The Milk Man Cometh


“When you’re nursing, you’re still just a little bit pregnant.”

Big sisters are full of sage words like this.

I don’t bring this up out of resentment or exasperation, it’s just true. I may not have another human being bedding down for the night on my inferior vena cava anymore, but my body is still not my own. Instead of asking, “Hmmm, when was your last bottle? I’d hate to wake you if your not hungry,” I think, “Wake up! Wake up! You must eat or mommy’s gonna bust!”

It’s mother nature’s way of making darn sure you don’t ever forget to feed your baby.

Yes, nothing can prepare you for that 3rd day postpartum when “The Milk Man Cometh.” Mother nature, in her mercy, gives you a couple of days to recuperate from the rigors of childbirth, and then one morning you wake up and, dum da dum DUM!! A new kind of labor begins. And you think: I don’t remember covering this little episode in that childbirth class we took! No one told us that new parents should wear a snorkel and mask when we went to bed!! And I didn’t order this much milk! She’s this big! How much milk can she possibly drink?!

But by and by the milk orders all get worked out and soon you and baby get into a feeding rhythm, one that demands you sit down and rest for at least 20 minutes every few hours of everyday (and night). Feet up. I kinda like this rhythm. We got to watch “The Royal Wedding.” Live. And we watched all four hours of “Gone With the Wind” in 25 minute increments all last week. (Now I keep wanting to say stuff like, “Fiddley dee.”)

I guess you could say we’re watching a lot of movies these days while we nurse. But I avoid TV. I’m too afraid of being caught unawares by a baby crying on the television, or worse: a milk commercial. Nothing that’s going to set off that trip wire that opens up the floodgates! Got Milk?

Oh, honey. You have no idea!!

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