Monday, April 06, 2009

Happy Mammaries


Today listening to National Radio as I worked, the subject of breast feeding versus bottles came up. We all have opinions on this especially if you have ever had anything to do with the primary caregiving of a baby. And frankly, if you haven't, then you’d be wise to decline comment; especially in a room full of mothers. I did copious amounts of both nourishment methods for 2 babies and I have no die hard views on which is best unless it concerns the mother who at Playcentre tidy up time always insisted her 3 year old needed a full feed right then and settled down in the bean bag with her homespun jersey up whilst the other preschoolers and care givers ran around putting the blocks and puzzles away. Easy to spot a lazy tart. But the bottle isn’t all about shirking either, as the following addresses…

Happy Mammaries…

If you’ve ever had a baby
You’ll perhaps recall with dread,
Not the hours and hours of labour,
And the crowning of the head.

Or the hemorrhoids and stitches,
Saggy tum and wobbly rump,
No.. the really awful process
Was the ‘Easy Flow’ breast pump.

If you stayed in neonatal,
Or your baby wouldn’t suck,
Maybe work was pressing,
And your breasts were filling up,

You were guaranteed to leak,
In soggy circles on your top,
Until your breasts faced plastic,
And only then, would stop.

Whilst your neighbor filled up freezers,
You pumped in hope for hours,
Yielding half an egg-cup full,
In two and three drop showers.

Then the toddler knocked it over,
And the cat licked up the mess,
So… Who made up some formula?
Come on girls, just confess!

3 comments:

Penny said...

I can so relate to this, Fifi - I was a bit of a dead loss on the old breast pump too! Took ages for very little reward. No wonder I used to get such sore nipples - the kids must've had to suck really hard to get anything, apparently! Love your poem.

maggie@at-the-bay.com said...

Fifi my dear I must confess
The breast pump never met my chest
I fed and fed and fed and fed
Standing up, asleep and reading in my bed

But it wasn’t all for baby
In fact they had to spit me out
The reasons for my joy you see
You must not put about

My dear Fifi (between you and me)
I moved from a no-cup to a reasonable “C”
Oh those strapless frocks, they looked so pretty
And I had to keep feeding – or fade

And now I’m a granny with underwire
At least they can’t sag I’ve been heard to brag
For they shrank back to size which was no big surprise
But a job well done, and it was such fun

While it lasted

eag said...

Oh Girls!What a relief! I mastered the damn thing, if that's the right word but can't say I ever took to it or indeed found it useful.To me the mammaries were only happy when doing their thing and they did it well, good job done, so many years ago but not forgotten.