My name is Mia and I am a breast feeder. I am not a Nazi breast feeder, shoving my boobies down everyone I know's throat. But I believe wholly in breast feeding and am glad I have been able to do it. It is a wonderful experience. One I'm proud to have participated in and am ready....to be done with. Ugh. It is really great. But. sigh. It gets a little old. At first, you have this little peanut cuddling against your belly getting all the nourishment she needs to LIVE. It's amazing. It's so fulfilling. It's a little ego boosting - YOU are this child's LIFE support. And...it's a little restricting. It changes your boobies. It makes them small, sad and saggy.
Don't get me wrong. I have loved breast feeding, and still do, at times. But I can't deny that I have moments when I daydream of the day I'm done with breast feeding. I can see me running around naked shaking my tatas screaming, "They're MINE! ALL MINE!!!!!". I'm not kidding. I actually had that day dream today while pumping at work.
When you become a mother there is so much of yourself that you give up. Your work out time, your time with your hubby, much- or all- of your professional self, your ME time. I don't think you anticipate how much of your body you give up. Your lap becomes as desirable as front row seats for Madonna. Your hair becomes a toy. Your mouth becomes this sanitized recorder that says only "What do you say? How do you ask? You have 5 minutes before....." The back of your knee becomes a crutch for a needy 3 year old.
But never did I realize how personal this complete take-over would be. My boobies. My breasts. My tatas are no longer..........mine.
I have been struggling lately with continuing breast feeding or to stop. My goal is to make it 12 months. As far as Quinn is concerned, it could go either way. Both my girls were that way. (I'm trying to NOT take that personally.) On one hand, I want what's best for my baby. Going into Flu season, it'd be best for her to get all those antibodies for a few more months. It's SO much more convenient - no bottles to make, no mess, no bottles to wash. It's cheaper. It allows me to eat ice cream more than I really NEED to.
But. (sigh) Pumping at work. The Guilt (THE GUILT) associated with missing a feeding. The crying at my breast while she waits (impatiently) for the milk to come down. The distracted 9 month old who needs to check out everything her 3 year old sister is doing while clamping my nipple in her mouth. The TEETHING 9 month old who likes pressure on her gums (ie: BITING THE NIPPLE). The sweet caresses from the girl while she eats that turn into the pinching of the OTHER nipple and trying to pull THAT one into her mouth as well. That's fun. The fact that it becomes a "no fly zone" in the bedroom. (Never to be flown again, by the way. At least as far as I'm concerned!).
To be honest. I don't always love it. I'm not a "Le Leche League" nazi. I am grateful I have the equipment that works, children that know how to use it and a support network to make it possible. But I understand women who choose to not breast feed. It IS an invasion of your self. It is a selfless sharing of your most personal parts.
But, it is not completely selfless.
There are those sweet, sweet moments when it's just you and her. In a quiet room. She's curled like a comma around you. Her eyes flutter closed as she receives nourishment from your body. (How AMAZING it is that YOU are her only nourishment for so long!) Her soft, long, beautiful eyelashes land on her soft, round cheeks as she slowly stops feasting. Belly full. Her mouth trembles to a stop, her lips still pursed. My breast glides out of her mouth and her sweet little lips stay pursed, holding the memory of that connection. (sigh). This is good stuff. How blessed I am that I can experience this with my baby girl? Ok. Motivated again. I can do this. What's 3 more months? I spent 3 months IN BED for this little being. I can do THIS. HOORAH for Boobies!
