I haven't been feeling very victorious lately. Vivi has settled back into being hell on two legs. I'm tired and stressed out which is really getting on my husband's nerves. (At least that is what he reports anyway.) And, to top it off, my pants are tight. Today I just gave in to the misery of it all and put on yoga pants. The same yoga pants I wore all throughout my pregnancy with the Turtles.
SHOOT. ME. NOW.
SHOOT. ME. NOW.
I think I know what my problem is though. I weaned Jude and Ellie.
You see, before I took off to NC, I had managed to get the Turtles down to one nursing session a day. It was at 5 a.m. and it was so bloody uncomfortable, I was eager to be done with the whole breastfeeding thing as soon as possible. I wasn't crazy about the idea of forcing it by leaving town but because I wasn't really on top of getting it done beforehand, that's what had to be done. I left the state with my breast pump in my bag and hoped for the best.
Well, as it turns out, I never needed the breast pump because I didn't have any milk left. (Huh, guess that's why nursing was so uncomfortable.) Jude and Ellie woke up while I was away but all they wanted to do was snuggle. (Huh, guess they didn't need those feedings anyway.) I was pretty clueless but it all managed to work out. The babies hardly seemed to miss it and I was saved the mastitis nightmare I endured when I "weaned" Vivi. A disaster I was glad not to have repeated.
This forced end to breastfeeding has left me all discombobulated though. I've put on five pounds and I feel raw and vulnerable. On the one hand, I am so glad to be done. On the other hand, I am sad it's over. My babies aren't really babies and since I won't be having any more, I feel like it all went way too fast. Then, of course, I remind myself that I would NEVER REPEAT the first year of their lives. Then I feel bad that I feel that way.
Like I said, shoot me now. (But before you do, could you bring me some chocolate cake and a margarita?)