On Saturday at my Dad's house, his neighbor brought her two week old grandson over for a little showing off. I happily took my turn holding his tiny little 8 pound body and cooing over his sweet hair and smell, all the while trying to convince myself that Kate was at some point all squishy and sleepy like he was. I noticed the minute I took him in my arms that he turned his head to the side and started rooting on my arm...he smelled lunch. That prompted me to ask if he was a breast baby. Grandma said that all his momma was able to do was pump about a bottle a day, so that's all the breast milk he got. That's when the tirade began in my head that went something like this:
"Well of course that's all the breast milk she can produce because she's not putting him to the breast! There's no pump in the world that is as efficient as a baby at sucking that milk out of there. Put that baby on your boob every single time he roots for it; he's doing this for a reason! God designed those babies to make you produce the milk they need and he can't do his job of you won't let him!"
I resisted the urge to launch into a breastfeeding monologue and instead smiled, while resisting the urge to take that little guy and just feed him myself.
I've become one of those breastfeeding Nazis. Who knew?