Journal Entry

Mommy moments: Leaking breast milk and a helpful husband

My husband and I were heading home from a trip to Dallas. While at the airport, I noticed that my breasts were leaking. It was of no real concern; I had on breast pads. I was at the end of my term as mommy milk machine; a little leakage was normal.

Once on the plane, my progressively hardening bosom started leaking again. I became nervous about the wherewithal of the pads. I was a first-time mom learning a huge lesson, bring extra breast pads!

Finally, we landed. My chest was in agony. I was full of mama’s milk and needed a release. By this point, the pads were leaking through to my bra. I was embarrassed, but more important, I had to do something about the pain the milk was causing. I had an idea. I told my husband to find a family-style bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d found one. He quickly ushered me to it and locked the door behind us…or so I thought.

“Honey help me!” I cried out.

“Just squish ’em or push ’em, or something,” he yelled.

I tried squishing and pushing, but the milk wasn’t coming out fast enough. I stood there, watching myself in the dirty airport mirror, nipples dripping large drops of mama nectar on the tiled floor. I realized drastic measures had to be taken.

I looked my husband square in the eyes, “You’ve got to suck the milk out.”

He looked at me, half aroused and half repulsed. “Are you kidding? I’m not doing that!”

“You have to, I’m dying over here, for the love of God, help me!” I yelled.

Reluctantly, he bent down and began to give me the relief that I needed. A wave of gratitude washed over me and came crashing into his mouth. Just then, I heard the bathroom door open.

The weary traveler’s eyes locked onto our nursing session and we all froze. Time stood still. Then as if someone had hit the play button again, the traveler backed away and closed the door. The moment was surreal. I was in complete disbelief that my husband forgot to lock the door. Well, not complete.

All in all, I got relief for my giant nursing mom breasts, and my husband got a taste of mother’s milk. As for the weary traveler, he received a very clear explanation of why it’s called a “family” bathroom.