Apparently, it lies with our choice(s) in baby bottle nipple(s).
Up until a couple of weeks ago, we had a baby who
gladly grudgingly took a bottle from her dad every other night. Then all hell broke loose. Imagine our glee to find out that the screech-a-thon could be abated by simply upgrading to the fast flow version of the bottle nipple. Ah, she was just becoming impatient. Problem solved and happy full baby restored.
That lasted about two weeks, at which point bottle feeding once again became a fussy fest of wailing and gnashing [had she teeth, I’m sure there would have been gnashing]. So, I broke down. Against everything I wanted to do, we strayed from silicone and tried a latex nipple. I have a latex sensitivity and, while I don’t get anything worse than a rash and am willing to handle the latex myself, I didn’t want to expose babyQ to a potentially predisposed allergen.
The problem is that [twice, anyway] she loves it. This goes beyond the tolerance for the bottle that she previously displayed. I mean, she actually let me feed her with the bottle. While she was awake and unfussy. Me, who is the bearer or the Original Food Source. Not the pumped crap, frozen in amongst the peas and tater-tots and thawed in a bowl of tepid tap water. And yet she took it.
So, you know what this means, right?
Forget stretch marks and sagging. Post baby, my boobs are now so much like rubber that my 3 month old breast fed babe is able to willingly accept a latex nipple in lieu of her mother’s.