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I know you can’t wait to read this one: more nipples, more blisters and even more associated joys
By ella | January 25, 2005
Following my recent post about nipple blisters, I was e-mailed by a similarly-suffering mother asking me what I did to get rid of it. Well at the risk of alienating every reader who is not a mother (do I have any other type of reader? I hope so, although I imagine I talk way too much about motherhood to have many others) I thought I would share some more with you. Right now I know you’re saying, YIPPEE, and I just know there won’t be an element of sarcasm in it, will there?
Anyway, getting rid of it: you’re joking aren’t you? I had the bastard blister for so long that I nicknamed it Fuck Off You Little Bastard Blister. Actually I had the blister for about eight months. Eight months! With recurring mastitis. I really did not want to keep taking antiobiotics because nobody really knows what effect medications have through breastmilk, do they and my kids are going to grow up screwed up enough without stacking the odds against them by drugging them up as babies more than I already do (and we have three medicine cabinets in this house. Three. Only one of which is devoted to my anti-depression medication. Oh and my family planning “arrangements”, ‘cos I know you can’t have one without the other. If you can’t have a baby, you’re going to be depressed right? Have I got that the right way round? Will my brain ever be the same after the medication?)
I’m really digressing now. Anyway, I took matters into my own hands. I sterilised a needle and popped the little bastard. Then it would grow back and I would pop the little bastard again. Ad infinitum. I know, I know - it’s disgusting, I’m going to infect my nipple (hello? it’s already infected, remember?), I’m going to give myself hallucinations in the brain, my husband will never look at my boobs again etc. But what else was I going to do? And before you ask, I did try everything else first. After each feed (or every other feed if I was lucky) the blister grew back, the duct got blocked and the pain returned. Oh how I loved those days! When we went on holiday with a four month old, the only thing I really needed I forgot (and I swear I could have managed without the steriliser, weaning food, nappies, everything). Yup, the bloody needle.
And I tell you: you realise that your concept of motherhood when you were pregnant was SO FAR OFF BASE when you are sitting there stabbing yourself in the nipple with a needle.
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Read More:
- Nipples, blisters and other associated joys
- And God said, “Let there be crying”; and there was crying
- Ten things that motherhood gives you
- Failure to thrive
- Home educating
Categories: Parenting
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