Wonderboobs

For those of you curious about how feeding is going, I have good news and bad news. The good news is, my boobs work! Micah is feeding and everything is flowing well. The bad news is, my boobs work! Micah is FEEDING and everything is overflowing.

Two days after we got home from the hospital, I was about to jump in the shower and was so confused because I was drenched even before I got in. And then I realized that I was dripping all over the place. All OVER the place! Evidently becoming the equivalent of a human lawn sprinkler is an added bonus to motherhood. My God, there was just so much milk - I could open my own chapter of La Leche League right out of our house. I can thank genetics for that: we’re a milky bunch of gals in the family, which I hear is a good thing. Mom says she used to literally squirt out everywhere, and Erinn’s advice for me was two simple words: beach towels. Cover the entire house with them and drip away.

Breastfeeding is one of those wonders of biology that can really blow your mind if you stop and think about it. Your body mixes up a special cocktail of healthy yumyums just for Baby, and runs on a microeconomy of supply and demand: if Micah demands it, I supply it. Period. And this happens whether or not I want it to. The boobs are on overdrive, so I’m just trying my best to keep up. I have never felt more like a mammal. It is incredibly humbling, and way harder than you’d think it would be. Insert boob in mouth, commence sucking. Right? Snort.

Breastfeeding is all the proof we need that God is a man, because no woman would ever wish this kind of pain on one of her own. Pain before, during and after the feedings. Maybe pain’s not the right word. More just a constant discomfort, like I have two giant bruises on my chest (bruibs?) that get re-injured before they’re healed. The engorgement (I hate that word) is the worst. So uncomfortable, and if Micah’s not ready to eat just yet, I keep thinking my Hindenboobs are going to spring a leak and flood the earth with milk. The slightest nudge could set these ticking time bombs off. A fellow mom and I were talking about this at a BBQ a few weeks ago, and someone asked us if it’s like when you have to pee really bad, “really really bad”, and can’t find a bathroom. Hmm, yeah. It’s just like that! Minus the pee pee dance and about eighty notches up on the pain scale when someone wakes up hungry from a nap in attack mode like he just crossed the Sahara.

But I’m glad that Micah is taking to it so well. And there’s something very empowering about being able to feed him successfully. The fact that he is growing on what I’m providing alone is so cool and weird at the same time. And boy is he growing. It almost makes wearing the nursing bras that look like boob straightjackets worth it.