Tuesday, March 09, 2010
Pump it up a little more, get the party going on the dance floor
I've become one of those people who is a threat to nurse their kid until he's a teenager.
Seriously. I now see how it happens.
However. I am slowly slowly heading towards Boob Liberation Day (BLD). Just much more slowly than I anticipated.
You know, I started out all, no way am I going to pump! I'm going to breastfeed until I have to go back to work and that is that.!
And then I got all sore-nippled and wandered around half-naked and the PPD was crushing and I felt so suffocated and just plain trapped under the weight of my child and milk-filled boobs. And I just wanted my body back. I wanted someone else to feed the kid. Every single day I decided I would get through one more day of nursing, and then I could quit.
And then suddenly it got easy and fun. Even if we didn't have as much of a mutual bond as I believed.
So then I decided we'd get to six months. Six months would be my cutoff point.
And then six months arrived. And I decided I'd just nurse morning and night. No more pumping. Because it's the pumping I'm sick of.
But this doesn't exactly work if I nurse on the weekends. Which I do.
So now I pump once a day if I can get away with it without my boobs exploding. I sometimes picture them exploding in a meeting. Or while walking down the hall.
I'll be sitting at a conference table or walking past someone's office, and all of a sudden, BLAM! PFFFSSSSSHHHHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSSHS!
So now I'm thinking seven months. Seven months. BLD, here I come.
And then, then my friends, I am having a big fat BLD happy hour.