"Squirts"
"Squirts"
by Denise Pena  My
unforgettable
breastfeeding experience began one day when my daughter was about five months old and I
would go to her daycare on my lunch break to nurse her. The daycare is located in downtown
so a lot of moms would come in and do the same. There were chairs and a couch set aside
for a comfortable place for moms to nurse.The lunch hour started as any other and the "usual" moms were there. On that particular day, there was a mother and her daughter sitting on the couch and another mother sitting on a chair. I went and sat down on the couch, which was more of a loveseat. I placed Draven in the cradle position and she was going to nurse from the right breast. To the right of us was the other mother-daughter duo, and the baby was nursing from her mother's left breast. Draven was having a difficult time latching on and I was not letting down. I went to manually express some milk as Draven was squirming a lot, and at that point my milk let down, and to my horror, I saw a perfect stream of milk go flying in slow motion and right into the other baby's eye! The baby was very surprised and the mother had been looking the other way, so she didn't see her daughter get a shot of breast milk in her eye. The baby started coughing and you could tell she was in shock. I just sat there...the mother saw the milk on her baby's face and then looked at me with a confused look on her face. I don't know why, but the words that flew out of my mouth next were, "It wasn't me!". I bowed my head in guilt and did confess and the other mother laughed it off and commented on what close quarters we were in. I began to feel a little relief and threw out the idea that this kind of thing must happen. Everybody shook their head "no". The next day as I was dropping Draven off at daycare I saw the victim of my breastmilk and her father. I didn't really think much of the events from the day before, until I was greeted by the baby's father. "Goodmorning, squirts!" is what I got and my face immediately turned a plum color of embarrassment. I was continued to be called squirts by him for the next few months, but we would laugh about it every time. Denise Pena Portland, OR |
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