Not sure what it is… but every time I feel down, upset, angry, impotent, devastated, and the like—-I LOVE to cook!!! not just your usual mexican household dinner, ie. albondigas, caldo de res, birria, barbacoa, rice and beans! NO! I like to go all out!!! Fancy Schmancy, out of my comfort zone (read budget) and cultural background. To give you a better idea, on last year’s Valentine’s Day—after noticing my husband of 15 years doesn’t give a crap anymore!—-I answered to his indifference and selfish persona by cooking a marvelous dinner!… Bacon wrapped scallops on top of pea and caper puree, dressed with a balsamic reduction; a side of asparagus with lemon butter; I purchased a sourdough baguette and a bottle of wine, and to top it off ( are you about to guess…dessert??) NOPE!… Shrimp!… Yup! I had to strategically place a cooked medium size shrimp on EVERYTHING I cooked! —-The why?? My dearest husband is allergic! Hell Yeah! Smelled wonderful and it was ALL for ME!!!! I love my bitterness! PAy back is a b#@$%!!! If you don’t care, don’t expect me to!!!
This is a difficult thing to admit, because before pregnancy, I’ve got to say, I had a pretty impressive rack. Every day, nicely filling up a [full] 34C, the girls made me proud. At the time, I’d heard of the lactivist mothers, those insisting that, as a society, we have over-sexualized breasts when their real role in life is pure function. They’re meant to feed babies—- I guess I understand—-But I liked my sexy boobs!!! And so did my husband!…Now, you know where that led… now we have a baby.
Even before my baby was born, breastfeeding was my choice. My mom, although was physically unable to breatfeed, she used cloth diapers, made her own baby food, nurturing, loving(sometimes overbearing) mother—- So, naturally, I wanted to be a good mother…make my mom proud, you know—— plus it just seemed practical, cheap, and easy.
My endowment was a joke through my entire pregnancy. Hyped up on hormones and weight gain, the girls swelled to an impressive 38DD by the time I was in labor, I knew my baby was going to be well fed! Right there in the hospital, my baby latched immediately, sucking away like it was what she’d been made to do. The nurses were pleased, the lactation consultant was impressed, and I was beaming with pride that my daughter and I already worked so well together as a team.
But after a few days, something just didn’t seem right any more; and sure enough, at her first well baby check-up, she had lost nearly 15 percent of her birth weight. While we fumbled through the unexpected practice of bottle feeding and countless hours of pumping, I also struggled with immense amounts of guilt: I had starved my child, I wasn’t healthy enough, I was doing something wrong, OMG! I have failed as a mother! Ahhhhh!!!
Thankfully, I had a doctor willing to talk about low supply and the effects my induction may have had on my milk. Two months later, pumping eight to ten times a day, I was still only producing an ounce a day at most. I had to make the decision to no longer exhaust myself, and that’s when I began full-time formula feeding. My baby was fine… She loved to eat, she was now a healthy weight, and I’d come to appreciate the convenience of bottle feeding. It wasn’t what I’d pictured initially, but then what is motherhood anyway?
While I noted daily the benefits of bottle feeding, charging myself along, I also anxiously awaited the return of my normal body. I was a bit impatient in this, and I soon realized the traumatic truth: without breastfeeding, my body would not so easily loose nature’s hold on stored fat. After all, breastfeeding can burn at least 500 calories a day, and between that and regularly lifting 15 pounds of pudge and drool, most mommies can expect to squeeze back into their jeans within a few months.
Not so much with the bottle! And in my vanity—I possessed so much more than I’d ever realized!—what I mourned the most was the loss of my blessed bosoms. They did not only deflated as I’d anticipated, but the stretched skin is still there; six months into motherhood, and I’m still squeezing into a cup size larger than I was pre-pregnancy. And even worse, their notable decrease really was deflation. I now have two sagging stress ball balloons hanging from my chest——-And also they don’t work!!!
May I ask you, oh ye lactivists, what is to be done with my chest??? What do you do when your boobs are neither sexual nor functional? What are they then?!
You should all be ashamed to be doing this kind of propaganda!! Could you please attach a discount coupon for the plastic surgeon’s with your useless breastfeeding pamphlets so we can at least know what to expect after the amazing bonding experience…yeah! The one that leaves your baby hungry and your boobs bleed until they give up and die (read sag)! Please do us all mothers a favor and focus on something else!!! Do some good for the environment …Picking paper over plastic…driving a hybrid…or the pros about recycling…yeah…I totally vote for that!!