Voting
by Jessica Dion Good Citizenship Starts Young I have a 10 week old baby boy, my first. We had a rocky start: my milk took five days to come in, he was starving, he had latch problems, I was sore for weeks, but thank goodness I'm stubborn and had good support from visiting nurses and the lactation consultant at our pediatrician's office. After week 4, everything clicked and we've been breastfeeding without a hitch ever since. The cluster feeding in the evening that used to exhaust me now calms me - it's our time together to snack and stare into each other's eyes. I used to be afraid that I had no more milk when he fed every 30 minutes, but now I can hear him swallowing and I know he's found another stash somewhere in there...he could suck milk out of a rock, I think. I know I can stop his grumping within seconds anytime, anywhere and that's a great feeling.  Elliott is a real snacker. Those people who say things like "my baby has
6 feedings a day..." make me laugh. I can't count how many times he eats, because I lose track. I used to get frustrated, but now it seems more like a dance throughout the day and night. I can tell how hungry he is by how full I am. There is a natural rhythm to our activities. Still, this snacking habit makes nursing in public a necessity, since he never goes longer than an hour without wanting a nip, unless he's sleeping. I remember going with my mom to vote when I was five, and I was excited to start that tradition with my son, even though I knew he wouldn't remember this time around. The day came to vote. I had nothing else to do all day, so I carefully planned to go to the polls at just the right time. I nursed him well, changed him, snuggled him in the car seat, and drove 5 minutes to our local school to vote. He was all smiles going in, and I thought it would be a breeze. color in the little circles with one hand, hold the baby with the other. We made it into a little booth and drew the curtain. I had a few last minute decisions to make and there was a referendum I had to read carefully. Well, he did not like that booth one bit. For reasons which will forever remain mysterious, he started fussing and finally broke into a full wail. I tried bouncing him and talking softly to him about how we had to be quiet, but he was not buying it. Finally, I realized he was doing "the hungry dance" - grasping at my shirt, smacking his lips, mouthing his fists and my shoulder, and banging his head. Now I know what those curtains are for! Without a second thought, I popped him on my breast and he quieted right down, snacking away. I was able to hold him there with one hand and finish voting with the other. When I was done, I reassembled myself, and emerged from the booth with a happy, fed baby. I couldn't help but grin - our little secret. What a perfect relationship. I wondered if the woman monitoring the booths knew why he quieted down, but she just gave us a smile as we walked by with the ballot. |
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