It Takes a Village.... or Just Me....

If you're a mother who has ever nursed her children, then you will be able to identify with me here. If you are not, then you may not find this humorous at all... or then again you may. I have debated on whether or not to write this one, but I have laughed to myself too many times about this whole issue when I have thought about it over the years, so I am throwing caution to the wind and going for it.... Enjoy.


When I gave birth to my first son, I wanted to be the BEST MOTHER EVER. EVER... do you hear me? Well, I can tell you this.... I have failed on that in about 47 billion areas, but on trying to be a mother who breast-fed her child, I should have gotten some sort of medal. In fact, even though I am not Buddhist, I firmly believe I could have been a wet nurse in a former life. No joke. I should have just lent myself to some neo-natal unit and sat in a chair and let them bring those babies to me to feed .... sigh. I was a freak of nature. No joke. Here's proof....

For example (I always here Hermione's voice from the first Harry Potter movie in my mind when I write these words... hee hee!), I had to cut up baby diapers to wear in my nursing bras... none of those little pad things for me. My boobs laughed in the face of those little "nursing pads." As if those could hold back the flood gates. Ha! I would have to wear overalls half the time - and even then, I could soke the front of my overalls within a couple of hours of putting them on. No joke. I remember going to the dentist about two months after Zach was born, feeding him thoroughly just before heading to the appointment, and leaving the appointment wearing the drape because there was no way to explain the drenched status and designs on the front of my overalls. Sigh!

Now, another interesting aspect of breast feeding for me was the ability I had to write on the opposite wall in the living room of our somewhat small apartment. Whenever I was sitting on the living room sofa and preparing to feed Zach, or preparing to hook myself up to the industrial sized pump that extracted milk to be used in feedings from a bottle (few that there were), if Zach or the pump were not immediately ready, I could write graffiti on the opposite wall, a good 15 feet away.... I kid you not. And I am sure I could have hit farther targets, I just was not privvy to do so! Now, you lactating specialists can say what you want... I did go through all those steps and waited the allotted time periods, and blah, blah, blah.... it did not matter. Poor Zach had a full milk bath at least 6 times a day (now I'm hearing Cornelius Brothers and Sister Rose... "I found myself changing him at least 6 times a day... it's so unusual to soak 'em with milk this way... cause I'm tellin' ya... gotta enough milk to feed the third world, I believe, I believe, I believe I was born a wet nurse....") and choked ~ bless his heart.... and I thought I could get it under control for Tyler, but it didn't change a thing!

For those of you who have never breast-fed a child or who do not have a baby in your household, what I am about to discuss may knock you off your rocker. I do apologize ahead of time. But here goes, in the name of poetic license ~ or something like that! :) Okay, I did pump breast milk so there would be a good supply of it for when I returned to teaching after Zach's birth. And one of the funniest scenes each day happened after my former husband would return home from work and we would sit down watch television after supper (or sometimes even during supper). Our apartment was not truly big enough for a true dining room, so we ate at the coffee table in the living room. So there we would be ~ me and my then husband on the sofa, Zach in his bouncy seat or walker, supper dishes on the coffee table, television on Jeopardy or Wheel of Fortune ~ with me hooked up to an industrial sized breast pump, working overtime to fill up two bottles for Zach. No joke. (When I say industrial sized, I mean this thing was as big as a small wheeled suitcase... and had enough tubing and wires to be considered a scientific or nuclear device. I am certain I should have had some sort of license to be using it....). And nobody in this scenaro seemed to find any of this out of the ordinary. We carried on conversations. We ate dinner, if that were still going on. We called out answers to the television game shows. We discussed our days. I kid you not!!!! If you had told me a scant 15 months before, when we were getting married, that I would be acting thusly, I would have laughed and laughed before calling the people with that special jacket that helped you hug yourself, because what you were proposing was ridiculous. And yet, there we used to be... and it was just as normal for us as breathing. And what makes it even more funny is if you happen to know my former husband. Pick yourself up off the floor ~ now.... really.... I mean it! I have to give it to him. He was a trooper through lots of stuff back then. To be honest, we both were!

Now, here's the biggest kicker for me. I have the hardest time reconciling how I can have bosoms so big I can put my whole head in the cup of my bra when I am pregnant and nursing and then have them turn into the nothingness I have today. You know what I think.... I think it has something to do with that darned Neverending Story and Atreyu who, I just know it, has finally let the "Nothing" go and the Nothing came and took my boobs, just like that dingo ate that lady's baby, supposedly (I just keep hearing Elaine's horrible Aussie accent from Sienfeld doing that line). I am amazed that I ever had a chest like that ~ and Mother Nature is a very cruel woman to give me a hint at what having bosoms is like. Darn her! At least I have the memories....

So, ladies.... (and the few men who have dared to stroll into this demented world of mine), I do hope you have enjoyed my dalliance down memory lane this morning into afternoon. I have to admit that I took a nap in the middle of writing to commemorate summer, as it is drawing to a close. I have to do little silly things like that just to keep myself me. And I ate peppermint pie for brunch.... just because. No, I don't have my children today ~ I would never set such an example for them.... :)

Until next time.....

B