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Have you ever unintentionally sprayed someone with breast milk? Well, I have. Just yesterday, as I was reminiscing about those days, I spotted a mother in the park who had just finished nursing her baby. I smiled at her, feeling a sense of camaraderie in motherhood. I wanted to tell her how much I cherished those moments; breastfeeding is such a beautiful act of love.
However, let’s be honest—breastfeeding can be pretty bizarre. The entire experience of childbirth is strange. Growing a human inside you is something you can hardly wrap your mind around until you see a tiny fist or heel pushing against your abdomen. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying, reminding me of a scene from a sci-fi movie where the baby bursts out of its host.
The emotional rollercoaster of being a new mom is intense. Along with joy and anxiety, I often felt primal rage. If someone dared to mention a salami sandwich during my pregnancy, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of hostility. And heaven help anyone who stood between me and a burrito when I had a craving. Labor was no picnic either; I was ready to snap at my doula and husband when they denied me even a single ice chip after a grueling 52-hour ordeal that ended in an emergency C-section.
But let’s return to the love. Feeding your baby from your own body is exhilarating. Yes, love, but I must mention the pain of those early breastfeeding days—like trying to walk on hot asphalt for the first time. (Warning: If you’re squeamish about bleeding nipples and painfully engorged breasts, you might want to skip this paragraph.)
One Airplane + Two Overflowing Breasts. What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
Months of preparation led me to a point where I could finally nurse without pain. There I was, in the plane, with my eight-year-old son beside me and my three-month-old baby, Chloe, on my lap. Contrary to what you might think, traveling with restless kids and engorged breasts is no fun at all. You have to wait for the right moment to nurse, especially after navigating security and check-in lines. After what felt like an eternity, we finally settled in our seats. Relief washed over me; I could nurse Chloe and spare the other passengers from a screaming baby.
Everything seemed fine until Chloe began nursing and the plane took off. My breasts, under immense pressure, had a situation brewing. Just as a couple nearby started chatting loudly, Chloe pulled away, leaving me exposed. Did I mind? Not really; it happened often. But then, disaster struck. A stream of breast milk shot out from my right breast, landing squarely on the head of the bald man seated in front of me.
Was it my fault? Maybe not. But I knew I needed to act quickly. I reattached Chloe and prayed he wouldn’t notice. But of course, he did. I watched in horror as he patted his head, searching for the source of the warm liquid. In a moment of panic, I patted my own head and said to my son, “Odd. Did you feel something drop? Must be air coolant.” I doubt honesty would have helped, so I made a mental note: never sit behind a bald man on a flight again.
If you’re curious about other amusing motherhood stories, check out this post on home insemination or learn more about the process from Make a Mom. For a deep dive into pregnancy week by week, visit March of Dimes, as it is an excellent resource for expectant parents.
Summary:
This humorous anecdote recounts the author’s unexpected experience of accidentally spraying a bald man with breast milk during a flight. It captures the chaotic realities of motherhood, the challenges of breastfeeding, and the emotional highs and lows of being a new parent.
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