"Sh, Sh, Sh, sweet baby, it is going to be ok." Looking at the wall clock, I notice it is 4 a.m. 2 hours of non-stop crying. What started as a little whimper has gone into a full blown distress cry. I am now officially a single mom. Emily is a week old and we are trying to learn how to breastfeed together. There is no lonelier feeling than being up in the middle of the night with a crying baby. Plus, being a first time mom, I have no clue what to do. My milk has come in and my breasts are so full, they hurt. None of the birthing process has been easy for me. Why I expected motherhood to go smoother, I don't know.
Pregnancy wrecks havoc on your body. And now my boobs look like something from a horror movie. My tits used to be my best feature. 36D's, well shaped, firm and what I have been told by several of my boyfriends, perfect nipples. When excited my nipples would extend at least ½ inch and when they were sucked on they seemed to grow another inch. It really gave the guys something to latch onto.
Now my boobs are so distended from milk, I can't get a bra on if I wanted to. I had to dig my one-piece bathing suit out of the closet just for a little support. The milking veins in my boobs are really prominent and hard. And they hurt! My nipples are huge! They don't even look like nipples, they are so stretched out you cannot even tell they were the prettiest color of pale pink. They just look like a balloon ready to pop. And there was no way Emily was going to be able to "latch" on.
"Sh, Sh, Sh, Emily you are going to get us kicked out of the condo." The condo we live in is really meant for older adults. Not for children. When I moved in, motherhood was not on the agenda. So when Emily came along, I received special permission with the association to stay. Now with her crying non-stop, I can just imagine what will be the main subject at the next association meeting. I can hardly take this desperate feeling of loneliness any longer.
It's now about 4:30 and I am getting desperate, what am I going to do? Just over Emily crying I hear a soft knock on the door. Not sure whether I really heard a knock, I just ignored it. But, then I heard another knock. I hurried up and pulled my robe on and walked to the door. Looking through the peep hole, I see it is my next door neighbor, Mr. Winters. Oh, great.
I opened the door. "Hi, Mr. Winters. I am sooo sorry about Emily's crying. I hope we didn't wake you up."
Mr. Winters is an older man in his late 60's. He is really a very handsome man. Tall, about 6'3" and lean. He plays a lot of tennis and he is in great shape. His tan keeps him looking vital and fit and it really sets off his silver hair. His wife of 48 years, Helen, just died about 5 months ago from an aneurism.
"I've been listening to little Emily crying now for 2 hours, and it brought back memories of when Helen and I brought home our babies from the hospital. We had six children, you know. Anyway, I thought maybe I could be assistance or even a little bit of moral support."
"Mr. Winters, please come in! I really do need some help. I just don't know what to do with her. I'm trying to breastfeed her and she just doesn't seem to be able to latch on, and my boobs hurt so bad, I'm in a lot of pain, and I am so tired! I really can't believe I am telling you all of this!"
"Dear, dear, don't worry about embarrassing me. Helen had this problem with all our babies the first couple of weeks, if you don't mind me helping you, I think I could lend you hand. I warn you, it might be out of your comfort zone. And you might find my methods a little odd. But, it always seemed to help Helen."
"Mr. Winters, at this point, I am willing to try anything."