Ah breastfeeding, my bittersweet friend.
I knew there would be difficulties. I knew both baby and I would struggle and pain may be experienced. But, oh, how there is so much I never saw coming:
Waking at night in a pool of my own milk.
Weight loss is happening.
Breasts doubling in size, but sagging as if they want nothing more than to reach my toes.
How the spray of the shower head causes searing pain.
The amazing humiliation of my first pumping session.
The gold like status of all pumped milk.
The rage and frustration I felt with my first spill of that liquid gold while transferring it into a freezer bag.
Pride at the amazing gift I can give my child of perfect food for his little body.
Feedings lasting an hour and a half in the middle of the night with the next feeding just an hour away by the end.
The pressure of being the only person who can feed the boy right now.
The shockingly sharp pain my nipples feel whenever I get cold and nip.
The awesome disc pads I get to wear in my bra, because my boobs weren't big enough before.
Having no shirts that fit me, not because of my stomach but because of my boobs.
Wearing a bra at all times lest I spray milk everywhere.
Spraying milk all over my son in the middle of a feeding.
Having nipple chaffing from the wet bra pads.
Constantly smelling like old, human milk.
The throbbing before a feeding.
His inability to stay awake and eat.
My inability to stay awake and feed.
All the fun that comes with trying to feed in the car under a blanket in the heat.
Oh breastfeeding, how you have enriched my life.
Is it all worth it?
I suppose so.
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