She didn't even buy me dinner

This afternoon, a woman I had never met before came into my bedroom and asked to see my breasts. Within 20 minutes she was squeezing them and it wasn't objectionable at all. In fact, I paid her to do so.

Oh the Lactation Consultant, she has changed my life. You would think after three kids, I could just throw a baby on the boob and be done with it. But then, you haven't met Maeve. Oh no, my third baby is out to make things as difficult on me as possible (see: worst two hours of my life in labor) and decided she was going to throw a wrench into the process.

It started off innocently enough in the labor and delivery room. Maeve latched right on and seemed to enjoy her first snack on the boob. As the hours went by, she was happy to oblige me when I stuck her on the breast. But there was a familiar little twinge, one I had with both Jack and Emmie. But I wasn't worried -- for me, breastfeeding usually starts with soreness at the initial latch for about two or three weeks, and then goes away.

I even asked the lactation consultant at the hospital if she thought there was a tongue-tie issue (where her tongue can't come far enough out of her mouth) and she said there wasn't, she just needed a deeper latch and better positioning.

By the time we got home Tuesday night, the pain was still there, but manageable. By Wednesday night, I was bawling because it hurt intensely throughout the entire feeding, on both sides, no matter what position or latch depth I used. I was crying because it hurt, but I was also crying because I was scared to feed my own child. Hormonal much?

Looking at my cracked, blistered and bleeding nipples (isn't that an awesome picture in your head?) and after using the jaws of life to disengage her from said nipple, I decided to pump for a few feedings to give myself a break. But how to get her the milk? I dreaded nipple confusion and didn't want to do anything to compromise her ability to breastfeed. If there's one thing I am good at in this motherhood thing, it's breastfeeding. Not to mention that a third baby doesn't have any other options -- there aren't enough hands to go around and certainly not a free one to hold a bottle while the other balances baby. So we gave her the milk in syringe. Just squirted it right into her little mouth and she was happy with that.

Now pumping is not pain-free either, but I control the level of suction as well as the duration. Imagine my surprise and delight when I looked down and saw the pump pulling straight blood out of my nipple and depositing it in the precious, precious breastmilk. Strangely, it didn't deter me from continuing. Failure is not an option.

However, this made me realize it was time to pull out the big guns and call in a specialist. I needed help.

Enter Judy, the Lactation Consultant from on high. She made a house call this morning and assessed the situation. And no, I'm not talking about that guy nicknamed "The Situation" on MTV's The Jersey Shore. She got right down to business and told me I had a bad case of cracked bleeding nipples brought on by a problem with Maeve's latch.

Turns out, my dear sweet girl with the tiny face has several strikes against her in the nursing column. First, she has a short tongue. Second, she likes to suck on her own tongue. Third, she has a receding chin. Fourth, she has a high, arched palate. Those aren't dealbreakers, but instead make the whole thing infinitely more difficult when it comes to getting the nipple correctly positioned as far back and high in her mouth as possible.

From the outside, her latch looks great. On the inside, it feels like a barracuda has gotten hold of my nipple and wants to make me its lunch. It's awesome. You'll have to trust me on that.

To correct these issues, she gave me some instructions. First and foremost, I am to to discontinue using the Lansinoh cream they gave me at the hospital and get a prescription for Dr. Jack Newman's All-Purpose Nipple Cream. She was so emphatic, I was scared to deviate from the plan. Second, I should feed Maeve from the breast only every other feeding, pumping the other feedings to give my nipples a break. Third, I should try using a nipple shield (a thin, flexible piece of silicone that prevents baby from having direct contact with your skin). And fourth, I should give it some time.

After helping me get her appropriately latched on for about 15 minutes, she concluded that things would start looking up as soon as my cracked, bloody nipples healed. Probably in a few days. Yay?

This evening, I fed Maeve from the boob tap and after struggling slightly for a few minutes to get her latched on, she settled in for a painful feeding. Not painful like yesterday, but still sore. Then I tried the nipple shield and it rocked my world. Sore, but no pain. Alle-freaking-luia.

Afterward I applied the new nipple cream and I am pretty sure the sky opened up and brought me to a new level of consciousness because the improvement in just two hours was like night and day. I want to make out with you, Dr. Newman. Call me. Love you.

Maeve wasn't bothered by the silicone sheath on her food source, so maybe we're on to something. I have very high hopes. In the meantime, I have new respect for pumping moms. Holy shit is that annoying -- you spend 15 minutes pumping, then 15 minutes feeding, then you have to go clean everything and put it all away and store the milk and an hour later at 4 a.m., you can finally go back to sleep. Or, you can stay up with the baby sleeping on your chest while you watch the dudes on This Old House install a new bathroom fan on the roof of a house in 10 minutes flat. If you are in need of such a project, I feel confident I can do it for you. At cost.

And sorry for anyone who came here looking for pictures of my new baby and instead found themselves armed with more knowledge of my nipples than they ever dreamed possible.