There is a group of winners whose heroics were sadly overshadowed by the May 10 elections. I’m talking about the superstars aptly called “mothers” – breastfeeding mothers, in particular.
Although it seems odd for a man to write about breastfeeding moms, allow me this once to pay tribute to them, as a way of greeting them, albeit belatedly, on the special day set aside for mothers last May 9.
Well, let’s just say I am a self-styled expert on the subject of breastfeeding, after having had a personal experience of seeing my five kids nurse on Liza. (Guys, count me out in the “personal experience” thing. I know what you are thinking.)
I don’t know about daddies whose babies were fed with infant formula, but I never experienced waking up in the wee hours of the morning, eyes half closed, just to prepare dede. When any of our babies whimpered, Liza just had to lie on her side while the baby snuggled and expertly searched for the bull’s eye in the dark of the night. Boy, did they have super-sensitive sensors! On the other side of the bed, all I had to do was… snore.
Because all my babies were breastfed, I didn’t have to worry a thing about IQ or EQ or whatever Q milk companies invented. Wonder of wonders, when my babies started growing up, they openly exhibited chunks of intelligence, thanks to my brainy genes… er, the amazing nutrients inherent in breast milk.
There was a time when expired or adulterated infant formulas in grocery shelves became a big issue. Not to me. Liza’s milk never spoils, at least for a good two years. Did not a famous TV ad put it so well — “Breast milk is good for babies up to two years?”
More than all these, however, I experienced the beyond-words bonding that developed between Liza and our children. Imagine this tender scenario: while Liza nursed the baby, the baby’s five tiny fingers grasped Liza’s pointing finger, while the baby’s other hand reached to feel the tenderness of the bosom that gives life. A heartwarming sight, to say the least.
Liza’s professional career? Well, she had to painfully give it up in the meantime. My wife often tells me there is an on-going struggle inside her, a constant tug-o-war between self and family. But, one thing sure, I saw in Liza the desire to make a noble career out of motherhood, not only to allow the body to realize its tremendous capacity to nurture, but more so to show to our children what sacrificial love means, in a very concrete way.
And, get this. Liza nurtured, not once, but five times over. If only for that, I think I have a hundred and one reasons to love her more now than when I married her 15 years ago. Charge it to breastfeeding and motherhood.
On this note, let me pay a fitting tribute to all breastfeeding mothers. Make a curtsy, moms! You have made a resounding “Yes” to a divine calling, which makes you are a rare, holy breed.
So, as my little way of greeting you a belated “Happy Mother’s Day,” I offer you a toast… a glass of milk.
Cheers!
Quote for the week:
“There are three reasons
for breast-feeding: the milk is always at the right temperature; it comes in attractive containers; and the cat can’t get it.”
~Irena Chalmers
Although it seems odd for a man to write about breastfeeding moms, allow me this once to pay tribute to them, as a way of greeting them, albeit belatedly, on the special day set aside for mothers last May 9.
Well, let’s just say I am a self-styled expert on the subject of breastfeeding, after having had a personal experience of seeing my five kids nurse on Liza. (Guys, count me out in the “personal experience” thing. I know what you are thinking.)
I don’t know about daddies whose babies were fed with infant formula, but I never experienced waking up in the wee hours of the morning, eyes half closed, just to prepare dede. When any of our babies whimpered, Liza just had to lie on her side while the baby snuggled and expertly searched for the bull’s eye in the dark of the night. Boy, did they have super-sensitive sensors! On the other side of the bed, all I had to do was… snore.
Because all my babies were breastfed, I didn’t have to worry a thing about IQ or EQ or whatever Q milk companies invented. Wonder of wonders, when my babies started growing up, they openly exhibited chunks of intelligence, thanks to my brainy genes… er, the amazing nutrients inherent in breast milk.
There was a time when expired or adulterated infant formulas in grocery shelves became a big issue. Not to me. Liza’s milk never spoils, at least for a good two years. Did not a famous TV ad put it so well — “Breast milk is good for babies up to two years?”
More than all these, however, I experienced the beyond-words bonding that developed between Liza and our children. Imagine this tender scenario: while Liza nursed the baby, the baby’s five tiny fingers grasped Liza’s pointing finger, while the baby’s other hand reached to feel the tenderness of the bosom that gives life. A heartwarming sight, to say the least.
Liza’s professional career? Well, she had to painfully give it up in the meantime. My wife often tells me there is an on-going struggle inside her, a constant tug-o-war between self and family. But, one thing sure, I saw in Liza the desire to make a noble career out of motherhood, not only to allow the body to realize its tremendous capacity to nurture, but more so to show to our children what sacrificial love means, in a very concrete way.
And, get this. Liza nurtured, not once, but five times over. If only for that, I think I have a hundred and one reasons to love her more now than when I married her 15 years ago. Charge it to breastfeeding and motherhood.
On this note, let me pay a fitting tribute to all breastfeeding mothers. Make a curtsy, moms! You have made a resounding “Yes” to a divine calling, which makes you are a rare, holy breed.
So, as my little way of greeting you a belated “Happy Mother’s Day,” I offer you a toast… a glass of milk.
Cheers!
Quote for the week:
“There are three reasons
for breast-feeding: the milk is always at the right temperature; it comes in attractive containers; and the cat can’t get it.”
~Irena Chalmers