There will be topics which have high frequency. This is one of those topics. Breasts. To be honest, I still giggle like my teenage students - whom of which turn a constitutional lesson into a chuckle fest when I ask, "what are some duties of the executive branch?" - when I hear certain words. Obviously, breast is one of them. So, it is my personal goal to be: relatable, but not raunchy; informative without being ignorant and insensitive; scholarly minus the sexuality; avoiding the egregious...sorry, I'll stop with the adjective alliterations.
This whole breastfeeding experience has been very eyeopening. I have a fond appreciation for KJo's breasts, but now the pair of breasts I've known for four and a half years are the life source for Kaylani and Bernard David. My respect for hers is bordering on worship. I won't get into the details of my idolatry for two reasons: first, what occurs behind closed doors is between me and my...ahem, KJo's breasts; second, discussing belief systems and practices is a great way to lose friends.
In Postpartum, we were told that with Kaylani Lynne and Bernard David being born pre-term (34 weeks exactly), milk had not fully developed and to pump anyway to train the body. The first few pumpings, nothing. Despite what the nurses said, we both expected to see something. Concluding a pumping session with nothing made us feel, empty. Neither one of us said it; however, it was the elephant in the room: breast-milk is the universally assumed sign of motherhood. A women is suppose to produce milk for the nourishment of her offspring. If that said woman cannot...
Yeah, that's where our minds were headed and honestly, that is not the mental space parents should be in. I compare our plight for breast-milk to Hook with Robin Williams. In the movie, Peter Pan grew up. He left Neverland, he changed his name (Perer Banning), started a family, and forgot how to fly. It wasn't until Thud Butt explained to him what it takes to fly.
Thud Butt: Peter, can I talk to you?
Peter Pan: Sure, Thud.
Thud Butt: I remember Tootles.
Peter Pan: You do?
Thud Butt: He was lost too.
Peter Pan: How could you know Tootles?
Thud Butt: He was a Lost Boy.
[Thud Butt takes out a small pouch]
Thud Butt: These are his marbles. These are his happy thoughts.
[Peter empties out the pouch of marbles into his hand and laughs]
Peter Pan: He really did lose his marbles, didn't he?
Thud Butt: [laughs] Yeah, he lost them good.
[they both laugh]
Thud Butt: Peter, you know what?
Peter Pan: What?
Thud Butt: My happy thought will help you.
Peter Pan: What's your happy thought, Thud?
Thud Butt: Mine's my mother. Do you remember your mother,
Peter?Peter Pan: Wish I could.
Thud Butt: Peter, can I talk to you?
Peter Pan: Sure, Thud.
Thud Butt: I remember Tootles.
Peter Pan: You do?
Thud Butt: He was lost too.
Peter Pan: How could you know Tootles?
Thud Butt: He was a Lost Boy.
[Thud Butt takes out a small pouch]
Thud Butt: These are his marbles. These are his happy thoughts.
[Peter empties out the pouch of marbles into his hand and laughs]
Peter Pan: He really did lose his marbles, didn't he?
Thud Butt: [laughs] Yeah, he lost them good.
[they both laugh]
Thud Butt: Peter, you know what?
Peter Pan: What?
Thud Butt: My happy thought will help you.
Peter Pan: What's your happy thought, Thud?
Thud Butt: Mine's my mother. Do you remember your mother,
Peter?Peter Pan: Wish I could.
Eventually, Peter Pan is able to fly because his “happy thought” was when he became a father; his “happy thought” was his son Jack. “Happy thoughts”...what a concept! Kaylani and Bernard, the look on their faces when we made eye contact the first time I held them, will always be my "happy thought". I guess I'm like Peter Banning in a way. His “happy thoughts” allowed him to fly. It was my “happy thoughts” that got the milk really flowing. Our first batch of measurable colostrum (roughly 8 mL total) came less than 48 hours after birth. Then, less than three hours later we saw a 15 mL increase per breast. I was so excited and cautious at the same time. I know every mother has to experience the heartbreak of having their hard earned pumping wasted on the floor. I didn't want the milk to be on my hands. I went three days without an incident. Then came Thursday, July 26, 2012, which happens to be KJo's birthday. She just pumped 55 mL from Ms. Right Breast for Kaylani and Bernard's noon feeding. I even safeguarded against spillage during transit with the yellow screw-on Medela caps. In NICU, I placed the bottle on the counter, took the Medela caps off and...
Those 55 mL were two feedings worth and our attempt at being ahead of Kaylani and Bernard's feeding schedule. Our efforts were ruined. It was bound to happen eventually. I'm so glad it didn't happen to me. One of the intern nurses, in her attempt to transfer from the pumping bottle to a feeding bottle, knocked it over. The three nurses tried to remain calm, but we both knew it happened. They didn't realize we saw it from beginning to end. It took them 65 seconds to tell us. Our reaction: stoic. The proverb "you can't cry over spilled milk" couldn't have been more accurate. I was upset, I can only imagine how KJo felt. She didn't show it though. What would going off on an intern do: Make her cry? Most likely. Set an example that the Murrays are not to be messed with when it comes to their milk? Maybe. Make KJo feel better? I doubt it. Let's assume the first two hold true, then we've got an emotional, unexperienced nurse handling our babies the rest of her shift. That would not give KJo peace of mind. Doing the unexpected is, unexpected. It's not the loud, obnoxious people you should worry about. It's those calm, quiet ones to watch out for. We were calm, quiet, and as teachers we tried to make her blunder a positive learning experience.
Now, there's even more pressure to produce. KJo's only duty *chuckle* consists of pumping. No time for sleeping, no time for stage fright. It's go time! Like clock-work, every three hours - 12, 3, 6, and 9 - we're pumping. I say we because this is a team effort. Plus if I don't get involved, I'll feel useless. It would be nice if I could produce milk, but unfortunately I cannot. So I assist in the milk-gathering process to feel like I contributed. There are men who would consider themselves to be "breast-men." I laugh at their chauvinism, arrogance, and self-appointed title. As for me: I'm knowledgable and informed about KJo's shield size. I assist in the assembly and breakdown of the Medela Pump In Style Breast Pump. I'm responsible for sterilization of bottles and pumping equipment. I label and store up to eight tubes of fresh milk daily. I've safely transported several hundred mLs of cargo. I'm proficient in how to use Lily Padz. If this sounds like qualities you'd find on a résumé, it should.
Hello, my name is Bernard Murray and I am a lactation guru.
6 comments:
You're awesome, Bernard. You put many men to shame. :)
Very well said. I see a book in the making!
Love,
DeeDee
Wow - you are amazing!
Wonderful,fun and informative! I am (as our whole family is) thankful KJo has you as her husband, fan, and best supporter!
Mia
It's crazy, isn't it! A woman's body ceases to be her own and becomes a milk production machine and yet, at the same time developing a bond with the baby we can never understand (which is very un-machine like). But if things go wrong the baby's (in your case babies')life (lives) depend(s) on it! What's worse is how anxiety can have a negative effect on milk production and as first time parents your anxiety is already through the roof because THEIR LIVES DEPEND ON IT! Add a hyperactive lactation consultant at our hospital (no...not me...she really was hyper) and our first baby experience was a little like driving down a one way street with traffic ahead.
The second child was much easier and we made sure the same hyperactive lactation consultant knew we were already pros. I guess you won't have that advantage with #2 since they are both here!
However, a guru?...grasshopper, a guru walks a thousand miles to find he is not, and only then he is. When you produce your own milk, then I think you can earn the guru tag (^_^). There are pills for that I think...not that I would know.
And yes, I share your appreciation for brexxxx xxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxx x x xxx x xxxx x xxxxxxxxxx. (I simply was getting myself in too much trouble with the rest of this paragraph. It's just that funny and breasts have so much in common but I didn't want to come off as an insensitive male who misses his toys...not that I would...but it was).
In all the crazy remember: it's all gift.
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