Lactation Nation

If you had told me 10 months ago that I’d be breastfeeding my baby, and not only breastfeeding, but have an abundant supply of milk so great I could feed two babies simultaneously, and that my newborn would be the fastest eater the lactation consultant who visited yesterday has ever seen (we’re talking 15 minutes and done), and that to calm my child down I’d resort to baby wearing, I’d have thought you were as crazy as the lady next to me in Starbucks today who is still nursing her three year old.

I even walked into my nemesis baby store today. The one where they have breastfeeding mannequins in the window and the clientele make you feel all types of intimidated if you don’t use 1000% organic cotton plus BPA-free never would be caught dead in Pampers. You know the type.

I’m so not that type.

I’m so that type.  

But, hello, two and a half weeks into this newborn #2 thing and I’ve been transformed. Not judgmental or anything, but one that happily paid a pretty penny to the lactation consultant yesterday only for her to tell me that my kid is great at nursing. And fast. (Did I already mention that? I guess I’m a proud mama. I see a a Coney Island hot dog eating contest in his near future.)

I even invited a friend over to join me in the lactation consultant appointment. Not only did it cut down the cost, but nothing says a fun afternoon like a milky booby party. (Btw if you are in Chicago and need a good lact consultant this lady was the bomb and like didn’t chew me out for skipping a night feeding so I can get a little more sleep.)

Not to mention I madly scour labels to make sure they’re green and have even given up eating tuna and Diet Coke for the time being while the little man is getting my milk. I’m one step away from cloth diapering. Okay, not quite, but you get the gist.

For those who know me, this is a bit of a change in personality. With my first, I said, “let him eat cake!” Well, not quite, but I didn’t exactly turn away the formula samples in the hospital. Anything to get me sleep and a crying baby out of my hair. I showered him with plenty of love, but as I cleaned off and unpacked, also plenty of chemicals, Enfamil and scented wipes. (I have NOT forgotten how badly formula poops smell as compared to breastmilky poops.)

But now, I’m embracing what nature gave me. I’m proudly the milking cow who has helped #2 put on a half a pound since Friday. I’m telling you, the kid can eat. Along with his full belly, my mood and waistline are definitely thanking me.  I don’t chalk it up to being won over by the Green Powers That Be as much as having more confidence the second time around. The crying over ever diaper change, the counting of ounces just don’t bother me as much anymore.

It doesn’t mean that I’m not buying up leather goods in abundance (I must divulge my patent leather boot story in my next post), or that I’m ready to do away with essential foods (i.e., Swedish Fish), but that I’m trying my best to stick to the basics. And so far it seems to be working for both of us.