Milking It
There is an ulterior motive to this trip and it’s formally known as “operation weaning.” My daughter is almost fourteen months and uses me as a night time pacifier so I’ve decided to take back my boobs and help her sleep less restlessly in the process. The idea is all well and good except for the fact that Matt and I are distraught to leave her for the week (okay, Matt’s distraught, I’m distraught and balancing ticking time bombs on my chest. When these babies go off it won’t be pretty) and the fact that my boobies are growing by the minute. I always wanted my boobs to grow magically overnight but I can’t say adopting the ability to offer strangers a refreshing glass of milk at will was part of that fantasy.
Sure, it’s painful. I feel the slight heat in the lumpy tissue beneath my fingers, the hardened shell of what once was an average looking breast. But the sting runs a little deeper knowing this chapter of my life is coming to a close. Knowing my baby is growing up.
Between milkings I glance at the empty car seat out of habit. I absently rifle through my purse for cheerios or a sippy cup. And when I realize there’s no need for any of those things right now, I become a little sadder.
Maybe a glass of milk would cheer me up…
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Thanks for the guest post, today, Ericka. I hope you are enjoying your vacation. Don't forget to leave her lots of milky love on her blog. If you don't know who she is, you are really missing out!! Hope you are having a great weekend!
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