Go milk yourself! Possibly an insult to anyone other than a lactating female—there is a great relief associated with emptying an engorged breast. Baby E has finally gotten a handle on the firehose-like nature of my let-down reflex. Though, rather than bigger gulps as her sister did, she pops off my breast to take a break which has led to many a milk shower for her and anyone nearby.
I feel more secure with a freezer full of breastmilk, and I tend toward a compulsion of replacing bags thawed for bottle feeding. There's a certain udder pride with production of a full bottle (or more) of milk. It pains me to waste my milk. I winced when I had to pour "expired" breastmilk down the drain t'other day. Once, when F was ~10 months, I almost started sobbing in the airport as a gentleman told me I couldn't take the milk I'd pumped all weekend onto the plane. I was saved the tearful scene, as a Papa himself he understood and found a way to make it work, I reached home with milk in hand. Making milk is hard work! It is indeed a superpower of sorts. All the energy into making milk that sustains and nourishes a new person, it's amazing. Magically the babyweight disappears and I begin to feel more and more like myself.
This baby girl burps herself. The First Born took some effort to burp, but this new one—if I let her rest a bit before sitting her upright—she'll burp upon reaching a vertical position. She's really more of a belcher, I could hardly call these gaseous pops the typical baby burps. On one occasion she was beside herself with discomfort, I took initiative to frustrate her more with a burping mid-nursing session, she cried-urped-cried-urped until all the gas was gone, then finished her meal with much more comfort. There have been multiple incidents of blubbery flutter-blasts of the breast (a.k.a. rasberries or zerburts) as she has burped while nursing. Both girls have been noisey nursers, imagine the gobbling panting gulping eating noises interspersed with "BLAUT-TWAUT-twuttwuttytwut"—but not the other end as a mama might expect! To which I giggle and she re-latches and keeps right on going.
The Epic of Gilgamilk seems a bit obscure, maybe Mantra of Milk Monster, or "Here's milk in yer eye!" Just call me Wonder Wo-Mom.
