Anyone who has breastfed knows there’s a boatload of fluids involved: breast milk, drool, vomit, and definitely tears. Lots and lots of tears. When I was breastfeeding, I suspect that some days I shed an equal amount of tears to my infant son (or more). So, I doubt the following statement surprises anyone who’s ever breastfed, or known and loved a breastfeeding mom: there are totally normal things all breastfeeding moms cry over. It’s pretty much a given, kind of like science or the undeniable fact that Jeff Goldblum is the sexist man alive.
I remember breastfeeding feeling like a great, monumental milestone after I reached a point in my postpartum life when I wasn’t crying everyday. Actually, now that I think about it, maybe I’ll include some bulk tissue if I ever set-up another baby registry. People will be like, “Oh, look at her, she’s really concerned about the cleanliness of baby’s nose,” when, in reality, I just don’t want to tears to run off my face, onto my baby’s soft, otherwise dry pajamas after we’ve struggled with latch for twenty minutes straight. Or, even worse, onto the baby’s face, distracting them from the first successful position we’ve managed to find ourselves in all day.
In other words, breastfeeding (especially when you're postpartum and dealing with a slew of other exhausting issues) It’s a sensitive time, OK? Here’s a few more examples about what can cause the tears to fall:
Nursing pillows, and our reliance on them, are reason enough to shed a few happy tears (and sometimes frustrated tears, but whatever). Bed pillows, and the fact that I was leaking milk all over them every night, are reason enough to shed some sad tears (and sometimes hilarious tears, because who cries over spilt milk?). Couch pillows, and the fact that they’re not breastfeeding pillows or couch pillows when I need them to be, is reason enough to cry all the tears you have.
The possibilities are endless.
I once had a significant breakdown in my kitchen, which resulted in full-on weeping, over the fact that I was preparing my son a bottle of pumped milk instead of offering him my breast. I mean, it seemed to make sense at the time.
Thankfully, the sound logic and reasoning of the lone witness to the event, (my mom) gently pointed out that my son was getting what he needed, so why was I upset?
Their Social Media Feeds
Guys, I can’t. That’s where I can be reminded of my elementary school friends (and the innocent summer fun we used to have), crushes I’m still embarrassed about, the beautiful families of the women in my mom’s group, and the existence of puppies in general. I was especially susceptible to extra feels if I took a peek at my Facebook feed in the wee hours, when I was up for night feedings.
The Top Of Their Baby’s Head
It’s just so perfect and beautiful, and it smells so amazing. In fact, if you close your eyes and bury your noise in their soft hair fluff, all your problems go away and the world is wonderful. Who wouldn’t cry?
Movies Not Actually Intended To Make You Cry
Hi, name is Dena and I cried at Pitch Perfect 2 when my son was a year old. In the theater. In front of other people.
Even The Most Minor Of Struggles, Including Those Involving Onesie Snaps
Of course, getting the correct foot into the designated pajama leg is a potential struggle that can evoke a significant amount of waterworks. I don’t need this right now, pajama manufacturers. I really don’t.
Any Successes At All, Whatsoever
The feeling of triumph that washes over a breastfeeding mom when she manages to lay a sleeping baby back into a crib without waking said baby? I imagine it’s on par to what it feels like to summit a mountain, or save a life, or correctly predict the winner of The Bachelor. I mean, of course there are tears.
“Don’t cry over spilled milk” is a ridiculous request to ask of any breastfeeding woman, and I move we erase it from the English language.
Bras With Underwire
They’re so restricting. They’re so harsh. I feel like I’m in a cage. Will I ever feel normal enough to wear one again? Will I ever feel normal again, in general? Who am I, what is life? Is someone peeling onions?
Bras Without Underwire
Seriously, who’s peeling onions? The last time undergarments made me cry this hard was when I was eleven and I had to succumb to locker room pressures and bring home my first training bras.
Thoughts of Their Baby’s Future
Especially if that future is mentioned in a delightfully illustrated children’s book that you happen to be flipping through at your local big box store *cough*
Sweet, fluffy things are kryptonite to a breastfeeding mom. In fact, should you ever find yourself attacked by one, I recommend protecting yourself with a “Puppy Of The Month” calendar. Better yet and if you're a true emotional terrorist? Live rabbits with floppy ears. By the time the breastfeeding mom realizes what happens, you’ll be miles away.