-What We Don’t Talk About When We Don’t Talk About Breast feeding
Why did no one tell me how hard it is?
It is three a.m. I’m gingerly reclined in bed, a bag of frozen peas on my chest and a heating pad across my lower back. I’m trying to remember if it’s OK to take more painkillers.
“I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” I whisper to myself, to the room. My son, who we’ve nicknamed Sir Squeaks A Lot, sleeps noisily but soundly in his bassinet. My husband is dead to the world. I am racked with anxiety, sadness, pain and hormones.