Boob Camp

Before our little bean was born, we wanted to arm ourselves with as much information as possible to avoid any major parenting fuck-ups. We bought books, asked other parents we know lots of questions (thanks, sis! You know you have always been my primary resource!), and even signed up for all the Expecting Parents classes offered at the hospital. Those classes were very helpful in easing some of the fears/concerns we had about childbirth and the days that follow. But the one class that I was really anxious to take, both because I was totally clueless on the subject and because I was too embarrassed to ask other women about, was the Breastfeeding class.  Boob Camp, as I refer to it.

Boob Camp is a 3 hour crash course in all things booby. Gentlemen (if there are any of you reading this blog), it's not as cool as you might think. And yes, I did make my husband come with me. We had to sign up in advance to ensure a spot in the class. I imagine tickets to that concert get sold out pretty quickly! Looking at the class schedule online we saw that, wouldn't you know, the only class that we were able to attend fell on my birthday! Yup, that's what I always dreamed of doing on my 31st birthday, watching a movie featuring other women's boobs (lots of them!) with my husband. It was at that moment that I realized life as we knew it would never be the same.

Aside from the creepy animated baby on screen demonstrating the correct and incorrect way to latch, the class wasn't so bad. And there were actually quite a few men there with their wives (I'm still not sure if I should be surprised by that). Anyway, I learned a lot about my boobs that day. It turns out, they are even more powerful than I thought! I walked away feeling like yeah, I got this! 

Then the baby was born and everything I learned in those classes managed to crawl into a crevasse so deep in my brain it was impossible to retrieve.  I knew nothing all over again. I had to call in the big guns for reinforcement. I had to call the Lactation Specialist at the hospital, or as I like to refer to her the Boob Camp Counselor.

The doctors told us baby girl was losing a little more weight than normal in the first 24 hours and that it might be due to improper latching. Talk about a blow to my new-mom ego! I felt like I got a big red F on my New Mom exam and it hasn't even been a full 24 hours! I was determined to do whatever it took the fix the problem... So in walks the Camp Counselor. She didn't hesitate one bit. We barely introduced ourselves before she had her hands on my boobs! Once again, gentlemen, it's not what you think. There was nothing pretty, or even remotely sexy about what happened there.

I'm glad she was there to help, but looking back, I still can't believe I let her, a total stranger, get all up in my business like that! It just goes to show the lengths women will go to to take care of their babies.

It turned out that it was nothing that me or my baby was doing wrong. Her frenulum (the tiny piece of skin that attaches the tongue to the bottom of your mouth) was a bit too long and was making it difficult for her to fully stick out her tongue and get a good latch. We opted to have the doctor cut it (a very quick and painless procedure) and almost immediately after, we saw a huge improvement with her feeding.

In all seriousness though, Breastfeeding is truly an amazing thing. Even now, at 3:57 am, I can honestly say that I enjoy those moments with my daughter. I'm not just feeding her, I'm bonding with her in a way that no one else on this planet can. There is nothing more peaceful than to look down and see your little one gazing back at you or gently falling asleep in your arms... except those times when she flails her little arms uncontrollably and grabs a handful of nipple. That fucking hurts!