Boobsession

d6b8dcbf810485ad8697cfc8b5af02e0Lately, I feel like my whole life revolves around my boobs. I spend a good 90% of my time walking around the house with a boob hanging out and a baby attached to it. I can’t walk past the baby or my husband without one of them staring at my boobs like it’s time for a treat. For one of them, it is. For the other, he can get over it.
I knew that breastfeeding was going to be demanding but I didn’t realize that it was going to change my entire sense of self. My boobs used to be one of the few parts of my body I was proud of. I walked around with my tig ol’ bittys and my hour-glass figure and I felt like I was hot shit. I got attention, most of it the wrong kind, but I felt great about myself. As I got older, the hourglass turned into more of an apple but I still rocked a tight sweater like nobodies business.
These days, my shirts are all loose necked nursing tees with leak stains complementing the spit up spots. My boobs have jumped from DD to GG’s and they weigh about 15lbs each. It hurts. My nipples are sore and the areola are the size of gourmet salami slices. I can put on a tight sweater but then I have to worry about it restricting my milk production. I have to watch what I wear and what I eat. I have to make time each day to attach myself to this horrible contraption that is supposed to pump the extra milk so they don’t hurt so badly but I am absolutely convinced that it’s an instrument of torture. My hot shit attitude has been exchanged with a hot mess.
I wasn’t able to breastfeed my other kids so being able to breast feed Sy is a totally new experience for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love being able to comfort him in a way that no one else can. But it’s still a way that NO ONE else can. He is always on me, attached to me or being passed to me because he might be hungry. He won’t go to sleep unless I lay down next to him and let him nurse to sleep. Then he won’t stay asleep unless he’s laying nose to nipple with me. He’s actually doing that right now. I swear to God that I am going to create a teddy bear with a big silicone boob attached to it just so he will have something to snuggle with other than me. My boobs have become his security blanket and I fear that I am completely screwed.
I take comfort in knowing that while they may not be spectacular to the outside world, they are still amazing to one little nursling. I am proud that I can provide for my child. I am proud to be a mother, tig ol’ bittys or not. It is only a short time that we will be able to share these special moments and I hope to enjoy each and every one of them, at least until he has teeth.

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Filed under My Kid Actually Eats That, Parenting, Uncategorized

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