milk machine has feelings too

I am lucky; Maya seems to be a very good eater, despite her constant spitting up my hard-earned breast milk. As of yesterday, she officially surpassed her birth weight which was cause for celebration all around.

I'm not sure if Maya knows I'm her mummy yet, but she has certainly figured out that I am the one with the milk. And milk she loves. Milk she demands. If I'm too slow on the draw, she will wave her ams and kick her legs in protest. And curse at me loudly in baby-ease. Just like her mum, Maya does not like to be made to wait.

When I am finally able to still her punching arms and get her to latch on to my breast, she'll immediately start voraciously hoovering up the milk like a wild animal who has gone all winter with nary a snack. She growl, grunt and gulp while she eats and sometimes she'll suck so very hard that it really does hurt. When she gets like that, I admit it: I am afraid of my baby.

The trick is to get her eating before she gets too frantic. That's not to say that she'll feed calmly, but at least my poor nips have a fighting chance. If she wakes from sleep only to discover a nice milky nipple in front of her, she tends to be a little bit more gentle. A little bit.

Maya also enjoys ripping farts while she eats. The more frantic the feeding fest, the more exuberant the farts. Sometimes she will fart so forcefully that she will shake one leg like a dog who is getting it's belly scratched. And there is always the delicious baby sigh that follows after the fart has been let loose, signifying the sweet relief she is experiencing. Breast milk is gassy and laxative by nature, and my baby is proof of that. Baby girl loves to fart. Her daddy is so proud.

The last step in feeding is the aftermath. Inevitably, after 30-45 minutes on the breast, Maya will usually spit up 30-45 times. I have actually wondered if she keeps any milk in her tummy at all. I don't see how there could be anything left after she's done spitting up. Last night, I fed her in bed and after she was finished, I cuddled her close to me and we enjoyed a sweet moment of mother-daughter bonding. It was pure poetry, her warm breath on my neck while I drank in her sweet smell with eyes closed. And then she farted. And after the fart, she then proceeded to projectile vomit what seemed like at least a half cup of milk all over my face and chest.

I am learning it's all par for the course when it comes to new motherhood. I am here solely to give, serve, dote on and attend to this little girl. And honestly, I love her so much I wouldn't have it any other way.

Ah...I hear the creature stirring now. Milk Machine to the rescue...