Now that I have over a year's worth of combined milk production time, between both boys, I feel like I'm something of a lactation specialist. So let me share what I've learned with you, the sort of things that I did not read in the La Leche League manual:
1. The Eating/Milk Connection
You are what you eat. Thus, your milk is what you eat, and since your baby has your milk, your baby is also what you eat, and your baby's poop might smell like your dinner. You've probably heard all about eating beans and giving your baby gas, or the spicy food/fuss connection, neither of which seem to have had any effect on my nurslings. But what you eat does get into your milk, and into your baby. Even if what you eat is a chewy gob of high fructose corn syrup.
The day after Halloween, I was sitting on the floor, playing with Jonas. Something smelled sweet. Like candy. It seemed to be coming from Jonas' rear. Had Axel shoved some of his candy down his brother's diaper to save it for later? Did Jonas decide to do some late night Trick-or-Treating of his own? I opened up the diaper to check and, instead of finding a shiny yellow plastic package, I found mushy yellow poo.
Poo that smelled exactly like Swedish Fish.
Exactly like the Swedish Fish I'd gobbled up the night before. The Swedish Fish that went from my mouth to my stomach to my milk to my baby to his poop.
Yeah, it was both creepy and delightful. If you've got to change a poopy diaper, it's a little easier if the air is filled with the scent of gummy red candy.
Though I have eaten beets, they did not turn my milk red, as I'd heard they would - that one seems to be an urban lactation legend. But I have experienced firsthand the interaction between candy and breastmilk. I think I might make Swedish Fish a regular part of my lactating mother's diet, right along with the prenatal vitamins and organic apples.
2. The Milk Production Excuse
Nursing is much better than homework-eating dogs. I wish I'd discovered this earlier. A telemarketer calls, and I say, "I'm sorry, I've got to go. I'm making dinner for my son." There's no protesting, no "Please, just give me one minute to tell you about the super terrific Blasto Vac."
It could be any time of day, and this would be true. The thing about breastfeeding is that you're always making your baby's next meal. Therefore, you've always got an excuse about why you need to hang up the phone. I think I'm going to keep on using this one for the next dozen years. People don't seem to question baby-related excuses, especially when you throw in a word that makes many people uncomfortable, like breast.
3. Milk expression will occur in the strangest places.
When Axel was tiny, I tried to confine nursing and pumping to private, calm spots. I avoided being out of the house when I thought he might get hungry. I tried to pump behind closed doors in my office, further barricaded behind a nursing cover and a wall of bags, because the blinds on my office windows are wimpy. I told myself that I would make sure I didn't have to nurse in public, not because I was against public nursing but because of my own discomfort. Well, life, as they say, happens. Eventually, I had to nurse him on a plane, in a (parked) car, in a house, with a mouse - our own Green Eggs & Ham lactation adventure.
With Jonas, I started out having to be a more public nurser. Axel needed to get out of the house, and I needed to take him and take the constantly hungry baby, too. While I try to be discreet and remain draped in a nursing cover, I've found that I've gotten surprisingly used to potential exposure in public. Now I've pumped in the jury commisionner's office (lactating isn't quite a good enough excuse to get out of jury duty), in my car, and in various office building bathrooms. Baby's got to eat, so a mama has to get creative.
Jonas is earnestly training for a staring role as Baby Zombie King in the next George Romero flick, drooling heavily and gnawing on his knuckles with as much ferocity as can be mustered when you weigh less than the cat. Time for another milk feast.
