Kristen Barber

Breastfeeding Woes

Every day I willingly subject myself to grueling torture at the mercy of an adorable bundle of nine pounds and eight ounces of joy. How can something so natural be so difficult and painful? Repeatedly, about every two hours to be exact, I engage in an excruciating tug-of-war battle with my nipple and a formidable cherubic ninja jaw warrior. After the conclusion of each skirmish, I sulk as I dress my battle wounds and fervently pray that a truce would soon commence. I am never the victor. I long for the days when the pain was but a mere migraine, easily fixed with a warm compress, temple massage, and a long nap (or a strong prescription drug if I’m being completely honest). Daily, I wish for a personal medic or, better yet, a magical nipple fairy who could wave a wand and “bippity- boppity-boo” make all things right in my universe again. But of course, I am not afforded such luxuries.