Don't Make A Breastacle of Yourself

Now that the baby has decided to ignore my strict admonishments and grow up anyway, we've come to the first crossroads in parenthood. The one year mark. Even though I'm still not sure where that time went, we now find ourselves stuck in the weaning process. If you've never experienced this, it's when you gradually start the transfer from Mom milk to Moo milk. And it seems to be causing me some mixed emotions. So that brings me to:

Five Reasons I'm Torn About Ending Breastfeeding

1.) I'll finally get my body back. For almost two years now my body has belonged to this alien being. First as a studio apartment for my little embryonic darling, and then as a 24 hour wet bar. So really, it'll be nice to be able to have ME back. It's been so long that I might have to take myself out on a date to rediscover who we are. See if we still have that connection.

2.) On the other hand..... This is the final time that the ladies will have a job other than decorative flesh orbs for my husband to ogle. No matter how many times I've gone through it, I'm still amazed that a woman's body can grow and sustain an actual living person. So to have this be the last time I can perform a miracle and go back to just boring old non-miraculous me, well, it's disheartening to say the least. Now if I want to perform miracles I'm going to have to walk on water or cure cancer with my hands while I chant and let live poisonous snakes slither around my neck. Blech.

3.) And what about the convenience? Yes, I'll be honest, breastfeeding was so much easier for me than bottle feeding. Now I have to wash the bottles, buy the milk,  then heat it to his royal highness' perfect temperature, then repeat the process again in a few hours. Before I just whipped a boob out and popped it in his mouth. Okay, okay, crude yes, but you get the idea. It was always there, always ready and always the perfect temperature. I'll admit, I've been really spoiled.

4.) But let's not forget that this also means NO MORE PUMPING. Oh yeah, I'm pumped. About not pumping. What most people fail to realize is that breastfeeding takes a lot of work. Well, maintenance anyway. If I'm not feeding the baby, I have to express the milk to keep the supply up and to make bottles for the sitter to be able to feed the bambino while mama's working hard to bring home the bacon. If you don't do either of those things, those milk glands start filling up and pretty soon you'll be able to sympathize with your husband the next time he starts complaining about "blue balls".

"I don't want to hear no complainin'! You think that's bad, try having blue boobs! Ten times the size and just as uncomfortable!"

5.) Lastly, this also means that he's already starting the process of leaving. Because face it Mom, that's what growing up is. A bunch of small steps leaving you behind, until they're ready to leave the nest for good. Ultimately, that's what we're preparing them for, right? (If we do a good job, they leave and don't try to move back in after college!) But when it's the last child, and you know that the baby making factory has gone out of business, closed its doors, fired all its employees, and handed out severance packages, it's bittersweet. I'm always wondering if this feeding might be the final one and I won't have appreciated it enough. So to be proactive, I'm overly sensitive and weepy about every feeding now. Just to make sure that I'm not taking any of these last moments for granted. I'll probably end up making a spectacle (breastacle!) of myself, but I can always blame it on global warming. Or terrorists. Or the lack of a Sonic restaurant in our area.

If you read any of this and could relate, well, you've probably been through the nursing and weaning process yourself. If you read it and thought I'm crazy, well, you're probably not too far off the mark. But don't tell my kids, they still think I'm normal. Well, some of them anyway. Ok, ok, the youngest two. ALIGHT....at least the baby.