milk face

Yesterday was a big day for Sebastian as he ate his first non-milk meal. He had been miming chewing for a while, trying to grab our food off our plates, and his first two teeth just arrived (I found the second one broken through this morning!) so he was bound for some solid food any day now. I had been holding off because I wasn't sure what to feed him first. I didn't want to feed him store-bought baby ceral because I don't want his young eating experiences to involve preservatives if we can avoid it (which we always can). Yesterday as Alex and I were sitting down to a plate of homemade bbq scrambled tofu, potatoes and avacado I decided Sebastian should join us. So I threw a tiny pot of white rice onto the stove, whipped out my breast pump and blended the concoction together. We sat him in his little high chair, gave him a big wooden spoon and let him go at it. There were some "a.ps" as his Grandpa Bob calls them-- almost pukes-- but I think he enjoyed himself. I had been aware that this day would be a little emotional for me, and it was. It wasn't sad but just emotional, although less than I'd expected. I guess it seemed like a big milestone, the day he was no longer entirely dependant on my breasts. The day anyone could feed him. I know it's selfish, but hey, it's the truth. I like being that sole provider and I know I'm not alone. But I was happy to see him having this new experience, finally putting something other than table cloths in his mouth while joining us for dinner. And lo and behold, when it was all over and he was cleaned, all he wanted was to nurse. I know our breastfeeding experience will last for a lot longer.
As one relationship evolves and, in a way, ends, others begin. I had two really positive breastfeeding experiences yesterday and it seemed like the universe saying, hey now, you're still needed! In the morning I went to my mama-friend's place for tea and we talked about breastfeeding versus formula. For whatever reason she doesn't produce enough milk for her six-month-old to nurse exclusively so needs to give him a bottle at night, but is trying to up her milk production so she can avoid this. She pulled a can of $16 formula specifically designed for premies (presumably extra cautious and healthy, right?) and pointed out that the second ingredient was CORN SYRUP. "It's going to someone who needs it or in the trash," she said. She headed to the health food store later that day to buy a tea that might help with milk production. I knew she wouldn't find it weird so I offered her some of my milk in the meantime because I can pump a full bottle in about seven minutes and with Sebastian now eating I thought there would be some to spare. Luckily she has a small store in the freezer from past pumping, and is hoping that her tea will help so I won't be a milk bank for now, but she knows she can come to me if she decides it's time.
Later that night Alex and our friend Andy were standing on our patio in -15 when I noticed my neighbour downstairs was outside smoking and I discovered that his baby girl had just been born that week and was freshly home from the hospital. I tip-toed in with him to find his exhausted girlfriend looking defeated next to a tiny little creature. We negotiated through language barriers and I was told that the birth had been very hard, and ended in an unwanted c-section-- an end to what I understood as a very hard pregnancy. As a bottle nipple steralized on the stovetop I carefully ventured, "So are you thinking of breastfeeding?" I learned that she wasn't producing properly and that even the nurses at LaSalle Hospital (where I gave birth as well) had been confused about her lack of milk. The baby was falling asleep at the breast every time she tried. Martin and her looked so defeated and disappointed. "We both wanted her to breastfeed," Martin told me. "But..."
"But you can still try!" I said, trying not to get too involved or passionate lest I scare them off or accentuate their disappointment. I mean, she might not actually be able to breastfeed. He said, "Yes, we'll try maybe once a day..." I explained to them that her milk supply would only diminish more if she fed the baby once a day. I asked them about breast pumping and they said they couldn't afford to invest in a $200 electric one and pointed at this dinky little thing they had picked up somewhere.
So I offered them mine, which is apparently the best kind on the market for hand-held ones. I ran upstairs and got it, emptied the milk I had pumped for Luce's baby Elouan and Sebastian's food, and brought it back. They were sitting there looking so tired and Martin told me he's been working 16 hour days.
"Breastfeeding seems like some big secret," he told me. "We just feel like we're in the dark about it."
I sympathized; even though I have a "militant breastfeeder" as a mother (my father's words) and attended CLSC prenatal courses which focused a lot on breastfeeding, I still wasn't prepared for those first few days of excrutiatingly sore, bleeding nipples and constant constant constant feedings.
I felt like I could have stood there talking about breastfeeding for an hour if there hadn't been such a language barrier and if it wasn't their first day back from the hospital. I pried myself way. But before I left, I turned to say goodbye to the little creature in her chair on the floor and I said, "I forgot! What's her name?!" and the couple glanced at each other sheepishly and said, "Well, it's your name."
!!!

before

during

after-- tired and messy!