Friday 29th April 2011. A date most people will remember where they were, who they were with and what they were doing when they watched this:
Friday 29th April 2011. A date I won’t forget and will definitely remember when I go to add it belatedly into the dusty baby book as the day my boy got his first tooth!
Yey! Cried my heart, bursting with love and pride that my little boy has reached a major milestone.
Yikes! Cried my nipples. At the thought of potentially being put through the equivalent of a mini human cheese grater.
A week in with new tooth and all was going well. He did keep pulling a face with his tongue hanging out just one side of his mouth, like a stupid salivating Scooby Doo but it was still cute (a Mother’s love knows no bounds). Great news was my nipples were holding up OK. No problems or clamping down. However, this angelic behaviour was to be short lived. On a trip to Wales to see friends he bit me so hard and pulled away with such force that he drew blood. I wondered if I should sell him off to Hollywood for a part in the next Twilight feature. Or even feed him to Colwyn Bay’s seagull population. In a way it was good he did it here, in the house of a very good friend who, after a traumatic birth, had been unable to breastfeed and had been feeling guilty about it. I hope the sight of me mopping a bleeding nipple with Blake’s bib made her feel better about the fact she would never have to put her own precious puppies through this torture.
You do a google search or consult the Breastfeeding Bible and it tells you to do the following;
The firm approach
Firmly shout “No!” to a breastfeeding baby who bites you. Tried that. He laughed.
The ignorance approach
Tried taking him off, facing him away and telling him “You’ve changed. Have a minute to think about what you’ve done!” whilst completely ignoring him for 5 minutes. He laughed again and wasn’t bothered about being turned away from Mummy. It was a great opportunity for him to fiddle with his tackle and not get told off.
The ‘I am upset’ approach
Tried doing the pretend sad face complete with oscar winning whimpering cries. No joy. He laughed so hard he sharted.
The ‘You-will-let-go-you-little-*******!!!’ approach
So I was left with a final method I’d heard about but had up to now, avoided. Having a rather ample bosom has proved difficult and challenging as a breastfeeder. As human beings our nostrils are designed to be able to withstand being pushed into a breast and still being able to breathe out the sides. (Try it yourself – flatten your nose with the palm of your hand and take a deep breath. Wow! You can still breathe! Aren’t us homo sapiens great?). Unfortunately for my boy, my K cup boobies didn’t just push into his nose but the fleshy squigyness of my mammaries has the ability to completely engulf his whole nostril area, up to his eyebrows! So, when I feed him, I HAVE to hold the boob I’m feeding from, from underneath so as to not completely asphyxiate my boy. I’ve got the shoulder pain to prove it but he’s worth it. So this final method to stop him biting involved taking the hand supporting the boob away and instead using it to quickly push his face into my boob. Some would call it semi suffocation… I would call it necessary! He very rapidly has no choice but to open his mouth to take a breath and my poor nipple is released from his shark-like jaws!
It’s either that or I stop breastfeeding, which I don’t want to do, or get myself some garlic, a stake and Buffy to come help which I figure might be a bit over dramatic. Hopefully he will learn that biting=not being able to breathe and stop very soon. I’m praying that he will learn to stop before the top teeth come through. My Fruit Pastille sized nipples have retracted to the size of Tic Tacs just thinking about it.