Tag Archives: breastfeed

On Being Milked Like a Cow


Grab. Squeeze. Pull Down. In very simple terms, that is how you hand milk a cow. It is also Pippa’s newest technique for either attempting to get more milk while nursing or purely for the entertainment value. I mean really she has to have something to do while she’s hanging out, doesn’t she? Don’t answer that! Perhaps it is the farming blood coming out in her, I’m not really sure. All I know is I used to complain about how pumping made me feel like I had more than I ever wanted in common with the popular milk breed, but this new little quirk of hers has that beat hands down. As if nursing a toddler that won’t wean doesn’t have its own particular set of challenges, see past complaints regarding gymnastics and circular kicks to the face, I’m now subjected to her not so pleasant grab and squeeze. Why does this bring me back to bad memories from college?If eventually I stop writing and start mooing, please stop me.

We’ve also hit that stage where you can tell people think it’s weird that we’re still nursing. If they were to ask, which no one does, the reasons are multiple. In fact I’ll tell you, maybe I’ll get a few less strange looks. They include the fact that she doesn’t sleep through the night and if I want her to sleep past 3 a.m. it’s a must, she’s pretty small for her age and not particularly fond of whole milk, so we’d like her to drink something, and if you were to get over your cultural biases it’s actually totally freaking normal, just not particularly convenient. This last point, combined with the fact that not everyone can nurse, is what I attribute to this country’s viewpoint on breastfeeding. We’re selfish as a country, we like ourselves and our freedoms and Mama’s who breastfeed give up even more of their time (think pumping, planning, nursing time) than those who use formula, time which is can be very valuable when you have little ones. This along with the fact that there is some strange stigma about a baby nursing as compared to someones boob hanging out of their dress, that makes us just nonsensical as a nation. Not that it keeps the creepers from staring at you in public, even when you’re covered up.

So the next time you see a Mama nursing, don’t stare or gawk, just know she’s doing it for reasons that must be pretty important to her and leave her the heck alone, and if the nursing one is a toddler then she really must have her reasons because I assure you no one nurses a toddler for funsies!


Acrobatic Breastfeeding Nymphs


When you first start breastfeeding your biggest concerns center on latching on, positioning, frequency, soreness, adjusting to breastfeeding, fast forward 9 months if you make it that long and you enter a whole new realm of challenging. Suddenly your baby who used to snuggle in and feed herself to sleep thinks she should be entertained while feeding and if you won’t do it she’ll do it herself. How you might ask? Well there’s always slapping you in the face or chest repeatedly. That’s a favorite. Then there is the nose grab, which is almost as painful as the sucker punch but not quite. If that isn’t enough there’s always the crazy legs, kicking at you, away from you. It gets even more entertaining when they decide that isn’t enough and they should make a game out of feeding itself, latching on and then off, rolling away giggling then diving bombing your chest. Screaming desperately if you even think to stop these shenanigans or try to instill some breastfeeding manners (There are such things you know, but I can’t get my kids to sleep most nights so I feel breastfeeding manners are beyond in the realm of possibility). Yet somehow people always think it’s the teeth that makes breastfeeding an older baby/toddler challenging. I’ve never been bitten but I sure was  sucker punched the other day.

Pippa won her first metal this past weekend competing in the Riverfest Baby Races, where she out crawled another baby who flat out refused to crawl at all in the 6-9 month category. Somehow given her recent breastfeeding acrobatics including arching her back in little backbends and contorting her body into a pretzel all while nursing, I suspect this is only one of many metals to come, the rest likely in gymnastics.

Anyone else have amazingly acrobatic little ones or future karate champs on their hands breasts?

Nothing tastes better than 1st Place!!!

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Some days I just want my boobs back…

Breastfeeding symbol

Breastfeeding symbol (Photo credit: Topinambour)

Yup I said it. And if you found this post through some search of the word boob and for desires reasons other than reading my whining complaints about breastfeeding, you’re not going to find what you’re looking for here. And if you do, yuck. I have a serious case of formula envy. Who knew there was such a thing, but I’ve got it bad. If you’re thinking it’s because I’m some kind of lush, it has nothing to do with alcohol, and I’m not. In fact, I rarely drink at all or rarely did drink, since I can’t currently and haven’t for YEARS. Though interestingly I can tell you the last drink I had was the last weekend in June of 2009, because I was kinda sorta purposely not drinking that drink because I thought I might be pregnant but hadn’t had time to take the test yet and I didn’t want to raise any red flags by saying no to having a drink during girls weekend (Don’t get me started on how I haven’t had a girls weekend since). Then I was pregnant, and breastfeeding and then when I stopped breastfeeding it was only because I was pregnant again and my milk supply gave out. So now its been almost 3 years since I’ve had a drink, really at this point why go back. Ummm because I still crave a glass of white wine, man if I crave it and don’t even drink that much I can’t imagine what it must be like for those that do. But enough on that tangent, this post is not about alcohol, it’s about my boobs and how I want them back. This is strange since I generally don’t even really like them, they’re kinda on the smallish side when not breastfeeding and nothing overly spectacular, in my opinion. At this point though they simply represent a certain freedom, one that I greatly long for.

There are so many wonderful things about breastfeeding, briefly to name a few, protection against diseases, enormous nutritional benefits, cost savings (hey formulas expensive), special bonding, possibly reduces your risk of certain cancers, etc. etc. Heck looking at it that way it’s practically life saving. What all the brochures don’t tell you is that sometimes it downright SUCKS, no pun intended. You either have to be near your baby on a pretty stinking regular basis or pump regularly enough to maintain some sort of supply of milk for any occasions away from your little bambino. Really, anyone who thinks pumping is convenient, clearly doesn’t do it or not often enough, because I find little joy into having to attach plastic suction cups to the ladies while this annoying humming machine makes weird sounds while it tries to extract milk from my body. At no point in my life did I expect to have something in common with a cow. So now I have formula envy, because it would be so nice to hand Pippa off to her grandparents or a babysitter and get away for a day or a night and not have to worry about having enough milk for her or having to find somewhere to pump and store the milk. But I’m trapped by this tiny little person who makes my heart sing and who I adore but just can’t get away from for quite long enough. So while I in no way would change my choice and don’t get me wrong it even saddens me a little she will be six (6) months old this week and starting on other types of nourishment, I just wish that those breastfeeding pamphlets would be a little more honest with people, maybe I’ll start writing my own…


Breastfeeding; Why it Pays to be a Cow!


Think Menstruation Cramps are Bad try Mastitis


Engorgement? It’s not for the faint at heart!!!


I think I should keep my day job…