Sunday, September 20, 2009

The Aisle of Shame

Well, it would appear that Edie and I have come down with a case of Thrush. Thrush may sound like some awesome hair band from the 80's, but it's actually a bacterial infection that infants get in their mouths and then lovingly give to their Mothers nipples via breast feeding. And yes, I'm still attempting to breast feed. And I'm pretty sure I deserve a medal for perseverance, because this has been no easy row to hoe.

My milk production is still paltry, but has increased some since I last posted here. In fact, over the last few days, Edie and I had just started to get into some sort of routine with feedings. Things seemed to be improving just enough. She would take my breast, and actually nurse for 20-40 minutes without seeming pissed by my minimal supply. And when she would pull away or accidentally come off, I would check to find that I still seemed to have plenty of milk. A few times, she even rejected the bottle after finishing a 40 minute nursing session, which I took to mean she got enough from me. This was definitely a new thing and had just begun when I noticed that her tongue was suspiciously yellow. And then my boobs started burning after nursing. And then last night, she rejected my boob in rage after just a suck or two, but accepted the bottle gratefully. This did bad things to my delicate boob-ego. So I looked up "yellow tongue" in our baby book and bingo - Thrush to a tee. I called our pediatrician this morning and he called in some antibiotic drops for Edie and gave me the name of something to pick up over the counter for myself. If we don't both get treated, we'll just keep passing it back and forth.

So I left E with Jeff at home and ran to Bartells to pick up the drugs and some more diapers. And this is where I was made to walk The Aisle of Shame. Thankfully I have never had occasion to walk this aisle previously, but post-partum has changed that. I walked up to the pharmacy counter and asked them where I could pick up this cream that my doctor had spelled to me over the phone this morning. Something long and medical sounding, starting with a C... She politely pointed to aisle 30A and said, "Oh yes, you'll find that in the foot care section. It's an antifungal foot cream and you'll want to rub it on your nipples after each nursing session." Um, what? Are you telling me I have Athletes Boob? So embarrassing.

And while roaming that aisle looking for my boob-mold cream, I figured, what the hell, I might as well pick up some more stool softeners - also conveniently found in aisle 30A. Because the thing is, things in the bathroom department have finally returned to normal and my fear of tearing stitches has finally faded. BUT, the hospital said that when I got to that point, I was supposed to start taking my prenatal vitamins again. And guess what prenatal vitamins do?! Constipate you. I swear, pregnancy is just one giant conspiracy by the makers of stool softener to stay in business. Also worth noting - while I no longer need them, if I *had*, I could have swung around in that very same aisle after picking up my Lotrimin and Stool Softener and picked up a new pack of Tucks pads.

Why do they have to put everything gross and embarrassing in the same aisle? And when will I stop needing to buy so many gross and embarrassing products at the pharmacy??

4 comments:

Betsey said...

While I have always enjoyed reading your blogs, and loving your pure honesty, it has just gotten that much better since Edie came along. Thanks for sharing all your stories.

Tib said...

please forgive me when I say forlornly... OW. hoots in the house!

and when do you stop shopping in the gross embarrasing aisle? probably never again.

Kathleen said...

HAHAHA. Athlete's boob. That is the best title yet. Although it sounds horrible, quite frankly.

One stop shopping in the embarrasing aisle. At least they didn't have to call someone to help you over the loudspeaker...

Lindsey said...

I love this post. You are so refreshing.

Pregnancy has stripped me of all modesty and sense of privacy. This past weekend at Kaiser's San Diego Medical Center found my naked body and my naked boobs constantly exposed and fondled by the masses. I am EveryBoob.

So, in conclusion, keep marching down that aisle with pride. And here's hoping the Athlete's Boob clears up soon.