27 February 2008

like getting a gold star on my forehead

Recently I was asked by a friend if I would be willing to sell her some breastmilk. Holy moly, was that a surprise. As a BFAR mom, it's a bit of a miracle that I have the means to deliver milk at all, let alone be considered for donor duty. I had over 2 pounds of boob removed in 2001, when babies were not even a twinkle in my eye. Truth be told, the idea of breastfeeding grossed me out back then so when the surgeon said breastfeeding would not be possible during his run-down of the risks/problems/trouble associated with the surgery I didn't even blink.

So here we are, six and a half years after surgery, with 2 babies and 22 months of breastfeeding under my bra, and I get asked if I want to sell some milk. She's going out of town for a couple of days and wasn't sure she had enough of a stash to last. I've said before, in the immediate aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, that I would nurse a baby that wasn't mine in a disaster situation. Wouldn't think twice about it, except to hope my body would respond. So really, this was a no-brainer. Of course. I've got some in the freezer and can pump some fresh, should she want some with antibodies for this plague we have. A little over a week from now I am going to be away for the better part of a day so I was thinking of getting the pump out of the closet anyway. One last hurrah for me and pump-in-style, my talking pump. (A topic for a whole other post, I suppose. Mine has been known to say "Pizza!")

Once I got over the initial stunned, elated, worried, thrilled feeling, I realized it was the "sell" part that was troublesome. I'd give it away, no problem, but taking money makes it just a tiny bit creepy, even if the going rate really is $4 an ounce(!!!), as she said. The only thing I'd take in return is a playdate for my son at her house, while I sit someplace quiet with a very large beverage! Or maybe take a nap.

Even if her husband doesn't end up calling me for milk, my friend will never know how much I appreciate being considered. I've done a lousy job of expressing myself, as usual, but really, this is huge for me. In those difficult early months of nursing Oliver, I never would have believed anyone would be asking me for milk for their child. But here we are.

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