Paying Homage to Cabbage

WARNING: The proceeding blog post includes such words as "breastfeeding", "engorgement", and "gas". 

For those of you who are prone to blushing, scoffing, or using phrases like "too much information!" you might want to skip this post.

You've been warned...

Just a stinky vegetable that gives me gas? 

NO LONGER! 

The cabbage will go down in the "History of Erin" books as a beautiful, amazing, healing flower of paradise.

I was heartbroken to find out I had to stop breastfeeding Delia last week.  I am ashamed to admit I was feeling resentful towards her because whenever I ate chocolate, dairy, and most fruits and veggies she was irritable and gassy.  So my diet was pretty limited.  I was fantasizing and craving foods like pizza, ice cream, cheese sandwiches, and chocolate chip cookies.  Even though I was excited for the time when I could resume my junk food diet, nothing prepared me for the abrupt halt in nursing my sweet baby.  When I had to stop, I realised how lucky I was that I could breastfeed, how precious that time was, and how satisfied I felt giving my baby the best nutrition possible.  I've been incredibly emotional and clingy towards all my kids ever since- I never realised how important the simple act of breastfeeding was in my life.

Poor Delia was an absolute champ about the whole thing.  She went through a hard day and then drank the formula like she'd been doing it all her life.  She hasn't shown any signs of trauma or anxiety either (I know that sounds silly, but I honestly thought she would be bad-tempered and angry at me for abandoning her).

I on the other hand, suffered not only emotionally, but the engorgement was excruciating.  The pain, the sleepless nights, and the anxiety was so horrible!  I had previously heard about using a cabbage compress, and many friends suggested it, but I didn't believe it would make any difference.  Finally, after enduring a week of pain without relief I was desperate to try anything.  The FIRST night after applying the cabbage I slept like a baby (a baby who sleeps through the night- which no baby does, so I don't know why we say that, but you get the idea).  The relief has only gotten better with each hour and I could dance for joy.  Do I smell like a combination of rotting cabbage and sour milk?  Yes.  Do I really care? Nope!  Thank you whoever decided to put cabbage in your bra!  You were crazy, but I needed you!