Don’t get me wrong. My husband puts in a LOT of effort. When it’s convenient to him. He’ll change diapers. Cook meals. Help with the cleaning, but for some reason, in today’s modern age, he refuses to step in and breastfeed.
I’ve read the stories. If a Bruce can become a Caitlyn seemingly overnight. Why can’t my Adam become a Melody six times a day, every four hours? Gender is fluid, but our responsibility to this child is concrete. He needs to eat. And I need to sleep.
I feel like we carry equal weight otherwise. We both bring in money. We both change diapers. We both take care of the house. But he draws the line at breastfeeding. Anytime I ask for help he gets frustrated and seethes “I can’t.”
Oh really? “Can’t?” Or “won’t?” He hasn’t even tried.
I have puffy, cauliflowered, plumes of former areolae thanks to my husband making ME the sole breastfeeder. Our little man just tears away at what used to be my fall back plan – perfect nipples. But now? I don’t know. If our idyllic life takes a turn for the worst, I guess I”ll have to drive Uber or some shit. And nobody cares what the Uber driver’s nipples look like.
His only form of compromise is to offer me a nipple guard. Really?? We might as well poison our baby with a rubber bottle nipple. Is it so wrong that I want our son to have the same bond with his dad that he has with his mom? The bond two people can only experience by sharing a common nipple? And maybe, just MAYBE, I can finish the bottle of wine some nights because my husband has stepped up and filled his half of the parenting contract?
Every two hours I am either feeding a milk vampire – who I love and would die for and means the entire world to me – or I am pumping in a broom closet somewhere at work. Just once, it would be nice to come home and see my husband with his breasts in the pump. I mean, it would probably clog the machine. He refuses to even shave his chest. Apparently chest hair is more important than solidarity with his wife.
I treasure every moment with my son. EVERY moment. Except the ones I regret having a child. Because HOLY SHIT! My nipples are shredded! I hope with every fiber of my being that my son doesn’t end up like his father – refusing to help his wife breastfeed. I hope our little Bruce becomes a Caitlyn so he can relate.
I’ve tried everything to get my husband to help split some of this responsibility. I’ve rolled my eyes at him when he’s asked how I’m feeling. I’ve woken him up for no reason when I get up at 3am to feed. I’ve yelled at him. But nothing works. I guess I just married one of those guys. His idea of pump and dump is to masturbate.
I just want what’s best for my baby and I’ve experienced no closer bond with my baby than when I breastfeed him. I wish my husband would want to experience the same feeling. But he won’t even try! What if something happens to me??? They say in today’s modern world, a woman really can have it all, but I don’t know. Not as long as men still refuse to breastfeed.