The Thing About the Cabbage

So, the cabbage in my bra - Donnie K., you might wanna skip this one.

I have a new found respect for women who successfully breast feed. I tried everything to get Eilish to latch on in the hospital including having about 5 nurses and a lactation specialist (how the hell do you get that title anyway?) fondle my fun pillows in an attempt to get the prettiest girl to latch on. Eilish just wasn't having it. They sent me home with an industrial breast pump and I proceeded to pump my breasts every 3 hours and bottle feed Eilish my good stuff. I continued to try to get her to latch on at home but as soon as she started crying my nipples did what can best be compared to a groundhog in a hole and spring wasn't coming if you know what I mean...hell, I don't even know what I mean but the point is Eilish wasn't latching.

The pumping/bottle feeding thing was going OK until Tuesday where my left breast pretty much gave up. No milk. Nada. No matter how often I pumped I just couldn't get anything. By Wednesday morning I was pumping 20 ml. at a time from the right breast and feeding it to my starving 9 pound 2 ounce baby. My supply just couldn't keep up with Eilish's demand. And then there was the crying.

My crying.

Daily.

To the point where Owen wasn't sure if he should go to work on Wednesday night.

I felt like I was doing Eilish a disservice. First I couldn't get her to latch on and now I couldn't even pump enough to keep her satisfied. Luckily we had a doctor's appointment with Eilish's pediatrician on Wednesday morning and after some more of my crying Dr. Starr, the antithesis of Dr. Pervy, assured me that formula fed babies thrive and recommended a formula for me to give her. We're 24 hours into the formula meals and things are going OK - Eilish is still getting used to it and is needing to burp more often which she is treating like the biggest injustice in her young life but she's eating and peeing and pooping so it's all good.

So, the cabbage in my bra.

When your mind decides to stop breast feeding or in our case bottle breast feeding your boobs take a little longer to get the message. So my boobs are fully engorged and because I'm not pumping the milk out it frigging hurts - like someone is stabbing me repeatedly in the chest. Judes recommended binding my boobs like Nan Kennedy did for her all those years ago, which I did yesterday and I've read that cold compresses work which I tried today but the number one relief I've gotten has come from cabbage. Good, old fashioned make me some oo-ka-lacki (how do you spell that?!) cabbage. You put cabbage in your bra and not only does it draw out the milk it also makes your milk dry up faster. The downside, which you can probably guess is the smell. Your boobs are little pressure cookers and when I first got a whiff I wondered who the hell had farted. Alas, the smell was my knockers.

And that is the thing about the cabbage.