Hold up the "Breastfeeds"

By Jennifer Faure

When my second baby Sarah was born, my older daughter Chloe had just turned 3. As most 3 year olds are, Chloe is extremely observant. She imitated everything that I did with the baby.

For weeks, I'd go into the dining room and find her laying on the table. She would announce that it was time for me to call the "hospital womans" because she was ready "to have the baby cut out of her tummy." I don't think she knew that the baby had been born via cesarean section, but cutting the baby out was the only way that she could fathom a baby getting out of its mommy's tummy. "Don't worry about me mama," she'd say, "I'm very brave and I'll be just fine." Ultimately, the "hospital woman" would produce two lovely children that Chloe had birthed: a son and daughter (a stuffed monkey named "George Curious" and a cloth doll named "Maggie").

Once born, she would ask me what she needed to do to take care of her new babies. I would tell her that she needed to hold them, feed them, change their diapers and love them. I provided her with baby bottles, but she told me that her babies were going to be "breastfeeder babies." I told her that this was great because it would help to keep the babies from getting sick.

One weekend, Chloe persuaded my husband to take her to a nearby department store. My husband obliged thinking that it would entertain her and give me some time to myself since the baby was sleeping. The department store was packed with people because of a big sale that was going on. Once in the store, my daughter steered my husband back to the bra department and announced to the crowd: "Everybody - my daddy is going to buy me one of those things to hold up my big breastfeeds!" The crowd roared and my husband returned home with his face beet red up to the roots of his hair. Chloe failed to see what was so funny.

Sarah is 5 months old now and Chloe still offers to breastfeed her for me. What a wonderful big sister...