I have been frequenting some of my niece and nephew’s soccer
games, getting up way too early on Saturday mornings to quickly feed the
babies, get us all clothed and ready, piling into the car and heading to
whatever destination required us to go to watch a bunch of way-too-energetic kids
at that time of morning run back and forth, up and down a field of green,
kicking at a soccer ball and seeming to, more times than not, kicking each
other in the shins.
On this particular morn, I had quickly fed the babies, not
taking the full amount of time to adequately nurse them until they were full
and drowsy again with full bellies. They were sated, dozing as we drove to the
soccer field and happy when we arrived. (If they were starving, trust me, I
would be “told” by ear-piercing wails of discontent.) It was a rather chill
morning. Though it was sunny and supposedly SPRING, you could most of the
parents and visitors had expected warmer climes than what was had. Blankets and
additional jackets were dragged out of backseats and trunks. My parents, who
had come to also see their grandchildren play ball, were nice enough to take
the babies in their big suburban, my mother, and the consummate mother she is (she
should be crowned the queen after putting up with us kids and then taking under
wing OUR children) enjoyed entertaining them while the rest of us watched the
game outside.
About halfway into the first inning (Quarter? Period?), I was
just too cold to remain sitting there on the sideline. I excused myself from
the cheering and shivering parents and hurried to my own car which was parked
some distance away from the playing field and even my parents vehicle where the
babeses were surely happily enjoying gram-ma-mas funny faces and cartoonish
voices. I slipped into my car, turned it on, let it warm up and let it warm me
up. Parked beside me was another vehicle, a small SUV, with a young man who was
sitting in the backseat of it. I could see a carseat in the back with him and
figured he must be one of the parents of the players warming himself also.
Inside of the warm car, I shut off the engine and sat back and
enjoyed letting the heat envelope me. I adjusted the back of my seat rearward a
little, trying to enjoy just a few more minutes of solitude before I went back
out into the chill. As the motor went quiet, coming to my ears came the sound
of a baby crying. I listened closely wondering where it came from. Glancing to
the small SUV beside me, I noticed the man in the backseat rocking back and
forth, a small peak of a swaddled object in his arms. He was rocking his
baby-child in the warmth of his own vehicle.
I tried to close my eyes and sit back and relax. But all I
could hear were the wails of the baby in the next car over, crying, crying. I
knew that cry of hunger, but unlike hearing it come from my own babies, and
being able to react, all I could was sit there and hear that heart-wrenching
wail.
A strange thing about motherhood is that sometimes, if just the
right circumstances, the hungry cry of another baby is enough to create the
need for a nursing mother to start to lactate…and this happened to be that
circumstance…
Suddenly I felt a warmth spread through my breasts and knew
instantly I was starting to “letdown”. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as
the fullness grow within my huge bosoms. As the minutes ticked by and that baby
still balled, my boobs slowly filled and filled, getting to the point of
fullness, then going beyond it. I gasped as my breastflesh overflowed the rims
of my maternity brassiere and “fluffed” up. It became more and more uncomfortable
as the undergarment grew tighter and tighter as my poor milk-swollen boobies
continued to expand and swell and fill.
Finally I could take it no more. If I sat there any longer I
would either completely burst from my clothing or get so big I’d end up wedged
in the car. I awkwardly got myself out of the car, nearly falling over as all
my frontal weight shifted and tried to drag me down. My gawd, I was enormous!
My nipples were like shotglasses, fully rigid and ready for suckling.
The young father in the back of his SUV with child glanced up
surprised at first when I rapped on his window. His eyes grew wide again as he
peered down at the massive jutting chest of the woman outside his vehicle.
He rolled down his window. “May…may I help you?” he said over
the continued wail of the baby in his arms. I could see an empty bottle next to
him and he continued to rock the child gently to calm him/her.
“You baby seems hungry. May I be of some assistance?” I said
peeking in at the cute little infant. Its little wet eyes met mine and it
seemed to…know…sustenance was very very close by as its crying toned down to
little sniffles.
The young father, looking again down at my jutting heavy
breasts, that to question my ability to assist him and his child would be a
waste of breath. He simply smiled, said his thanks, and we exchanged spots…he
stood outside, giving me some privacy, while I sat in his vehicle and began
nursing his child.
Such was my ever strange life.
