Hey, I haven't talked about my boobs in, like, forever, man. Obviously it's time for an update.
Seriously, though, HOW DID WE FREAKING SURVIVE AS A SPECIES???
Have you ever heard of a "nursing strike"? It's where your child up and decides, You know what, ma? You can keep your stinkin' boobs to yourself, I ain't eatin' no how!
And then screams and screams and screams every time you offer the breast, sucks on every other object in a 5 mile radius, crying and begging for food - but will not suck on the one thing that will solve the dilemma. Meanwhile, engorgement happens and you end up with two huge, painful, hot (as in the temperature, although I imagine it looks pretty awesome to the loutish members of the opposite sex, damn their un-mammory-glandness), and worst of all, LEAKING, rocks on your chest.
Here's something I didn't know - milk will actually shoot out in random directions. You look into your nursing bra to check if you need to change the pad again and get shot in the face. Hello friendly fire!
Look, boob, I'm trying to keep you from getting a plugged milk duct or mastitis - which until now was something I'd only read about in All Creatures Great and Small, thanks a lot James Herriot for that, by the way - and there is no need to shoot me in the EYE!
This is how you prevent mastitis in a cow. Now you know.
I think the worst thing about a nursing strike is how unhappy bunny she is about it. Tears of rage and all that screaming and stiff body... what I call the "crucified baby" pose... it's just awful.
I went to the web to see if there was any advice - thank god for the web, by the way, it let me know that it wasn't me or my child, sometimes babies just get into a fuss like this and it's no one's fault and it's not going to kill anyone (it just feels that way) - and the advice was "try again when she's calm."
Wait... CALM?!? This child will never be calm again! This child is going to starve to death before she's calm! Number one way to calm a baby is to feed her and I can't even bloody do that! What do I DO? *panic panic panic* (Normally I'm all Cool Hand Luke about motherhood, but a nursing strike breaks my heart.)
What we have here is a failure to communicate.*
Advice: try to calm your baby by giving her a relaxing bath.
Ha. Ha ha ha. Ha ha ha *sob* ha ha ha. The only thing my child hates more on this planet than... wait, there is NOTHING on god's green earth she hates more than a bath.
Advice: try to calm your baby by going for a drive.
Oh, wait, yes, there is the strapping her into the car seat. She might hate that more than a bath.
Archaeogoddess's Advice for the Terminally Fussy Baby: Sometimes a baby is just going to "fuss" (read: scream bloody murder). But sooner or later she'll pass out from exhaustion.
I *hate* the "cry it out" technique. But it's all I can do. I hold her close and soothe her best I can and as soon as she begins to drop off to sleep, I get her in position and do a sneak boob attack. A flanking maneuver, if you will.
It works. She eats. She eats like she's never had a problem at all. In fact, she'll look up at me and give me this look like "jesus, it took you long enough!" as if I hadn't been trying to feed her every 15 minutes for the last TWO HOURS.
*Y'all have NO IDEA how long it took to get that baby into that photo without access to photoshop... just sayin'.