By Guest Blogger Ginny Olson

Never get between a nursing momma and her baby. She will cut you.

I learned this the hard way. Back before I had babies of my own.

I drove a friend up to the mountains for a bridal shower, quite literally, in the woods. Then we attempted the 2-hour return trip home in my Ford Escort.

Not familiar with the Ford Escort? It’s a city slicker. It doesn’t do hikes. And since it had already scaled a mountain once that day, it was the little engine that could not.

It died several times on the highway. This was unnerving. Especially because mountains aren’t known for great cell service.

Each time the car died, terror gripped our hearts: Will we make it home? Will anyone notice our predicament? Will we die?

The situation appeared dire. Or so my passenger, a gentle Southern lady, thought. That’s when she went batshit.

Did I mention she had a newborn at home? A newborn who’d expected his mother to return to feed him, oh, three hours earlier?

Y’all, a nursing momma does NOT mess around. Especially when milk starts seeping out of her shirt.

As the car entered its third death spiral and I maneuvered it towards an exit, she took matters into her own hands. And tried to JUMP OUT OF THE CAR. I’m not sure what her plan was because it was ALSO RAINING. But her eyes had turned this weird orange color. Clearly, she meant some kind of business.

She then started screaming. A lot. Which is quite distracting when your car doesn’t work, your phone doesn’t work, and you’re in a monsoon.

I worked to coax her off the ledge.

It didn’t work. She lost it.

Suddenly, she launched herself out of my vehicle and CLIMBED INTO THE NEAREST CAR!

I was perplexed. Somewhere there’s a newborn wailing his hangry cries while his mother is cavorting with strangers in strange cars. Nothing to see here. Move along. I’ll just wait in my car til I get a cell signal and flag down some cops to rescue her. Not that I’ll have any idea where she’s gone, because there are GIANT BUCKETS OF WATER FALLING FROM THE SKY, CLOUDING MY VISION.

I did the reasonable thing, sacrificed my well-being and chased after her on foot, climbing into this random car. Fingers crossed, the guy driving it was actually the good Samaritan he claimed to be. Otherwise, I would have to convince him I was a jujitsu master who could take him out. (Jujitsu masters do not drive Ford Escorts.)

He showed us a picture of himself with a small child. I was skeptical. That small child could be bound and gagged in his trunk at that very minute. But my friend took it as a sign from God that we’d found Noah to save us from the flood.

He eventually drove us to a 7-11 so I could call all our loved ones and get someone to pick us up. Meanwhile little momma flitted about and fretted. Because baby boy was past due for some love.

I’m pretty sure his momma was scanning the gas station for a shiv. And I’m pretty sure I was her designated target if we didn’t get home as soon as possible.

Now that I’ve been there with babies of my own, I get it. This primal monster comes roaring out of the depths of my soul. Without warning. I will stop at nothing to get my babies what they need. In other words, get out of my way or this nursing momma will cut you.


Ginny Olson is the author of the blog, a love letter to moms, both new and seasoned, journeying from sleep deprived to joy-arrived. When not riding-herd over two small male children, Ginny works full time at a global nonprofit that specializes in leadership development and teaches Marketing for Nonprofits at the local university.

Ginny has been featured in Glamour magazine, the Greensboro News & Record, Piedmont Parent, and Triad Moms on Main, as well as several mom blogs. You can follow MothersRest on Facebook.


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