I finally broke down yesterday and decided to start with the Benadryl. Anecdotal evidence from other breastfeeding mothers outnumbered alarmist internet information like this:
Diphenhydramine is secreted in breast milk. Because of the risk of stimulation and seizures in infants — especially newborns and prematures — antihistamines should not be used by nursing mothers.
Seizures – seriously? Yet here I am, taking Benadryl anyway. I am the world’s worst mother. I did bottle feed him all last night, and is there anything sadder than standing over the bathroom sink at 4am, wobbling from sleepiness while pumping drugged milk into a bottle to be poured down the drain? I decided hesitantly to breastfeed today…and Cranky Baby doesn’t seem to be affected at all. Unlike me, of course. I’m a walking zombie today. Benadryl is like a fluffy pillow wrapped around my head. A nice, warm, fluffy pillow. Wouldn’t it be nice to lie on a fluffy pillow right now? Yes, yes it would.
The itching is slightly better but more importantly the hives finally seem to be healing. They’ve gone from huge, spreading welts back down to small, dark pink dots. There are still some areas that are all one big itching welt of doom, but my arms look like arms again. I am very much looking forward to the time when I don’t want to scrape my skin off with a bit of steel wool, but I’ll take what I can get for now.
Cranky Baby is all snuggled on his Boppy right now. I haven’t been playing with him as much as I should – the pillow around my head makes it hard to be really interactive – but he seems pretty happy. Maybe he will want to take a nap with mama. What do you say, kid?
I’ve got to say, the Baby Einstein stuff is sort of oddly addictive. We’ve got Baby Neptune, which is all about water. Ellison loves it. Loves. The bits where water bubbles? He laughs and bounces and coos. Does he laugh or bounce or coo for mom? No he does not. Apparently bubbles are far, far more exciting than his mother.
I don’t want to be one of those parents who plop their kid in front of the TV so they can get things done…but then I find myself saying things like “Baby Einstein let me eat breakfast today!” and I wonder if I’m already one of those parents.
One reason I’m so cranky? I have hives.
The good news is that I think we’ve managed to steam clean all the evil Arm & Hammer pet odor stuff (to which I am, um, somewhat allergic) out of the carpet. All hail the Bissell SpotBot. Last time this happened (because there was a last time) I just sort of had to wait until the offending allergin made its leisurely way out of the air and settled deep into the base of my spine. No, wait – that’s LSD. Anyway, steam cleaning definitely beats an elderly vacuum. (I dig the SpotBot. I sort of want to run around the house spot-cleaning random areas like some sort of demented carpet fairy. Perhaps an outfit will be involved.)
Of course, last time I got hives I also had the option of a nice Benadryl and a long nap, which (if I recall correctly) eventually ended my purgatory of itch. This time, all I can do is sit merrily on my hands and think fond thoughts about those halcyon days when my entire body did not feel as though it was covered in flea bites. Breastfeeding mamas do not get to take Benadryl. Breastfeeding mamas can do nothing but refrain from scratching. Scratching = bad, according to the Internet (which does not lie). I’m unclear on exactly why it’s bad. Maybe the Internet is like the mean older sibling who derives sick pleasure from making her younger, more gullible sister squirm with misery. In that case, I think I’m karmically screwed. (Remind me to tell you about the time I told my sister that normal-sized zits were just the introductory version and that the real ones would take up her whole forehead…)