Rus Articles Journal

With milk of mother of

Ya prepared for feeding as the athlete to the Olympic Games. Read the book “Directly from Heart“ (in Hebrew, a grant - the anthem to feeding), ate nuts, yogurts and black bread, avoided smokers and it was adjusted on good.

the Child me got to

“correct“. It, it is visible, too had good training inside. At once the nipple found and seized it as it is necessary. Only I could not pick up a pose in any way. Everything that was drawn in the book, did not suit me. On pictures pyshnogrudy Madonnas sat, lay and collapsed in chairs for feeding, and shchekasty babies clasped their loins okruglo and is dense as a sock a heel. I sat, lay and collapsed, but to Dudnik (derivative from David) it was inconvenient. It peeped, and both of us suffered. In three days after the delivery there arrived to chamber the lady - the philanthropist, the specialist in feeding.

- Well as? - she asked vigorous tone of the instructor on riding.

- Milk is, but process is inconvenient, - I timidly answered.

- And in what pose you feed? Show.


Ya how I sit, I lie and I collapse.

- Sit down on a simple chair, - the lady ordered (I mentally clicked for it a whip).

Ya sat down, and everything rose on the places. The simple chair was for us rescue. I sat with a direct back, holding Dudnik as a mandoline. Both of us felt a little unnaturally, but process went. Then we were accustomed and in two weeks ate already somehow and anywhere.

concerning the schedule of feedings plans were initially pragmatically - collective-farm: each three hours the child eats, yields of milk according to the schedule, indicators grow. In intervals the child has to sleep, and mother to walk or too to sleep. But not here - that was. Already in maternity hospital my son showed what is identity. For the second day after the delivery I glanced in baby office in two hours after feeding - and what? All their small brotherhood sleeps, and mine cries. Took it, red, scratched, in the mittens which are put on how it scratched itself(himself) and fed. I speak to sisters:“ Will cry, you bring“. Also began. Everyone two - two and a half hours they dragged it to me.

- Madam Golego, your child cries, - they proclaimed loudly and joyfully, relieving from themselves any responsibility, and with relief handed to me the baby. I then honor it and did not give.

I here us was written out, and here we houses. Collective-farm manners paved the road to hell. To our wonderful hell smelling of children`s cream, a new bed and all new. My breast is twined the cabbage leaves which are sticking out extensively of a bra - oh, cabbage, without you my breast, undoubtedly, would burst from milk, and I should decant it or die; I do not know whether find in you children, but happy mothers - it is unconditional. And my kid sucks all the time. On a suction. I am a weak-willed adherent of system “to give a breast according to the first requirement“. I even expanded a framework of this system and I give this breast both on the second, and according to the third requirement. I fell so low (oh, strict mothers with the iron three-hour mode!), that I give it always. Having bashfully taken cover a diaper, we are fed in buses, in policlinics, on shops, in parks, in shops, including antiquarian, sitting in the twilight of the ancient arches at gloss of swords, on the Arab carpets. And together with mother`s milk my son soaks up in himself all this mad city, old and new, and I inhale freedom air.

When mother feeds with

, it is free, and her free hand can hang down, write, hold a serving spoon, the book or a tube of phone, to support the head. It is a lot of. And the main thing is a feeling that both of you do the part, carry out great mission. The B - g ordered:“ propagate and breed“. And here we bred and bred. Also we multiply the force at the expense of milk.

But not everything is so simple

. The suction as I understood, happens practical - to guzzle hunting - and psychological - support is necessary. Blessed age when you, mother, one simple movement solve so many problems...

There now, he ate and it is possible, having accurately thrust it into a mouth a forefinger, to take out a nipple (without finger will not give for anything). Podliznul tiny uvula invisible droplet and measurement. I call this stage an okuklivaniye. Eyes are closed, breath equal, than not an angel. Okuklivaniye, as well as the suction, happens true and false. The first conducts to a healthy sleep which will not interrupt transfer in a carriage or a bed. And false means that my son artfully is thrilled and any distance from a source of its delights conducts to an exit from our nirvana and to transition to a stage “that still it is necessary to you“. It is a stage of Shakespearean questions and passions. For it the mankind invented rattles, windows, other people, music, pets and the child`s father. All this is offered to Duson in different sequence, there is no it yet - the first requirement. And then we sit down where stood or we lay down where sat. Business is business, and we deserved this respite.


Ya fed with

my kid till two years. He, of course, already ate also other food, but did not refuse to himself a suction. Especially long the final or lethal suction, before going to bed kept. Yes, I will not hide when we were fed on the street now, at us looked sideways, as at the kissing old men. Laughed at us, and we did not pay attention. We were proud that we can go to travel “all of a sudden“, without preparing anything, without sterilizing, without bottles and searches of boiled water. We very much appreciated these minutes of proximity and enjoyed them to the latest time.

It happened to

at my sister-in-law on Pesakh. Dudnik was two years old a month ago. He was surrounded by the nephews adoring it and lived in clover among the cheerful festive commotion. I decided that it is time. All day tactfully (from the word “tactics“) various food and a bottle with water or porridge was offered it. In the general vanity Dusich not especially applied for my attention, but when there came evening, time of twilight awakening dark fears and animal instincts, he unambiguously and persistently howled. Rose, sleepy, in a pajamas, and, holding hands a bed side, appealed, desired to be put. I took it on hands and, without undoing a shirt, told:“ Milk came to an end, darling“. I repeated to it these words in the dark, embracing and kissing it. He became puzzled and began to cry, sleepy, not understanding. He with contempt rejected a bottle with water. And with porridge after a while - took. With bitterness ate and fell asleep. Next morning it rose early and played with other children. When I got up, he ran up to me. I sat down on hunkers. Dusich embraced me and put the handle to me on a breast.

- Came to an end in

? - he asked, and in a voice him I heard compassion - he felt sorry for me, my little friend.

- Came to an end in

, native, - I answered. - But mother can always embrace you.

I we embraced as friends, together enduring loss. Some more days he remembered what “came to an end“ and spoke to me about it. But that shook me - any more did not ask. As a real man endured everything. Just in case, to avoid diplomatic scandal, the husband gave an evening bottle. So the Period of the Great Suction came to the end. Happy, surprising time of our touching proximity.

Now my three-year-old himself stirs to himself evening porridge, standing on a chair in a pajamas and keeping saying “A fife itself“. Leaving for the night, we sit at it in a bed and we read books in Russian, Hebrew or English. Then tells the Fife: “Now to sleep“. I turn off the light, I lie with it in an embrace some more minutes, I speak: “Quiet night, darling“. Also I get on “in the world“. I turn from mother into the woman and I go to put a teapot. Other counting of time went.