Friday, August 20, 2010

Lactation Locations: The Garden Highway

The second biggest mistake of my life, after law school, was getting so tired in our housing search that we opted into square footage over walkability. This led us to our current abode in a perfectly nice but totally isolated neighborhood. You can sort of walk to a chain Mexican restaurant which we did one day when my daughter was about 2 and a half months old.

Note, this story takes place before I mastered my Moby.

We timed our outing, we thought, to coincide with baby's nap time. We strapped her into her stroller and set out. I'll gloss over the parts where she woke up and fussed and had to be hand-carried (no small feat before baby has good head and back control and is basically a loosy, floppy 60s protester going limb so the cops can't easily arrest her). She slept through lunch and started to wake as we paid the bill.

Feed her there? Try to make it home? Feed her there? Try to make it home?

Oh, let's try to make it home. BIG MISTAKE.
The wailing began almost immediately.  My kid has some lungs on her and even if she were objectively quiet, y'all know there's NO SOUND LOUDER than your own infant's cries. 

We were FAR away from home. She's fussing. She won't stop fussing just being held. So what can I do?

I clamp her flat on my arm, lift up my shirt, and walk along the highway breastfeeding my kid while trying to clutch a flapping muslin blanket over my front for a smidge of privacy. Super effective.

It worked for a few minutes, a few hundred yards, but wasn't really tenable long-term.

It was an excruciatingly long walk home under a hot sun. Turns out her diaper was dirty. Who would've thought to check that? No us! Because we're brilliant like that.

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