junk.rat

i was a projectile vomiter*

…and i have the scar to prove it.

i thought zakk was a projectile vomiter, too. my first night back to work, after he was born, i picked him up at my mom’s and we drove home. when we got there, he refused to breast feed [ouch!] and proceeded to spew an inordinate amount of barf. gallons of vomit EVERYWHERE. i called my mom in a panic. i told her what had happened and asked her if she thought he might have what i had had, pyloric stenosis.

she asks, “did it hit the wall across the room?”
i say no.
she says, “don’t worry about it then. i guess that he just gobbled up all that formula because getting food from bottles is so much less work than breastfeeding.”

then i yelled at her.

“DO YOU REALIZE THAT I HAVEN’T BREASTFED IN OVER NINE HOURS AND I HAVE ENOUGH MILK FOR 5 BABIES AND MY BOOBS ARE AS HARD AS ROCKS AND TWICE AS HEAVY AND I HAVE NO BREAST PUMP AND EVEN THOUGH HE’S PROBABLY THROWN UP EVERYTHING HE ATE, HE’S REALLY PISSED OFF BECAUSE THE BREAST MILK ISN’T COMING OUT AS FAST AS THE BOTTLE?!??”

and, of course, she laughed. then she apologized and we worked out a feeding schedule so that i could get some relief after work. but it wasn’t long before he was completely weaned off of the breast. ’cause he really WAS a little bottle piggy.

*this post is dedicated to jen, the catbarf blogger, who used the words “projectile vomiting” in a sentence. about catbarf. eewww.