Mastitis is a breastfeeding evil.

It starts innocently enough with a clogged duct and then something just happens. Something makes an ordinary clogged duct manifest into the beginnings of complete and udder despair.

Things moved fast. After spending an ENTIRE day trying every trick in the book,  I finally got both Little Man and Little Miss down to bed and BAM – the chills. You’ve never really experienced the chills, until you experience the chills. The sensation is indescribable. I’ve never felt so crippled in my twenty some years of life. The sheer thought of hunting down a bottle of aceatimenophen seemed daunting, even leaving the bed was a journey not worth taking.  And yet, the midwife said it can get worse, much worse. #unthinkable

Mastitis Beginnings

Somewhere on the internet, I read Mastitis happens when you hit a low point. A low point in that you aren’t taking care of you, and the overwhelming shadow of stress takes hold and increases your susceptibility. There probably is no science behind this connection, but rather just antidotal mother-to-mother experiences, but the suggestion itself alludes to the power of taking care of you. 

Somewhere in this fifth and sixth week of postpartum bliss, the bliss began to fade and the realities of life settled back. The crazy hours and schedules my husbands job holds, paired with toddlerhood drives a person kind of batty. I miss routines – I miss family dinner, and my husband doing the bedtime routine. I miss connections and conversations.

The reality is Mastitis is the very last thing you think you need when your deep in the trenches of motherhood. The theory suggested implied Mastitis forces the stressed out mother to slow down and rest.

Mastitis forced me to rest. We spend two entire days on the couch nursing children (to unclog the initial culprit), while watching 3 seasons of Paw Patrol (as is available on Canadian Netflix) and eating goldfish crackers. We ordered in pizza, and ate oatmeal for breakfast. That’s just the reality of life with 2 under 2 during the first three months of survival. 

Mastitis Meltdown

Mastitis resulted in a mommy meltdown, or better a Mastitis Meltdown.

This clogged duct must go! Clearing a clogged duct is no easy feat, and not easily achieved by taking a pill, or popping a pimple. It’s a complicated dance of many different manoeuvres and suggestions; all of which, will ensure you are thoroughly TOUCHED out: breastfeeding, constant-never ending breastfeeding, massaging, vibrating, applying heat, showering, bathing, pumping, hand expressing, pressure and more. {It’s all very hands on}

So now, not only do I have my toddler nursing (because Little Miss could really care less), but I’m actively trying to massage my breast (while he practices toddler gymnastics) while he nurses. When no one is nursing, warm compresses keep things cozy and warm. But not for long, because things are backing up again and repeat. I didn’t get to shower because I wanted to, but because I had to. I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night because my child did, but because I needed her to nurse. I didn’t get to choose if my toddler nursed or not, he had to. This clog HAD to go.

24 hours, then 48 hours, then 72 hours, and more, of never-ending attention and concern directed at the breast. It never stopped and never ended. If the breast wasn’t under constant scrutiny, it was being constantly manhandled in an attempt to release the clog. Left alone, the breast ached from the infection, but also from the physical abuse endured. There was no escaping.

Saturday night rolled around, and mommy had a mastitis meltdown. A giant weeping puddle on the floor, screaming at my children, ice-cream for dinner kind of melt down. The kind of meltdown that happens when two children have been sucking at your breast for 72+ hours constant. When multiple hands have tried to massage out a clogged duct. When your not sure if your breast is bruised or inflamed.

Sometimes, you just need a break; how do you catch a break when the infection needs to go. You can’t just forgot about and move on.

You could pump. I have a hand pump and I tried (the suction is broken or something). but still, something is attached, touching, and stressing you the fuck out. I don’t really consider that a viable alternative.

There was no break to be had. There still is no break to be had. My husband had to work, and despite mom having a flu, nobody could give a fuck. When a man gets a cold, the world just stops. When a woman gets a flu, the world keeps going. It didn’t matter that neither of us had slept for 24 hours – him work, me mommying – but the man’s sleep always trumps the woman needs. Cue: Mastitis Mommy Meltdown. 

You could send your children away. I seriously considered this. And then Little Man had a weird day and napped from 9am – 1pm.  I also NEEDED him. I couldn’t send my biggest tools away. I needed him to nurse and unclog the duct, drain the infection and return myself to functioning human. I needed him gone, entertained, and occupied, BUT I needed him to nurse and resolve an ever growing problem. This conundrum also resulted in a Mastitis Mommy Meltdown.

An Unfinished Post

And that is where I left it off. This is an unfinished post I found and felt the need to post and share this struggle I had during my breastfeeding journey. Please remember to always consult with a breastfeeding consultant – specifically an IBCLC for accurate breastfeeding information. This post is merely to share in the journey of breastfeeding.

 

Let me know if you’ve struggled with breastfeeding and how your story looked. Did you experience a Mastitis Meltdown?