It was just a few days after I brought my baby, Lily, home from the hospital when I found myself locked in the bathroom at 1:30 AM, desperately trying to keep the noise down so as not to wake my partner. Tears streamed down my face as I grappled with shooting pain while clutching a crumpled sheet of paper with the lactation hotline number. I was prepared for some challenges with breastfeeding, but the reality was far more intense than I anticipated. My pain tolerance was reaching its limit.
Earlier that night, I had cried out in agony while nursing, so much so that my partner grew concerned. I briefly considered asking him to dash out for formula to give my beleaguered breasts a break during another late-night feeding. But I gritted my teeth and decided to tough it out, thinking I could tackle the next feeding later. This led me to that desperate 1:30 AM call.
Finally, someone answered.
Strike one: it was a man. A MAN. My first instinct was to hang up, but looking down at my sore, bleeding nipples pushed me to give it a shot. Taking a deep breath, I asked for a lactation consultant.
To my dismay, the man explained that the lines were “backed up,” and I would have to wait about four hours for a callback. FOUR HOURS. I tried to convey my urgency, but he assured me that he understood and would have someone reach out to me as soon as possible. I was left with the daunting task of feeding Lily again, enduring yet another painful session.
For the gentlemen reading this, it might be hard to grasp my predicament. Allow me to illustrate:
Imagine awakening in the dead of night to find that your sensitive areas are on fire. Before you can fully process the situation, you hear what sounds like an enraged piranha. The only way to silence it? You need to attach it to your inflamed skin. Feeling desperate, you remember there’s a hotline for relief. Trembling in agony, you dial it.
A voice answers.
WOMAN: “Hello, Sensitive Areas Hotline! How can I assist you?”
YOU: “MY SENSITIVE AREAS ARE ON FIRE!”
WOMAN: “I’m sorry to hear that, but our call queue is currently backed up. However, I assure you that I understand your frustration.”
YOU: “Are you kidding me? You don’t even have sensitive areas!”
WOMAN: “That’s correct. But rest assured, someone who does will get back to you in four hours. Please hang tight.”
YOU: “FOUR HOURS?! What about the piranha?”
WOMAN: “Well, it does need to eat. You might want to go ahead and attach it to your sensitive areas, or it will starve. Your call is in line and will be answered shortly.”
Gentlemen, does that help illustrate the situation? Quite a predicament, isn’t it?
After the call ended, I felt an overwhelming urge to set that paper I had been clutching on fire. I wished I had an easy way to connect with other women who were also awake, wrestling with their own struggles in the middle of the night. I knew if they were told a four-hour wait time, we’d rally together, a collective army of exhausted mothers, marching on the lactation hotline. We’d storm the place, nipples ablaze, and demand, “Is there any chance you can help us sooner?”
But then, a thought struck me: perhaps they truly were overwhelmed. Maybe they were working tirelessly to assist other women, just like me, who were awake, alone, and crying on the bathroom floor. That knowledge provided a glimmer of comfort, reminding me I wasn’t entirely alone in my struggle.
It wasn’t that guy’s fault for being the one on the other end of the line. However, I do have one small request for those managing the lactation hotline: I wholeheartedly support workplace equality, but could we please consider having a woman answer calls and relay wait times? Some experiences are best understood by those who have lived them.
And I promise, I’ll steer clear of any position at the “Sensitive Areas Hotline.” Deal?
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In summary, navigating the world of breastfeeding can be challenging, especially in those sleepless nights filled with pain and confusion. It’s important to remember that support is out there, even when it feels like the odds are stacked against you.