I Feel Just Like This Cat After A Week Of Bad Nursing Aversion

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I’ll tell you what… I feel like a real fool.

I’ve written briefly about nursing aversion (otherwise known as breastfeeding agitation) here, in my fledgling and admittedly naive days of experiencing the thing. I don’t intend to minimize what I went through back then, but I can’t help but wonder how I missed the warning of what was to come, if I was given one at all?

Are you concerned for mothers who shed tears and ache a whole heart over this not uncommon experience? There’s no reason for fear or worry. It’s just nursing aversion, which mothers would already know about if the topic weren’t so unreachable and misunderstood today even among communities of new parents.

It’s “just” — but really, it’s the rare person who knows how to recognize, much less alleviate it. Why don’t more people discuss nursing aversion, the process as it naturally unfolds — from beginning to end, from first whispers of itchiness in the gut to the frightening instinct to escape the child, run out of the house into the driveway, and punch through the car window?

No, it’s not just me. And I wish more of us could talk about it.

My past week was colored by nursing aversion in ways it never has been thus far. (Aversion does not essentially mean “time to stop breastfeeding,” by the way. It’s an indication of significant hormonal changes in the mother, not necessarily a decrease of need in the child).

I’m kinda… too traumatized… and I, like many others, still can’t talk about it.

Are there words for nightmares? Thankfully, there is help for nursing aversion so the suffering can be reduced.

In any case, definitely commiserating with this mama cat.