Keep Britain Breastfeeding Scavenger Hunt: Breastfeeding is Dangerous (Or, The Day I Shot a Man)
I only have one funny breastfeeding story, and I’m slightly horrified to share it, but as it’s bound to have happened to someone else (please, please let it have happened to one of you) I’m going to share it anyway.
Breastfeeding Jensen did not come easy. After three months though I was getting the hang of it instead of sobbing in pain and at some point, the mister and I were in town and sat on a bench outside to feed him before we went home. My left breast is known as “the good breast” as it for some reason has been the favourite breast of my two boys, and seems to replenish faster than the right. In any case, by the time Jensen was ready to feed, it was a little bit like a bowling ball.
Jensen did his best to latch on and then it happened. The let down came and as it was so strong, it had hit the back of Jensen’s throat and he clamped down on my nipple to stem the flow (which is not fun), but then some very noisy people happened to begin walking past us. Being a very nosey baby, he turned his head to see what the commotion was, and flipped my nipple out of his mouth.
And it happened. Like something out of Fireman Sam.
I shot a man. In the back. With breastmilk. I was horrified. I had managed to squirt breastmilk at a range of over a metre away, very powerfully, like a mad garden sprinkler. I pulled my breast pad on to stem the flow and froze. The mister and I looked at each other, and bit our lips as the man and his friends walked on. I’m pretty sure he’d rather not have known that he had liquid gold on his shirt. Pretty sure.
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