by Jen Hunt, from the archives
The following song, written to the tune of “Sound of Silence,” sheds light on Jen’s unique baby boot camp journey:
Hello, Alden, my old friend
I’ve come to feed you once again
Thanks to those bottles in the ICU
You never latched on like I hoped you’d do
And the freebies that were stashed in the diaper bag I toted back read:
“We taste as good as mom’s milk”
That sweltering night we brought you home
I had to feed you on my own
My eyes were red, their lids were baggy
My nursing bra was loose and sagging
Though I gave you every ounce that my chest could store,
you cried for more.
Please tell me how to feed a boy like Alden!
Then in my nightmares there I saw
ten thousand ladies, maybe more
Women holding their babies
Mothers nursing with no problem
Breastfeeders whose milk supply rivaled that of a Jersey cow’s
(The Lord knows how to feed a boy like Alden).
And so your mommy pumped and prayed
to the Medela Lactina maid
As La Leche called out its warnings:
“Formula was found to be deforming
in studies done on lab’ratory rats
who swallowed vats
You may as well be serving poison.”
But when my milk supply had peaked
And you cried out for more to eat
That put your Mommy in an awful spot
“Let him starve, or cause his tum to rot?”
So I did the thing any loving Mom would do. . .
Combined the two!
And that’s how to feed a boy like Alden.
