Jugs? Cmon high schoolers, be more creative. Also, this essay remind me of the gift my high school besties gave me for my 16th bday: a shirt with an arrow pointing up that said “She’s up here.” I think I am farther away from nursing my girls now, and I don’t really miss it, as it was stressful with the last one, but I do find myself in a funny stage of renegotiating my feelings toward these old gals. Once they were for looks and then they were for function- and so now what?
I breastfed my youngest until he was 2-1/2, until the day he pulled away and said in his chirpy little voice, "This is silly Mom." Harsh.
Still working on the "love your body" thing. My nickname in middle school and high school was Phyllopotamus, gifted to my by Peter, the jerk who sat behind me in 7th grade Social Studies. This of course meant I was undesirable, which, as a high school girl in the mid 60s, was a death knell, a curse that imprinted itself deep within my cells. I hope to make some progress in this regard before I leave my body behind for good.
Loved this. I'm now down to breastfeeding my one-year-old twice a day, first thing and last thing, and it feels special and manageable rather than so draining I might actually die, like it did in the beginning when I was doing it for ten hours a day. I'm dreading the moment she wants to stop. I too have been lugging round massive boobs all my life and honestly they've been nothing but a literal and metaphorical pain, so I'm glad to have finally got some use out of them.
It's so good when it hits that sweet spot, when you don't feel like you're the only thing keeping them alive and it is just this little treat between the two of you!
God, you are such a beautiful writer. This is perfect. I still tear up when I think about how the last time I fed my youngest I didn’t *know* it was the last time (and he’s 16 now, wtf). Also I wish I had photos.
Just loved this! Love reading about breastfeeding and the body. And this: "So having a body at all is an act of reclamation, is what I'm saying." -- beautiful. I nursed my wee one til 2 & 1/2 and he was ready to let go, even if I wasn't quite. We had such a battle to get started that I felt each day that I nursed was a quiet, fleshy, wonderful celebration.
Currently listening to my third baby's little gulps as she grabs my hair in her chubby fist. Very much relate to this post. I feel so much more comfortable in my postpartum rearranged body than I ever did in my twenties.
I read this while breastfeeding. You are brilliant. I can't say anything more articulate, this was just perfect.
Also bf a toddler is wild - today he said to my nipple "Boobie, do you know about triceratops?" Does she?? Probably. Boobs know things.
Bahahahhaa!!! BOOBS KNOW EVERYTHING
Jugs? Cmon high schoolers, be more creative. Also, this essay remind me of the gift my high school besties gave me for my 16th bday: a shirt with an arrow pointing up that said “She’s up here.” I think I am farther away from nursing my girls now, and I don’t really miss it, as it was stressful with the last one, but I do find myself in a funny stage of renegotiating my feelings toward these old gals. Once they were for looks and then they were for function- and so now what?
I breastfed my youngest until he was 2-1/2, until the day he pulled away and said in his chirpy little voice, "This is silly Mom." Harsh.
Still working on the "love your body" thing. My nickname in middle school and high school was Phyllopotamus, gifted to my by Peter, the jerk who sat behind me in 7th grade Social Studies. This of course meant I was undesirable, which, as a high school girl in the mid 60s, was a death knell, a curse that imprinted itself deep within my cells. I hope to make some progress in this regard before I leave my body behind for good.
I am so grateful for this comment, and for your attention! You really got me thinking about desire...
I wrote a poem-like thing about my breasts in response to one of Jeannine Oullette's prompts. Surprised my own self with what emerged.
Loved this. I'm now down to breastfeeding my one-year-old twice a day, first thing and last thing, and it feels special and manageable rather than so draining I might actually die, like it did in the beginning when I was doing it for ten hours a day. I'm dreading the moment she wants to stop. I too have been lugging round massive boobs all my life and honestly they've been nothing but a literal and metaphorical pain, so I'm glad to have finally got some use out of them.
It's so good when it hits that sweet spot, when you don't feel like you're the only thing keeping them alive and it is just this little treat between the two of you!
God, you are such a beautiful writer. This is perfect. I still tear up when I think about how the last time I fed my youngest I didn’t *know* it was the last time (and he’s 16 now, wtf). Also I wish I had photos.
They really should announce BEFORE they've decided to quit. Give a girl a minute!
Just loved this! Love reading about breastfeeding and the body. And this: "So having a body at all is an act of reclamation, is what I'm saying." -- beautiful. I nursed my wee one til 2 & 1/2 and he was ready to let go, even if I wasn't quite. We had such a battle to get started that I felt each day that I nursed was a quiet, fleshy, wonderful celebration.
Currently listening to my third baby's little gulps as she grabs my hair in her chubby fist. Very much relate to this post. I feel so much more comfortable in my postpartum rearranged body than I ever did in my twenties.
Also third baby jealousy!!!!
Yes! I’m unrecognizable and yet so much more at home.