I’m about to get into an all out boob discussion here, and it really won’t be the last time I do this, so if the topic of tits makes you uncomfortable, I would just recommend avoiding the entire category On the Topic of Tits: Titillating Tales of a Breastfeeding Mama. There, you’ve been warned.
So back to CIO and boobs.
There is nothing worse in the world of a breastfeeding mama than niplash. Well, maybe mastitis, clogged ducts, thrush, undersupply, oversupply, engorgement, inverted or flat nips, being judged for public breastfeeding, being judged for supplementing, trying to keep a wiggly baby from pulling off a nursing cover to reveal your boobs to onlooking bystanders, vasoconstriction, tongue-tie, biting, or cracked/raw nips due to a bad latch.
So maybe I should amend my initial statement. There are SEVERAL things that are worse than niplash, but dangit, niplash sucks!
For those of you not familiar with the term niplash, it basically is a word to describe every time your nursing child likes to suddenly pop off the boob so fast it hurts. This could be due to boredom, the baby being suddenly startled, undersupply and over-demand, or pretty much anything that can misdirect your child’s attention away from the perfect latch that took you 45 minutes to accomplish. I have been nursing for nine months with Baby Bear, and I still CIO every time she does it. Which of course makes her giggle. Not the reaction that I want.
I thought that the daily episodes of niplash were my worst nightmare, until Baby Bear started teething. Oh , hell no. Teething Baby Bear makes niplash Baby Bear look like rainbows and puppy kisses. In order to be proactive before those little razors started to pop out, I sought out as many articles that I could find that talked about what to do in case the baby bites me while nursing. I think that was the exact phrase I ended up typing into the Google search bar, in fact. That or “how to avoid biting during breastfeeding”. Either way, everything that I kept reading mentioned ways to just stop the nursing session and say “no” firmly , and that should just do the trick. Nineteen “holy mother fluffing mulberry trees” later, I began to suspect that all of those articles were a bunch of crock.
I’m now convinced that I have some kind of nursing PTSD, because I swear, as soon as I hear her cry, both my boobs and my tear ducts simultaneously let down. What once was such a sweet, bonding embrace has now turned into me flinching every time she latches on, or even opens her mouth towards me. I swear she has turned into part vampire or something. The worst part is, every time that she does it, she smiles maniacally. Well, maybe not maniacally, but it sure seems like it when she stares up at me with those beady little eyes and that wicked grin as I’m trying to nurture my bleeding nips. “Get back, demon baby! Don’t bite Mama! No!” And she just grins and grins as if to just soak up that title.
No matter how many times I say no and stop the nursing session, she still does it. Overall, that advice just makes me cry and hold my girls close and look at my daughter with deep suspicion that she isn’t enjoying this whole thing, truly. Giving me that cherub smile, with the sparkly eyes. It’s her cuteness that’s the bait, I just know it. She draws you in, just close enough for you to coo at her, and then CHOMP!!! You’ve got yourself a bad case of bloody tatas. I’ve even seen her do this to Papa Bear’s nose, except that when she does it to him, I find it way more hilarious. Either way, crying it out will have to be my coping mechanism until solid foods can take up the majority of her diet instead of the blood of her unsuspecting mother. Oh, strained peas, you’ve never looked so good.
So you can find Part 1 here, if you’re interested in reading more about my adventures with CIO