Here I Go Again On My Own
First things first: YOU ARE WELCOME, Internet, for me getting that awesome song stuck in your mind.
Really? There was a time when no one found that hair ridiculous? REALLY?!
I’m posting this update from my second Friday in the office. It’s a much quieter day than last Friday, which means time is CRAWLING, but I’m surviving. Last week went well – I had substantial work to do and actually stayed late to finish some things up (well, as late as my boobs would let me, because there was a hungry infant at home and OW OW OW my boobs). Pumping went fine – it seems that most nursing mothers in this office have, well, offices with doors in which to pump. Me and my cubicle? Not so much. It’s kind of a pain in the ass dragging the pump to the mysterious “Quiet Room” every few hours, but whatever. Also, it’s fucking 2009 – can technology not give us the gift of a SILENT breast pump?
It sounds like I’m on the fucking spin cycle in there.
I was talking to a pregnant coworker today about the whole labor/birth/caring for a newborn thing, and I told her that the most challenging thing so far has been breastfeeding. I was kind of surprised when I heard myself say it out loud: breastfeeding is more challenging than coaxing a human being out the ol’ brewster? More challenging than sleep deprivation? Weirder than suddenly HAVING A BABY in your house where there was no baby before? And yes, it kind of is. It’s just a little more…intense than I thought it would be, for good and for bad. I just didn’t spend a whole lot of time thinking about breastfeeding before I had Sadie because, frankly, I really didn’t expect to have much success. Let’s hear it for low expectations! Then she was born and on my boob within an hour of entering the world, and it just never stopped. And even then I really didn’t have time to think about it, because it just WAS. She needs fed every two hours or so, and there I am with my rack, ready to go. I have moments of pain and discomfort and occasional guilt-ridden thoughts of DAMN, this is just so inconvenient, and wouldn’t it be nice to have boobs that didn’t feel like ultra-sensitive raw nerve endings? But mostly, breastfeeding just IS. And that’s that.
Then, this past weekend, I met my mom and sister at an outlet mall about 30 minutes from my house to spend an ungodly amount of time and money in the Carter’s store. Maybe it was the fact that I’d spent the previous day at work, or maybe it was being surrounded by all those fucking adorable little clothes, but OH MY GOD did I miss Sadie. And not just the usual longing for her (that sometimes happens when she’s just asleep in the next room), but this was the kind of longing that sent me into a one-track thought process of how to get myself back to the baby as soon as humanly possible. By the time I left the outlet (which I was pretty much forced by my boobs to do, lest they rocket straight off my body), I was sweating with impatience to see her again. The freedom of being out by myself was no longer the fun little excursion it usually is. I wanted her in my arms. NOW. Or better yet: FIVE MINUTES AGO.
As soon as I got home, I scooped her up in my arms and sat down to feed her. And I didn’t feel pain or discomfort or a desire to be doing anything else. I felt…relief. To be back with her, nursing her, giving her something she needs – something no one else can give her. I let her clusterfeed for an hour until she finally fell off with a contented stretch and a sigh.
So…I get it. The breastfeeding thing. I mean, besides the health benefits of breastmilk and all that hoo-ha, I finally get it. And I’m so, so grateful it’s worked out for me. Now, this doesn’t mean I will be breastfeeding the little angel until she says, “Be right back,” and hops off my boob to walk across the auditorium stage and receive her high school diploma (once she gets teeth, ALL BETS ARE OFF say my nipples), but I’m definitely enjoying the time I have left to do this for her.
And that, my friends, is how you turn a quick update about work into paragraph upon paragraph about your damn funbags. Jesus Christ.
In other news, it seems Sadie is having a pretty decent time with Daddy today, no?
I know, Sadie. I told you he was awesome.
Entry filed under: Gobble-gobble.