Murder on my mind, mastitis

THREE nights ago a few strokes before midnight I felt so damn hot that I took my sweaty body to sit outside in the backyard for a few minutes. Only when my fiancée urged me to come back inside did I notice the rain falling. Hot, sweaty, exhausted and covered in rain, was I going crazy? 

Perhaps or was this normal with the onset of mastitis, a nasty inflammation of the breast that can infect the entire body, which coupled with already infected breasts made this a difficult and confusing time.

It’s no coincidence that yesterday I fronted the counter at the local pharmacy and asked for two things: more Daktarin oral cream to treat the painful infection and advice about the best baby formula on the market.

  

‘How old is your baby?’ the pharmacist quizzed.

‘One month,’ I replied. Here we go, I thought. This is the part where you tell me the cream shouldn’t be used on the inside of babies’ mouths if they're under six months.

‘Do you realise you shouldn’t use this cream in your baby’s mouth if your baby is less than six months old,’ she looked at me accusingly.

Too tired to argue, I simply told her both my maternal and child health nurse and GP said it was okay and told me to use it for one week or the infection would not clear.

‘Your midwife, right I see,’ she said, disapprovingly.

‘And my doctor,’ I added, again.

‘Well, if you don’t rub it in properly, your baby can choke and choking can lead to death,’ she said, firmly.

Murder on my mind, mastitis, my chest burning more than the beds on raging fire in Midnight Oil’s song lyrics, I imagined possessing a stare so powerful it could freeze the pharmacist’s tongue momentarily or just before she could say anything stupid again.  

I had already received strict instructions on how to use this cream from my midwife, my doctor, my mum, best friend, her aunty, a cousin of a friend of a friend, the postman, a neighbour, the pine tree in the front garden … I also read the instructions on the inside of the packaging just to make sure that no, my baby would not choke on this cream because I would rub it in properly.

‘How much is the larger cream,’ I asked, instead.

‘And the formula, you’ve decided to get it because of this infection,’ she quipped.

Somebody kill me now, if only for just this moment. Wait for it. Here it comes. How will she phrase it.  

‘Do you realise breastmilk is the best thing for a baby,’ she asked without adding a question mark on the end of the sentence, one I’m sure she uses several times a day on vulnerable customers, popularly first time mums experiencing serious problems with breastfeeding, as if they weren't feeling bad enough already.

‘I’m fully aware of the benefits, thank you,’ I replied. Then I explained my situation and that I would be replacing a feed at night to give my blistering breasts a break from the pain, the excruciating pain of breastfeeding with an infection.

Writing about it now, I’m annoyed for being made to feel I had to explain myself, even if it was from self-pressure, which no doubt comes from societal pressure to breastfeed.

I didn’t have to explain the reason for my choices to the pharmacist, a stranger to me who has never even seen my baby. You know what, I no longer care about what people think or the rights and wrongs of breastfeeding.  

Everyone will add their two cents worth even when not asked for advice. Once you have a baby, somehow even random strangers feel it’s their duly right to give you unsolicited advice. Let them and let it wash over you. Even smile politely. Or mute them in your head or all of the above.

To me, I care and will always care most about what is best for my beautiful baby girl. If at the moment, the best thing is feeding her with the best formula money can buy, as well as breastmilk to help us both get through a tough time, then that’s what I’ll do. My fiancée is very supportive, too.

Last night, we gave baby Lilia expressed breastmilk followed by formula in a separate bottle, to ease her into the taste. She gulped it down, happily. It was wonderful to be able to look in her eyes when feeding her from a bottle and not having any pain or worries about breastfeeding — a genuine bonding moment we both enjoyed very much.

I didn’t feel guilty. I felt happy, relieved and finally, ready for bed. As I glanced over at my daughter as she dosed off to sleep, I was confident in myself that I had made the right choice for me and my beautiful sleeping baby.

We shouldn’t pass judgement on any woman who for whatever reason chooses to feed her baby with formula (and I recently read about a woman choosing to do so simply because she viewed her breasts as sexual objects and the thought of using them as providing food for her baby made her feel ill and unhappy, so she chose formula instead, it’s her choice). Every woman, just like every baby, is different. What works for one mum and baby may not work for another.

When it comes to breastfeeding or how you choose to provide for your baby, remember always that it’s your baby, your body and your breasts and breastfeeding is your own business.