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or nipple of do good in for mother

Page history last edited by April Sopczak 10 years, 3 months ago

Twenty-two and a half hours of labor to be cut open and de-stuffed like a well cooked Christmas turkey giving up its Stove Top. I would have rather have been gutted like a fish, but c-sections cost money and I had none, so they went the cheaper and more painful route.

 

"Would you like to keep him with you or would you like to put him in the nursery?"

 

"Where is the father?"

 

"He went home."

 

"Yes, please put him in the nursery. I can't walk."

 

"Have you had any pain killers? When was the last time you ate?"

 

"No, no pain killers. I think I ate two days ago, I'm not sure."

 

"I'll bring you some codeine and a sandwich."

 

I woke three hours later to a dour looking woman carrying in my newborn son. I held him and stared, he was even more beautiful than when I first saw him. How was that possible?

 

"I'm your lactician. Sit in the chair. You need to feed him."

 

The chair was less than a foot away, but it felt like a mile. Forget this pain? Never. That is nothing more than an old wives tale, maybe even an outright lie. Pain like this could never be forgotten.

 

"Take out your breast. I'm going to show you how to attach him to the nipple."

 

Every person in the maternity ward had appeared with a friend to look at my hoo hoo the night before, I am quite certain of this. What was one more nipple? I'm normally quite reserved, but I whipped it on out and allowed this strange woman to force my breast into my child's mouth.  His mouth began to move, partially opening and closing, but nothing happened so he stopped and let go.

 

"Put it in again. You're doing it wrong. Here like this."

 

The dour looking woman looking woman roughly grabbed my breast and forced it back into my child's mouth. This happed two more times before she huffed loudly and announced that she had other patients to see. I was glad to see her go, I was feeling quite molested. She turned at the door and menacingly threatened her return. Unfortunately, Cruella kept her promise to come back and we repeated this scene twice more. This obviously wasn't working and the baby needed to eat, so I requested a bottle.

 

"If you start him on the bottle it will be even harder to get him on the breast. You don't want him on the bottle. It's not as good for him and it costs money. You don't want to be on WIC."

 

The mother bear in me roared to life even louder that the indignation of the insult she just hurled at me. I knew what my child needed and that was exactly what I was going to get for him.

 

"My baby needs to eat and you need to get him a bottle. I'm his mom and I will make the decisions. As far as what I want, you don't know what I want, but I will tell you want I want. I want you to get out of my room. NOW!"

 

She took her dour-looking face and headed out the door as my nurse headed in to see what the noisy problem was.

 

"The problem is that woman! Keep that nipple nazi bitch out of my room! She is pure evil and a danger to my child. He needs to eat, I need a bottle for him."

 

The nurse hurried off to get a bottle. In low hushed tones, I heard them talking about me in the hall. Bits and pieces of the conversation floated into my room as I fed my child from his bottle. He wasn't sucking from it either, so I squeezed little bits into his mouth and he hungrily swallowed up the formula. They called me a few names and discussed the content of my character in unpleasant terms, but the lactician never came back and my son got his bottles.

 

We went home and two days later met the pediatrician. I relayed the story and the doc told me how proud he was of me for standing up for my child. My son had a condition which prevented him from sucking. His formula had to be squeezed into his mouth for the first three months of his life until the correct muscles developed.  I knew something was wrong even before the doctor told me. I am his mom.

 

Comments (4)

Aardvark Marker said

at 3:51 pm on Oct 7, 2010

April,

Thanks for contributing!

I forgot to ask for this before, but can you reflect a little on your method of reworking the text?

April Sopczak said

at 9:04 pm on Oct 7, 2010

Sure! I made a consorted effort to read each of your disjointed phrases, but my mind would not focus. It ran hither and yon, this way and that, until I read that particular phrase. My thoughts snapped to and I instantly thought of that 13-year-old memory with the clarity of yesterday. So, I wrote about it.

Aardvark Marker said

at 9:06 pm on Oct 7, 2010

Awesome! A single phrase sparks a whole new idea!

ShareRiff said

at 2:40 pm on Oct 8, 2010

bowin', thankin', praisin'

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