Speak Up So You Can See

It was during the late fall of 2001. Serena was a newborn (a preemie, actually, since I was induced at 36 weeks), and my mom came up from New York to help us with our new baby. I had always planned to breastfeed. Aside from learning about the health benefits for me and Serena, it would also be good for us financially, since I was going to be a stay-at-home mom and we'd be living on one income. That was the plan. 

*Warning for the squeamish/prudish - I'm about to write about breasts/nipples, so if that offends your sensibilities, feel free to stop reading now* 

I read about breastfeeding while I was pregnant, and I took the breastfeeding class . . . but there is nothing that can quite prepare you for actual breastfeeding. "Naughty" alert - Babies are nowhere near as gentle as your lover with your breasts. Their suction power is off the charts. All I remember hearing about was the wonderful, positive aspects of breastfeeding, and not how much it will hurt, or what to do when things go wrong. The well-intentioned nurse who tried to help me in the hospital gave me the wrong advice, and I ended up with cracked, scabbed nipples. This was before the time of Googling "relief for cracked, scabbed nipples," finding nipple guards on Amazon, and receiving them two days later. Nope. The only relief I could imagine? Similac and/or Enfamil. I had longed for Serena for such a long time, but when it was time for her to eat, I crrrrrrrrringed!!!! I cried . . . I didn't want her anywhere near me! She was so adorable, but when it was time for her to nurse, she looked to me like a glass-tongued demon! Without saying too much, I started to fear that she was ruining me for . . . other things. No one tells you about that. 

My mom meant well. She had nursed me and received support from the La Leche League when nursing was challenging. She was trying to provide me with that same support and encouragement. I didn't want that, though. I wanted my Mommy to feel sorry for my pain and my tears, not Serena's grandmother making sure she was breastfed. As far as I could tell, my mom was a La Leche League representative who was in cahoots with that evil, sandpaper-mouthed baby! So I was feeling some type of way toward my mom, but I didn't tell her how I was feeling. In retrospect, I wish I would have had the presence of mind and confidence to say, "While I do believe that breastmilk is best for Serena, I am hurting terribly, and I want to enjoy my child, so she's going to drink formula, and it's going to be okay." But I didn't. I kept it inside. But what we try to suppress always finds its way to the surface, doesn't it?

I've never been skilled at makeup application, so as a postpartum treat, I went to the mall for a makeover, and I bought some makeup. We were heading out for our first date night after Serena's birth, and I thought I did a good job applying my new foundation. When my alarmed mom saw me, she BEGGED me to let her fix the foundation, but I was all like, "No! I'm grown! I'm married! I have my own baby! You can't tell me what to do!" Translation = suppressed feelings finding their way to the surface.

I went out like this, and I had NO IDEA that I looked so crazy! We went to a restaurant and movie (I'm sure many chuckles were had at my expense all night, and rightly so). For those of you who are tempted to blame Dishon for not saying something, resist the urge. He was sleep-deprived, and not trying to pick a fight before date night. It's okay to laugh. I crack up every time I see this!!! 😂😂😂 SO embarrassing, yet SO hilarious!!

When I'm working on my novel and crafting my character's personalities, I want to be sure to include the consequences when they don't say how they really feel.  Take a lesson from me. If you don't speak up, it may keep you from seeing yourself clearly. No need to go outside like Ghostface Killah. Just say what you need to say. 

*Side note: Breastfeeding can be weird, and we need to be more honest with new moms about this. I tried, unsuccessfully, to nurse Cairo, too. Same cracks. Same scabs. Only that time, I developed mastitis, and the milk got stuck in my feverish, engorged boobs.  What finally helped? Putting cabbage leaves in my bra. I didn't think it would work, but no joke, the milk came spewing out like I was a daggone fire hydrant. I don't fully understand it to this day, but it worked. Go figure.