I am convinced that once you have a baby, your breasts become capable of independent thought.
Independent, I said, not intelligent.
The other day I was waiting at a stoplight and the alarm of a car in the gas station to my left was blaring into the street. My boobs responded exactly the same way they would to a crying infant - with sudden swelling, tingling and leaking all over the place.
Ummmmm, crazy tatas? Yes. Uh, milk is not going to solve that car's problem. It's a car. Thanks.
The books I read during pregnancy did warn me that my fun bags would detonate every time I heard my (or anyone else's for that matter) baby cry. They also included a little throwaway line that I paid no attention to at the time: "or when you think about your baby." What?! Seriously, when he's not even with me and there is no pump actually on and working - there is no need for fountains of milk!
Speaking of pumping, everyone from the writers of baby books to Troy's pediatrician to the internet pajama-people seem to regard breastfeeding while working as the most difficult thing in the world. Maybe the future will prove them right but for now, I find it pretty simple. Of course, I also have a really sweet set up, so maybe I'm just incredibly blessed. My office has great facilities I can use to pump thrice daily and none of my five bosses have any problem with my taking two extra fifteen minute breaks or letting my pump pieces air-dry in the cabinet. Actually, the extra breaks often make me more productive as I come back with fresh eyes and ideas.
The only time pumping at work has ever been a ridiculous pain in the tush was during our company (indoor) picnic. They hosted the event offsite in a place with no private areas. I ended up sitting on the sink in the bustling ladies room trying to keep a jacket over me. Cause really, ain't nobody need to see THAT! It would have been so much easier if I'd sprouted another pair of hands.
I have heard that the greatest indicator of breastfeeding success is spousal support. Since my baby is happy, healthy, and rapidly becoming a "lift-with-your-legs" sort of butter tub, clearly I need to give credit where credit is due. My husband is amazing! He gets up at 4:30 every day to go work a 10 (or more) hour day but during the night he always gets up and hands me my cute little milk tank and then changes Troy's diaper after he's finished eating. Eli is a loving, supportive, adorable, father and the best guy I know. Thanks for marrying me amorcito!
Independent, I said, not intelligent.
The other day I was waiting at a stoplight and the alarm of a car in the gas station to my left was blaring into the street. My boobs responded exactly the same way they would to a crying infant - with sudden swelling, tingling and leaking all over the place.
Ummmmm, crazy tatas? Yes. Uh, milk is not going to solve that car's problem. It's a car. Thanks.
The books I read during pregnancy did warn me that my fun bags would detonate every time I heard my (or anyone else's for that matter) baby cry. They also included a little throwaway line that I paid no attention to at the time: "or when you think about your baby." What?! Seriously, when he's not even with me and there is no pump actually on and working - there is no need for fountains of milk!
Speaking of pumping, everyone from the writers of baby books to Troy's pediatrician to the internet pajama-people seem to regard breastfeeding while working as the most difficult thing in the world. Maybe the future will prove them right but for now, I find it pretty simple. Of course, I also have a really sweet set up, so maybe I'm just incredibly blessed. My office has great facilities I can use to pump thrice daily and none of my five bosses have any problem with my taking two extra fifteen minute breaks or letting my pump pieces air-dry in the cabinet. Actually, the extra breaks often make me more productive as I come back with fresh eyes and ideas.
The only time pumping at work has ever been a ridiculous pain in the tush was during our company (indoor) picnic. They hosted the event offsite in a place with no private areas. I ended up sitting on the sink in the bustling ladies room trying to keep a jacket over me. Cause really, ain't nobody need to see THAT! It would have been so much easier if I'd sprouted another pair of hands.
I have heard that the greatest indicator of breastfeeding success is spousal support. Since my baby is happy, healthy, and rapidly becoming a "lift-with-your-legs" sort of butter tub, clearly I need to give credit where credit is due. My husband is amazing! He gets up at 4:30 every day to go work a 10 (or more) hour day but during the night he always gets up and hands me my cute little milk tank and then changes Troy's diaper after he's finished eating. Eli is a loving, supportive, adorable, father and the best guy I know. Thanks for marrying me amorcito!
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| Chunk baby cuteness |
You've brought back memories! I LOVED breast feeding - not too keen on the leaking boobs part, especially when we got all dressed up for an evening out...slightly embarrassing to be sitting in an elegant five-star restaurant, thinking of baby (babies during the twins) and drenching myself. I laugh now, but then was red-faced. Enjoy, enjoy - precious holy moments are going on now. GREAT story. Love it and the three of you. <3
ReplyDeleteI was a big fan of the Motherhood Maternity cotton pads, since they were washable/reusable. But I didn't have too many of those kind of issues, and also, when you're staying at home, it's less of a big deal. So glad that most of the BFing is going so well for you guys, when it doesn't work, it sucks so bad.
ReplyDeleteThree cheers for Eli!!! And you and Ellie seem to have something in common with super cute milk-producing butter tubs :-) (and those tatas need to stop being silly and listening to car alarms...in the meantime...thankful that you don't livein the inner city any more!!)
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