Teamwork

Do you think she's starting to show?

The teacher of our breastfeeding and child care class talked a lot about the husband's role in the first couple days. Since a newborn's stomach is the size of a Stegosaurus's brain, the mom's breasts are busier than a Bud Light tap at a Vikings game.

Wow, there's a mixed metaphor that spans 150 million years.

Anyway, I assume that eventually Julie will become adept at breastfeeding while doing other things such as laundry or wrapping presents for me. Until then, however, I will be her minion. When the baby is feeding on lefty, I will stand ready with a burp towel and my raincoat. Julie will hand the baby to me when lefty is done, and I will burp the baby, carefully aiming any spit-up onto the towel or, worst case, the shoulder or upper back of my raincoat.

For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction, and this is why the baby spits up. She sucks, she spits. Here's an analogy to consider if you're studying for a standardized test.

Breast milk : Oxygen :: Spit-up : ______________

A. Vanity Smurf
B. Crocs
C. A kick to the groin
D. Carbon dioxide

The answer is D.

Babies also spit up because breast milk is absolutely disgusting.

So while I dodge puke, Julie might pump dessert out of lefty or simply prepare righty. After the meal, I will change the baby's diaper, put her to bed, and try not to hurl.