Will cabbage dry up my milk?
the funny & not-so-funny 2am frantic search for breastfeeding answers
Cabbage. I’m shoving cabbage into my bra. A 2am frantic Google search led me here to this place in my kitchen where I’m placing cold cabbage leaves on my boobs, with some variation of: “boobs hurt while weaning” and “lumpy boobs breastfeeding” and “breastfeeding and how to make milk stop” and “how long will it take until my boobs feel normal after breastfeeding?”
I discover several new revelations:
Cabbage *may or may not* help dry up milk (more studies needed).
Weaning could take weeks.
*Newsflash*… my boobs will never feel normal again.
I text my new mom friends about how to make the milk stop. Most of these texts start with, “Is this normal that my [fill in the blank]?” In this case, my boobs are lumpy and hard and painful and I can’t sleep and I need to know how to make it stop.
“Cabbage! You need cabbage!” my cousin’s wife replies. She has also informed me that my boobs will never be the same again. She welcomes me to my new life with potato sacks.
So here I am, rinsing off cabbage leaves, patting them dry with a paper towel, placing them in a container (just like the instructions tell me), letting them chill in the fridge, and then placing one leaf on each boob. Is it working? I’m six hours in and I’ve changed the leaves three times after they wilted. I will say the cold cabbage feels like an ice pack to soothe inflammation. Is it working miracles? Not quite yet, but hey, what do I have to lose?
My milk. My baby’s milk. My baby’s state of being a baby. That’s what I have to lose.
Of course, at 2am, the frantic Googling is never just about the cabbage.
Add to my search history: “am I stopping breastfeeding too soon?” and “how long should I breastfeed?” and “will my baby survive on formula?” and “is it selfish to want to stop breastfeeding?”
I know all of the answers to these questions. If I went for a walk with a new mom friend while we pushed our strollers side by side, I would ease all of her concerns. You should breastfeed as long as you and your baby want to. You can stop at any time. You don’t even have to start if you don’t want to. You have done an amazing job making it this far and what a gift that is for your baby.
And yet, our own minds let us believe lies. Lies that we’re quitting. Lies that we should stick it out longer otherwise our baby won’t grow and his brain won’t develop and he’ll never walk or talk or go to college.
Breastfeeding felt clunky to me from day 1. To kick off my journey, my baby arrived 5 weeks early from an emergency c-section, so my body had no idea it was time to even make milk. I spent days pumping in my hospital room every two hours while nurses fed my baby bottles down the hall in the NICU. (Meanwhile, it took a nurse plus my husband just to carry me to the bathroom.) Finally, one drop came out and the lactation specialist squealed, “Liquid gold!” She introduced me to nipple shields and my husband pumped small drops through a syringe into the shield. But my magnesium-overdosed son couldn’t stay awake long enough to nurse.
Eleven months later and we found our rhythm together. I needed my special pillow in my special glider in the perfect position to make it happen almost every time for 11 months, but we did it. I did it. Through every Google search for the perfect balm for cracked nipples, the perfect hot shower or cold compress remedy for lumpy breasts, the perfect nursing/pumping bra, we made it to the finish line.
I’m sticking these cabbage leaves in my bra with pride. In moments of doubt and weakness, I’m repeating to myself, “Thank you, body. Thank you, body. We did it. We did it.”
Give these a try…
Fresh cabbage! (as my friend Emily said, “Go organic! You deserve it.”)
Nursing pads (try sticking them in the freezer and then putting them in your bra while you’re weaning or having any discomfort)
My Brest Friend pillow (a game changer for my nursing experience)
“Becoming a mother leaves no woman as it found her. It unravels her and rebuilds her. It cracks her open, takes her to her edges. It’s both beautiful and brutal, often at the same time.”
-Nikki McCahon, matrescence educator, women’s life cycle guide, and host of the Dear Mama podcast