In my head that rhymes … and then continues with “Here comes a blog. Here comes a blog” a la Laugh In. Possibly I have had too much coffee today, though.
So, I haven’t blogged in a while. Things have been … hectic. I’ll address that later but today I want to talk about boobs. My boobs, in particular. I’m sure you all enjoy reading about my boobs, so here we go!
Sabine’s birthday is a mere 11 days away (Holy SHIT I just died a little when I typed that out!). My last day of work for the year is Friday. I have decided that Friday will be my last day of pumping at work. After that, I plan to offer milk (hormone free organic, of course) during the day and nurse in the mornings/evenings/538195810 times in the middle of the night. My boobs, on the other hand, disagree with this plan.
When I first decided to end my year long pumping venture, I was scared. Scared that my supply would totally tank and Sabine wouldn’t be able to nurse at night, causing her to wean before she was emotionally ready and causing me to go batshitcrazay. As I approach the end of pumping I am still scared … however, I am now scared that I will still be lactating when I am 80. This business is NOT easy, people!
My boobs are rioting. They are engorged, painful, lumpy (ewww, I know), you name it. Not pretty. They leak like they did when my milk first came in. I have done this gradually. I dropped down to one session per day, gradually decreased pumping time, etc. The boobs ain’t buyin’ it. They know there’s a baby, er toddler, that still wants that milk and they refuse to surrender!
I have made it to 4pm today, without pumping. At this point the girls hurt so bad that I felt the need to distract myself … by blogging about the girls. Makes sense, right? Not so much. But I have become entirely convinced that the amount of engorgement is inversely proportionate to the ability of your brain to function properly. Forreals.
*edited eleventy thousand times because, as said before, brain.don’t.work.