Week 5: The Taste of Breast Milk

No, I have not taken the time to sample my own breastmilk, and I can't really tell you what it tastes like, despite the fact that Desmond has projectile vomited into my mouth. (If you want an answer, though, keep reading.)  I am not one of those poor women stopped by the TSA and forced to drink the baby's only food source, nor am I one of those people who rushed to the chance to try Breast Milk Ice Cream.  My dairy products, as strange as it is when you really take the time to think about it, will continue to come from the cow.

Breast feeding is HARD WORK. If you have done it, I commend you. If you haven't and you plan to, I am not trying to discourage you, (do it! Its the best thing for you and your baby and I am six weeks post-postpartum and I haven't been this skinny since I don't know when. I have to buy new pants as none of my old clothes fit!) but there is a reality to the whole mess:

1. There will be a teacup sized human latched onto your body for hours everyday and well into the wee hours of the morning.  The word "latched" makes me think of this.

2. Breast pumps are medieval torture devices. They are loud, they can be uncomfortable and if I wasn't spending so much time with the babe stuck to my boob I might be one of those enterprising mommy-tycoons that reinvents this for the good of humanity. 

3. Everyone can choose when to wean their kids.  In my mind, when Desmond is old enough to walk over to me and request a boob using multiple words to express his desire he should be cut off.  I'm talking to you, lady at the DMV who was unable to fill out your paperwork because your kindergartner was attached to you by the face.

4. Props to the La Leche League for championing and promoting breast feeding; However when you live in a conservative backwater as I do there are plenty of people who will give you the stinkeye as you try to discreetly feed the baby anywhere outside your own home. The thought of a BREAST or a NIPPLE potentially exposed in PUBLIC! My God, won't someone think of the children!

Which brings me here:  While at a cookout at a friends home this weekend I excused myself to discreetly feed Desmond on a porch swing and was shortly surrounded and kept company by a bunch of ladies who are all moms and who had also breastfed in their day. They gave me tips, encouragement and told me how they all coped being home with their newborn children. 

One close friend told me that her son (who is now my age) nursed well into his second year.  When asked by another child who either was not breast-fed or was too small to remember, "what does it taste like?" my pre-school aged friend responded after a thoughtful pause, "It tastes like sugar and rainbows!"