I go to the bathroom during my break. Lock myself in the handicap stall. Hear other people peeing or having the occasional bout of diarrhea or gas. Each time, I wonder what they think of my sounds and that person with a bag that's locked in the handicap, standing there, boots facing the wall. It's really just a lovely process. Sometimes I have to force myself to do it. I have to think about it, check myself out. Am I hard as a rock? Can I go a little more time before continuing the slow process of tendonitis with my $35 manual pump? How much milk do I have stored? Do I have to?
I actually like breastfeeding the Animalia. That's right, I'm a dirty hippie earth mother type deep down inside. I just feel such a sense of accomplishment. Yesterday, when siyeh commented on how sturdy she felt I did a little dance inside. It's kind of nice to be able to think "yeah, I did that. She's all huge because of me and ridiculously large chest."
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2 comments:
Jesus, woman! Invest in the electric.
Oh, I didn't tell you. I'm getting a Medela Symphony. My sister-in-law has given up breastfeeding and isn't going to use it so my mother-in-law volunteered the pump for my use. Here's hoping they don't change their minds.
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