Let’s talk about mastitis.

At the hospital, after my baby arrived, I was overwhelmed with the amount of breast milk that I had. Only three days into my baby’s birth, I could barely walk straight from the weight of the full breasts, especially in the mornings. One of the nurses who used to give us baby-related lessons told us that breast milk is a blessing but if you don’t empty your breasts adequately, your breasts will unforgivingly make you miserable. I thought they were a bit exaggerated, her words, until recently.

I am not sure what caused it, was it that I got too busy during the festive season and reduced the number of times I expressed milk? We had no nanny for some parts of the season and were hosting a group of guests, so I counted on my baby to empty the breasts. Wrong move. It started off with chills and pain in my joints. Now, traditionally, this is usually a sign of malaria, but the tests negated this assumption.

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A few days later, the pain in one of my breasts, which I thought was excess milk became unbearable – even after feedings and expressing. When I went to see the doctor, one who humoured me by insinuating that I got a C-section due to laziness (rolls eyes and clenches fists), he confirmed that I had got mastitis, a breast infection caused by blocked ducts.

Luckily, this time round he jumped to the right conclusion and gave me medication which brought relief, but at the same time, seemed to dry up my flow. It was so bad that we used up all the milk I had stored to use once I resumed work. The baby also started suckling slowly and I could sense distress from not getting full after breastfeeding. And let me tell you, there is nothing more heart-breaking as this for a mother.

I watched in horror as the last bag was removed from the freezer and defrosted just so the baby could have something to "eat” that evening. Not knowing how I was going to manage with her next meal, I found myself crying during one of the evening feeds. So, I put my baby on my chest and walked around her room, crying out to God to please restore my flow. Because how could he bless me with a fruit of the womb but not let me feed her adequately till she was at least half a year old? Surely, he was able to move things around and get me more breast milk. Suddenly, Amy Grant’s "Better than a Hallelujah” made sense. I was living the lyrics.

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"God loves a lullaby in a mother’s tears in the dead of the night, better than a hallelujah sometimes... We pour out our miseries, God just hears a melody. Beautiful the mess we are, the honest cries of a breaking heart, are better than a hallelujah.”

I promised myself that if it meant eating the entire fridge and changing my closet again, then let it be, but I needed enough milk for my baby girl. I even contemplated stopping the medication because even when I took naps, I woke up empty, yet naps usually brought me full breasts. I was restless. I needed someone to empathise with me or pray for me over the phone, but I also felt like this was an affair between me and God. So, I put my baby on the stroller and took her for a walk, so that I could breathe, but also to talk to God.

Now, no sooner had I left the house, than I ran into an old friend who was also on her evening walk. Long story short, I poured out my devastation (and tears), and she ended up praying for and encouraging me right there on the pavement. Isn’t it amazing that God’s presence is everywhere? Long story short, my baby’s food was flowing back within 24 hours, and I cannot explain the joy that came with that! I didn’t think the sound of the baby swallowing milk during her feeding would sound so good and soothing. Her sleep stretches in the nights have gone back to normal, and all is well.

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Now, apart from God’s goodness and provision for what exactly we need at the right moment, I learned a few more lessons. Should a new mom need them, here goes: