A Trip Down Mammary Lane

As I am counting down the days until I can put the pump away (9!) I realize I have probably spent about 4 and 1/2 years breast feeding.  That is a lot of time spent with the mammaries! A1 lasted 23 months, A2 18 months, A3 is losing interest and patience at 12 months.  I am comfortable about this meal plan choice for my family and I am willing to talk about it with almost anyone who feels so inclined.  I know that the duration of feeding for each child has been a source of uneasiness for many of my friends.  They think I am crazy for lasting longer than 6 months.  I am ok with their uneasiness because they are not me and they really don't have to be comfortable with my choice because it really has no impact on their lives. 

I could go on and on preaching about all the positives; like my kids collectively have only had 2 ear infections or I burn a whole lot of calories sitting, but I won't because that isn't my style.  Besides that, this year hasn't been one for our family to brag about staying healthy. (although, while we were struck with the plague of 2013, A3 only had a minor run in with the illness) Also the fact that I have gained back most of the weight I lost after having A3 won't cause me to brag about burning calories, however my love for the golden arches may have something to do with that little problem...

Instead, I prefer to explain to my naysayers I breast feed for completely selfish reasons.  While nursing a baby I am assured at least 20 minutes of time off my feet.  I never was one to master feeding on the go in one of those wraps, it would be like walking and chewing gum... kind of. In the first month, after having a baby, I permitted myself time to sit and read while I was feeding one of the girls.  It was a great way to take a break every 2 hours or more often on cluster feeding days or when I was reading a really good book. :) As an introvert, I also used nursing as a way to regroup.  I require quiet time, time to myself and let's face it a new baby brings a lot of visitors.  I was able to use my baby (yes, I said it!) as a way to escape.  I could sneak off to my room and feed my baby in peace. 
Even with those self serving reasons I still have another, even greater reason for breast feeding; pure entertainment.  If I hadn't breast fed A2 and A3 I would have missed out on some bits of comedy gold from A1 and A2.  

Of course we have had the typical experiences of the girls "nursing" their dolls or them explaining to anyone who would listen that their sister doesn't drink from a bottle but from a "boobie" instead but we have others that made my face turn red for several minutes.  We have also had some that were simply innocently funny.  My favorite innocent story involved A1. It was really late and A1 was successfully doing her best to stall bedtime.  She curled up next to me, laid her head on my shoulder and asked, "How did the cows get in there?" Totally baffled I asked her what she was talking about.  She looked at me like I was from another planet and with the slightest hint of teenage attitude she said, "In your boobies.  How did a cow get in your boobies to make milk?" As hard as I tried not to laugh in order to protect her feelings, I couldn't stop the snorts, the tears, or the violent shoulder shakes.
   
A2's approach on the subject is a little bit more bold.  Last week when she went with me to musical rehearsal she was sitting with a group of high school boys and a male teacher and she yelled across the gym, "Mom can I use your boobie thing, you know that boobie cream?" The boys scattered, especially when I answered her like it was a completely normal question.  Which it was, because I use lanolin on the girls when their lips are chapped. I did talk to her on the way home about appropriate things to say but I am not sure that I was able to drive the point home since I snorted from laughter a few times. 

In the collective four and a half years that I have spent nursing the girls, I know that I have felt tied down and stuck at home at times. I have missed out on weekends away with friends.  I have stayed home instead of going out with friends.  I have opted for birthdays, NYE's, and St. Patrick's days to be at home.  I have eliminated certain foods from my diet.  Even with all the things I have had to sacrifice, I wouldn't want to give up any of the funny moments, the learning experiences, or the memories.

On to the next chapter...

Worry

For as long as I can remember I have been a worrier.  I have this unique talent to be able to worry about things that a normal person hasn't even heard of.  I can remember laying in bed at night in forth grade sobbing because I was convinced we were going to blow up in a nuclear bomb attack after reading a book I took home from the school library.  I am not one to support banning books but why in the world was this book in an elementary library and why on Earth was I allowed to read it?  I had to go back to sleeping with my closet light on because, as we all know, a closet light will save you from a nuclear bomb. 
This extreme worry was followed by me being convinced that I was going to die from AIDS.  As luck would have it I hadn't had any blood transfusions; nor was I a ten year old sexually active intravenous drug user.  I can still remember my mom sitting at the end of my bed, the room lit up with the soft glow of my closet light reflecting off the innocent pepto-pink walls talking to me about the ways people got AIDS and that I was not at risk. She even brought in a pamphlet. 
This worrying still haunts me today.  I am just able to control it. Kind of. 
I shouldn't be surprised that A1 is a worrier, should I? I should be more understanding.  I should be able to worry with her.  BUT I CAN'T!  Her constant worrying drives me insane!  She worries about whether or not the plastic toys in our house are poisonous (they probably are).  She worries that the toys made in China have lead paint (thanks, Mom). She worries that her ceiling fan will fall on her at night (my guess is that it would miss her and hit A2).  She worries that one day a bad guy will break in a steal stuff (could, but this would be the wrong house to hit).  She worries that we will be late everywhere we go (we are).  She worries that she will get sick after touching buttons in an elevator (but that doesn't stop her or her sister from fighting over who gets to push the elevator buttons).  And the list goes on and on and on and on!
Now that I think about these are all things I have at one time or another worried about.  Actually these are all things MY MOM has worried about... Now I am worried that I am turning into my mom and A1 is turning into me. 

Good luck A1!

And I will always let you sleep with the closet light on without questioning it! 

 

 

Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding Proverbs 3:5 NIV