My boobs were my tools of the trade for almost 20 months.

Once my youngest daughter weaned herself from the Magical Boob Juice, the fun really began!

(And by fun we all know I mean chaos!)

Pull up a chair, sit a while, read a few pages.

Keep and open mind and a joyful heart and you too can get pumped into the world of The Milk Maid.


Monday Brain Drain...

Why do nipples get all perky in cold weather? Why not hot weather or normal weather or only during thunderstorms? Party cloudy with a chance of headlights.

Is my eldest the spawn of Satan? Would that make my ex-husband Satan? But I know plenty of people who could claim their ex as the Devil Himself. Is there more than one Devil? Is that why there are so many names for the Devil- i.e. Satan, Beelzebub, Dark Prince, etc? Or do we just live in a world of synonyms? What is a synonym for synonym?

How do I convince Ava that my arm freckles are not boo-boos? And if Ava continues to poke my freckles while calling them boo-boos will I eventually get boo-boos for her to point at and yell boo-boo?

Is it strange that as I walk around during the day at Super Large Clinic Site I always chuckle the following to myself (or occasionally out loud if my pals are near) when I see one of the OB/Gyn docs: "That person has seen my vagina!". Once I even got to exclaim, "That person has seen a HUMAN HEAD fit through my vajingo!".

--The Milk Maid has lots to ponder...


The Small Things In Life

She turned the corner in a hurry. It'd been a hectic day, as usual, but she presented a sincere smile as she turned the corner.

She wasn't sure if what she saw sitting in the woman's lap was a real human child or a baby doll. Perhaps the real kid was hiding under the chairs in the waiting room.

A tiny whine came from the small figure. It was a real baby. The smallest child she'd ever been face to face with.

The mother explained to her that P*rter was nine months old. P*rter had weighed 1.2 pounds at birth, and was now a whopping 4 pounds, 14 ounces. P*rter had also been born with pri*mordial dwarf*ism.

She couldn't help but notice P*rter's sweet face being cascaded in a full head of what she could only describe as "Clay Aiken's hair". Honey brown, sticking out in all directions, and just too adorable for words.

The following day was much the same, only she was working inside instead of with patients. Tiny P*rter needed blood drawn for various tests. Luckily, a heel stick was all that was needed and not a venous draw. The girls in the lab fawned over Mr. P as he was nicknamed. That was Friday.

Monday started like any other day... Patients filling draw rooms, specimen counters were full, people were running left and right and back and forth looking for this and helping that person and calling doctors with STAT reports.

When Dr. Joe walked into the room no one noticed him at first. It's not unusual to see Dr. Joe scooting around the lab. What was unusual was seeing no smile upon Dr. Joe's face.

Everyone paused, sensing some news was coming that no one wanted to hear...

You can stop reading this post now, imagine the outcome of the story, count your sorrows and move along or you can continue to read this post and perhaps be touched in the same way by Mr. P as I was...

Dr. Joe started by saying that he was very sorry to tell us this news. P*rter had passed away in his sleep from complications stemming out of his dwarfism and his prematurity. He continued with he hoped we all got to meet P*rter and celebrate the short time we were blessed with his presence. Dr. Joe wanted to continue, but with a tear in his eye he wished us a good day and quickly walked away leaving everyone in a state of shock.

I couldn't understand how this could have happened. He was just in the office. He was just right there. I had just talked about that sweet baby and how I'd fallen in love with him the moment I'd seen him.

I didn't sleep very well that night. I wrestled with the demons that were trying to tell me that maybe I should have done something different or better or maybe I'd made him sick somehow and it was MY fault that he'd passed away. In that normal area of stillness between dusk and dawn there was turmoil and sadness. How could God have taken this baby away from his parents? The parents who obviously were so filled with love and adoration for their child. If I was feeling this level of sadness and anger then what must his family be feeling?

This morning my feelings shifted from anger and not being able to even fathom the why of it all to something completely different.

How can I make this better? How can I fix this?

My mind raged with ideas from the mundane to the insane. Words like egg donation and surrogacy, as well as concepts like scholarships and fundraisers swirled in the endless abyss of my thoughts. Even the image of a Stephen King's Pet Cemetery style reincarnation came to mind, albeit briefly.

After much debate and lots of inner-monologue-style discussions I will be attending the memorial service in honor of Mr. P's life on behalf of the lab department. It wont fix anything and it wont change anything and it won't bring P*rter back, but it is the least I can do. If for no one else but myself.


Blab From The Lab

You know you have had a long day at the lab when:

  • You compare a small child's hair-do to Clay Aiken's tousled tresses
  • You look forward to changing your tampon just to get a moments peace and be able to sit down for longer than half a nano-second
  • You attempt to put the step culture plates into the microwave
  • You only realize it was the microwave when a co-worker goes to reheat her coffee and calls the fact out to you
  • You really don't care if you put the plates in the microwave because it's basically the same as an incubator
  • Except you eat food from that microwave and you do not want strep germs in your potato soup tomorrow
  • And you really (really) had to think about just how much you didn't want strep throat to walk the whole 12 feet back to said microwave and correct your mistake

--The Milk Maid says these boots aren't made for walking.

audio book


Pass The Cup

It's a question on every one's mind, I'm certain. You have been there, I'm positive.

Imagine yourself sitting with your legs spread open in a public bathroom, holding a sterile cup under your stream of urine, trying your best not to wet your hand. You start to pee, hitting your hand (of course) and then repositioning the cup. You stop peeing, you bring the cup up to eye level to judge the amount of urine in the cup.

How much IS enough? You don't want to under fill the cup... that's got to be a sign of bad manners or ignorance or something awful, right? But on the other hand, you don't want to put too much in the cup either!

You put the cup back between your legs, wet your hand again, and finally get what seems to be an appropriate amount in the cup. Until you bring it to eye level again and it seems like too much now!

So you dump some out.

And now there isn't enough.

Would you like to know just how much is enough for a urine specimen cup? Sure you do!

Usually, and this is based on my personal experience as a urine dipper/micro-analyzer/urine culturer at Super Huge Clinic and not on any fact or written medical guideline (merely my own opinion as someone who sees a lot of piss during the day), I say aim for 1/3-1/2 full in the specimen cup.

Wanna know WHY? I'm telling you anyways, so listen up:

The pee is first "dipped" to test for leukocytes, blood, glucose, pH, and some other junk. The dip strip is about 4 inches long (ours gets run through a nifty bar code based auto scan machine!). The best way to make a 4 inch long flexible dip strip get covered uniformly in pee pee is to tilt the cup. Not enough urine makes me work to hard. Too much urine means that I get pee on my gloved hand, the counter, my shoes, my scrubs- you get the picture.

Next, if you have wonkie outta-whack pee (highly technical term there) it will either need (a) a micro (looking at your tinkle after spinning it in a centrifuge to see all the nasty in it at 100x magnification or (b) a culture. That means a little more pee than just a spritz at the bottom.

Lastly, if your pee is really messed up- like loads of blood, nitrites, leukocytes and that whole deal, then option (b) will be performed and you will have your wee-wee sent off in a "culture" tube. The culture tube is the same size as a smaller blood vile and works pretty much the same way- through a vacuum that slurps the pee into it and mixing it with a preservative. You need more than a sprinkle for this, most definitely.

Ok, so perhaps I got a little more technical than I was going for in all of that, but I just can't help myself sometimes. Everyone of us has had that moment in the bathroom wondering just how much is enough and how much is too much.

And if you were wondering, yes the lab tech will laugh at you if you send out an overflowingly full cup of tinkle. Especially is it is wet on the outside. Because we know you didn't wash the pee off the side of the cup. And if you hands are wet then you are just waaay gross. Because it's not water- oooh no! We know better.

And don't hide your pee cup in a paper towel. You made that whizz, be proud and show it off!

And if you are on your period TELL THE TECH... no body wants you to pee Hawaiian Punch in a cup- fo' reals yo!

Maybe tomorrow I will cover the do's and don'ts of all tests involving poop!

--The Milk Maid says she's just pissing off these days.

(acne cures for all!)


Random Lyrics

The song in my head today was Belinda Carlisle's I Touch Myself.

Well, that was the song in my head. The lyrics seemed to change once I got home and started coughing (like I've been doing on and off- mostly on- for a couple weeks now). It was more like:

When I cough around you I pee myself...
Oh sure, there was a lyric in there somewhere about running out of clean shorts, and being in need of Depends, and what the fark did my children do to my blader?... but I've given you enough of a mental picture for today, right?
--The Milk Maid says pee is always good blog fodder.


6 Fabulous Years!

Happy Anniversary to my Big J...


It's been the best 6 years of my life, and I'm looking forward to many more happy years together!


Love ya,

The Milk Maid