milk machine

There is something about breast feeding that I just can't put my finger on. I am not one of these moms that thinks it is a magical experience and when I am doing it I am one with my baby and Enya plays in the distance.

However; there is something kind of cool and weird about the fact that we, as mammals, actually produce the food that our young need. And after you get past the 24 hours of hot pins'n'needles breasts that have swollen to the size of a good 5 pound cantaloupe a piece & the first week of painful (and I mean painful) nipples that make you dread feeding, it is really not so bad. In fact you don't even think twice about it anymore.

Paul is a great little feeder who can expertly empty a boob in 10 minutes. This week he has grown by leaps and bounds in his feeding techniques and has perfected finding and latching onto the boob with his eyes closed and very little assistance from me. It is pretty cool, easier on me & easier on both of us that he is no longer getting frustrated.

I just wish that someone had made boobs and breastfeeding a little neater. I had to give up on the belief that he would be able to nurse and stay clean. Can you believe it? I actually had to give up on that one. It is just not reality. The reality is when you are nursing milk leaks, it sprays out and all over baby's face, it gets spit up all over baby's clothes and the boob that is not feeding leaks all over. I basically am a constant wet boob, who constantly smells like milk. It makes Julie crazy.

Do you like how I am writing about my breasts now like they are a kitchen utensil or a new bubble bath that I have found. They are no longer objects of any desire. Next to Paul's desire to munch on them. Sorry 'bout that Jamie.