An open letter to my breasts
We are finally done breastfeeding. I have given up the pretense. I have stopped wrestling with TJ as she squirms and screams when I offer it to her, and accepted the fact that at 10 months we are DONE.
I have ditched the stress of worrying about pumping, my supply, how much wine I've had to drink, and why it takes so long for my milk to let down with TJ even though it never did with L.
I have banished from my memory the many 3 AM feedings over the past few months where I would have to toggle TJ back and forth from the pacifier to the boob, because she would get so impatient and furious waiting and waiting and waiting (5 minutes? 10 minutes? I never did figure out how long it took) for the milk to come out.
My nipples are finally healed from December, when she made them her chewtoy during some teething phase.
I am fine with this. My intermittent sadness about my now kind of spotty track record of breastfeeding is fading. I don't feel like as much as a failure as I did. I'm ok and she is more than ok, now that her beverage of choice comes out as fast and as plentifully as she can suck it down. From a bottle.
All right, I'm not especially proud of the few times last month where I would sneak into her room while she was sleeping and nurse her when she were too sleepy to know what was up. That was desperate. I admit it.
And, let's be honest, the last month was pretty much a joke. Only one side was still making milk, and just a trickle at that. It's for the best that we have all accepted reality and moved on. (I even started using a not-safe-for breastfeeding anti-wrinkle cream, that's how over it I am.)
So why, 2 weeks after our last breastfeeding session, and months after you had any interest in actually creating enough milk to sustain a baby, did you decide to get engorged NOW? Who are we kidding here? Now that we're all done and have moved on and had closure, now you want to kick up the production? I think not.
This dysfunctional relationship is over. Protest all you want, you're not even getting any cabbage leaves.
I have ditched the stress of worrying about pumping, my supply, how much wine I've had to drink, and why it takes so long for my milk to let down with TJ even though it never did with L.
I have banished from my memory the many 3 AM feedings over the past few months where I would have to toggle TJ back and forth from the pacifier to the boob, because she would get so impatient and furious waiting and waiting and waiting (5 minutes? 10 minutes? I never did figure out how long it took) for the milk to come out.
My nipples are finally healed from December, when she made them her chewtoy during some teething phase.
I am fine with this. My intermittent sadness about my now kind of spotty track record of breastfeeding is fading. I don't feel like as much as a failure as I did. I'm ok and she is more than ok, now that her beverage of choice comes out as fast and as plentifully as she can suck it down. From a bottle.
All right, I'm not especially proud of the few times last month where I would sneak into her room while she was sleeping and nurse her when she were too sleepy to know what was up. That was desperate. I admit it.
And, let's be honest, the last month was pretty much a joke. Only one side was still making milk, and just a trickle at that. It's for the best that we have all accepted reality and moved on. (I even started using a not-safe-for breastfeeding anti-wrinkle cream, that's how over it I am.)
So why, 2 weeks after our last breastfeeding session, and months after you had any interest in actually creating enough milk to sustain a baby, did you decide to get engorged NOW? Who are we kidding here? Now that we're all done and have moved on and had closure, now you want to kick up the production? I think not.
This dysfunctional relationship is over. Protest all you want, you're not even getting any cabbage leaves.
Just the fact that you made it to 10 months is quite an accomplishment!
If it makes you feel any better, I continued to make milk one year after calling it quits with my first child. (And my milk production for both kids was always pathetic at best)