregnancy body. It is
there. Somewhere. Although it closely resembles its original shape I don’t
remember looking like I was clawed by a wild animal beforehand. That’s right I
didn’t. Thank you stretch marks for the added bonus of self-consciousness.
I was so determined to
breastfeed but it just wasn’t working. Before I had a baby I honestly thought
babies know what to do…kind of like kittens they just naturally know how to get
the milk out. Human babies not so much. So after days of excruciating pain and
lots of tears I decided to meet with a lactation consultant at the hospital. My
husband came with me. Big mistake. I hear over and over in the breastfeeding
community how boobs are for nursing not sexual pleasure. I agree. However I
don’t think any men got that memo. The sight of breasts reduce my husband to
behaving like a child waiting for a piece of birthday cake.
The lactation consultant was
a petite, attractive woman. She asked me to show her how I was feeding the baby
first so she could see what the problem was and then she would advise me on how
to fix it. At any other time in my life this would have made me extremely
uncomfortable and uneasy. I had lost all dignity during the delivery days
before though so this was cake. I lift my shirt and out of the corner of my eye
I see my husband with the goofiest smirk on his face. I rolled my eyes at him
to convey I could see his inner child coming out and he needed to check
himself. I show the consultant how I have been feeding Aidan. She moves closer
and says do u mind if I touch you breast. I still have no idea what came over
my husband in that moment as he blurted out “no I don’t mind at all. Should I
dim the lights and get some wine for the two of you?” The one thing me and my
husband almost always have in common is our odd sense of humor. Not on this
day. The lactation consultant shot him the glare of a mother telling her child
“your gonna get it when we get home”. I was mortified and I don’t embarrass
easily but I wanted to disappear. She didn’t say anything just went on with
what she was doing. My only consolation in this whole situation was that she
seemed so genuinely unphased by his highly inappropriate sexual innuendo that
he must not be the first husband to act like a horny teenage boy in her
presence.
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