Yup I said it. And if you found this post through some search of the word boob and for
desires reasons other than reading my whining complaints about breastfeeding, you’re not going to find what you’re looking for here. And if you do, yuck. I have a serious case of formula envy. Who knew there was such a thing, but I’ve got it bad. If you’re thinking it’s because I’m some kind of lush, it has nothing to do with alcohol, and I’m not. In fact, I rarely drink at all or rarely did drink, since I can’t currently and haven’t for YEARS. Though interestingly I can tell you the last drink I had was the last weekend in June of 2009, because I was kinda sorta purposely not drinking that drink because I thought I might be pregnant but hadn’t had time to take the test yet and I didn’t want to raise any red flags by saying no to having a drink during girls weekend (Don’t get me started on how I haven’t had a girls weekend since). Then I was pregnant, and breastfeeding and then when I stopped breastfeeding it was only because I was pregnant again and my milk supply gave out. So now its been almost 3 years since I’ve had a drink, really at this point why go back. Ummm because I still crave a glass of white wine, man if I crave it and don’t even drink that much I can’t imagine what it must be like for those that do. But enough on that tangent, this post is not about alcohol, it’s about my boobs and how I want them back. This is strange since I generally don’t even really like them, they’re kinda on the smallish side when not breastfeeding and nothing overly spectacular, in my opinion. At this point though they simply represent a certain freedom, one that I greatly long for.
There are so many wonderful things about breastfeeding, briefly to name a few, protection against diseases, enormous nutritional benefits, cost savings (hey formulas expensive), special bonding, possibly reduces your risk of certain cancers, etc. etc. Heck looking at it that way it’s practically life saving. What all the brochures don’t tell you is that sometimes it downright SUCKS, no pun intended. You either have to be near your baby on a pretty stinking regular basis or pump regularly enough to maintain some sort of supply of milk for any occasions away from your little bambino. Really, anyone who thinks pumping is convenient, clearly doesn’t do it or not often enough, because I find little joy into having to attach plastic suction cups to the ladies while this annoying humming machine makes weird sounds while it tries to extract milk from my body. At no point in my life did I expect to have something in common with a cow. So now I have formula envy, because it would be so nice to hand Pippa off to her grandparents or a babysitter and get away for a day or a night and not have to worry about having enough milk for her or having to find somewhere to pump and store the milk. But I’m trapped by this tiny little person who makes my heart sing and who I adore but just can’t get away from for quite long enough. So while I in no way would change my choice and don’t get me wrong it even saddens me a little she will be six (6) months old this week and starting on other types of nourishment, I just wish that those breastfeeding pamphlets would be a little more honest with people, maybe I’ll start writing my own…
Breastfeeding; Why it Pays to be a Cow!
Think Menstruation Cramps are Bad try Mastitis
Engorgement? It’s not for the faint at heart!!!
I think I should keep my day job…