a memory

A little over four years ago the Sergeant and I met our sweet little niece for the first time. We lived in California when she was born and didn't move back to Michigan until she was about two and a half months old. This was just before we started the seemingly endless (and seemingly hopeless) task of trying to have a baby, and I was smitten by the little one. I think the Sergeant was, too.

On the drive home we were chatting about babies (well, I was chatting, the Sergeant was mostly listening, adding his two cents every now and then...) and I mentioned something about breastfeeding.

The Sergeant got very quiet, opened his mouth to speak a few times, and finally said, in a very careful tone, "Are you going to be able to breastfeed?"

I was confused. "Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

Even more carefully this time, "Well...you're not...very...big."*

I sputtered a bit, then burst into laughter.

Finally I calmed down enough to explain to him that "size doesn't matter," that "I'm not producing milk now, but I'll make plenty of milk if we have a baby," and "I'll get bigger then."

The Sergeant was a little embarrassed and worried that he'd insulted me, which I assured him he hadn't. And then I laughed some more, because it really was funny.**


That story always makes me laugh. But something reminded me of it yesterday, and I laughed, and then I realized that I was wrong. I didn't make plenty of milk. I know it has nothing to do with my breast size, just some strangeness that made me unable to nurse for longer than three months. But still...without knowing it, in a sideways sort of way, I guess the Sergeant was right.

I don't feel guilty about not nursing anymore. I did for a long time, (when I wrote this post a month ago I was still feeling guilty) but looking at the Little Mister's bright eyes and smiling face I know I did the right thing when I gave him formula. I still feel a little sad sometimes, but I think that's normal, and okay. And when I see the excitement all over his chubby little face when I feed him plums or avocado, I know I don't have to worry about food anymore.


*He was not being rude, nor was he exaggerating. Pre-pregnancy I was quite small. "Nearly A." Since the Little Mister I'm a slightly happier "B." Happier not because of bigger breasts, I don't care a scrap about that. Happier because bra shopping is a lot easier when you're looking for size B instead of size "nearly A." :)

**To my dear, sweet Sergeant: I'm not making fun of you. Really. To me it was a silly question because I'd spent quite a bit of time with pregnant women and nursing mothers. Plus, being a woman, I knew a bit about how my body works, at least in theory. To you it was a serious question, because you don't go out of your way to have deep question-and-answer periods about breastfeeding. Well, you didn't until I got pregnant, anyway. :) I love you...