It’s been twelve hours since the last time I pumped. And my boobs aren’t sore. They’re only slightly tender to the touch. I’m squishing them around right now, and they don’t feel full. In a little bit, I will pump them, and I’ll probably get three ounces of milk out of each one. But I’ll remember the days when I used to get seven.
Long gone are the days when I had rock hard boobies, so engorged, I could flex my pecs and squirt you in the eye through my shirt. I have no more use for cold compresses, hot compresses, breast pads, lanolin… no, none.
I remember hating having Twin Peaks sitting on my chest because I couldn't sleep on my stomach. Oh, but how the tide has turned. I’m sad. I miss them. Their absence means my baby is thisclose to not needing my milk. Very, very soon my boobies won’t be necessary. They’ll just be your everyday, run-of-the-mill 'flap jacks'. No more milk. No more baby needing mommy.
Is it Monday?