Nursing

Nursing babies is a weird thing. You see someone else doing it and you feel shy and all "avert the eyes-ish." You engage in the act yourself and pretty soon reaching down your shirt to release your double D (active A? bountiful B?) is as commonplace as reaching into your pocket for a tissue. Now, I'll admit that I never pictured myself a breastfeeding type of girl but as it turns out I am. In fact, Grayson was nursed so long that I received a certificate of achievement from my bras & La Leche League. I'm only kidding but wouldn't that be a great recruiting tactic? What I DID receive were a few sideways glances from close friends who knew damn well he could pretty much walk himself to the fridge for a Capri Sun and be done with it (all truth be told, he was a little over 12 months). Was I one of those freak moms who wanted to keep her baby at the boob long after the child could practically call in for a curbside Bloomin' Onion? Was I afraid his auto-immune system would spontaneously shut down upon the cessation of me lactating? Maybe I was addicted to the alone time we shared together in a quiet place where nobody wanted or felt comfortable to interrupt. Whatever the case, I don't regret our time at the till and the many stretchy tank tops I 'outgrew.'

Sadly, I hardly remember Grayson as a newborn because little "Lillabeth" has taken up every working neuron worth a shit in my brain as of late but when I conjure up those really good moments with him, I remember him peacefully drifting off to sleep while nursing when sleep simply did not come naturally for at least a year. I also remember his wide grins after taking in a long swig of his daily drink and remember how satisfying it was for me to know he got a nice warm meal full of antibodies and other good stuff I can't pronounce from me, the mom. Sure, the downsides were awful. Who wants to send their pediatrician 15 separate jpegs of their babies' mouth b/c you can't believe all the white dots inside there are "just milk spots?" (They weren't, it was thrush) Who enjoys those bonus flu-like symptoms that come with the prize of a mastitis infection otherwise known as hellfire in your tatas?? I can happily report that a healthy and super chunko baby outweighed any negatives the first time around and in retrospect I feel proud we made it as long as we did.

I feel the same way now that I'm nursing Miss Abby Cakes. As to be expected, she is a different eater altogether. She is enthusiastic and passionate whereas Grayson was loud and voracious, she is merry and chatty where Grayson was private and introspective. Abby kneads my chest like a kitten while Grayson drummed down rhythmically with his tiny baby fists. Abby enjoys her time at the 24 hour milk diner just as much as her brother did and I will admit that I stare at her face and contemplate her hair color more than anything else in my day. This could make me one of those crazy moms who has lost herself completely in motherhood but I don't consider myself lost (crazy? yes.). I am in love neutral, learning who she from the moment she calls out (she goes from sound asleep to a three alarm fire drill in seconds) for food to those sweet long sighs and slow blinks once she has had her fill. Breastfeeding is weird but it's also wonderful for some women and besides, when else will you have 6-8 possible 15 minute clusters to deliberate over your newborn's hair color? In case you were wondering, Abby's is that see-thru baby strawberry brown. In my opinion, a noncommittal red.