I wonder when I'm old and wrinkled (well, even more than I am now, that is) if I'll remember how it feels to need to get the milk out. The burn. The drop. The pain. Or the feeling of pressure that comes about as soon as I hook myself up to the pump? How it builds until I think my mammaries are going to explode but then – MILK! Comes on out!
Do we remember these things? Or do they just fade away, like the vague remembrance that childbirth hurts an awful lot?
My Milkful Life is taming down, thanks in no small part to the fact that little Miss Moxie is getting really good at opening her mouth. And this is no small part due to the fact that we switched bottles, from Born Free to Breastflow. We used Breastflow with Micah, but then stopped when we learned they were not BPA free. They've changed though, thank God, and we can use 'em. They rock… they force the baby's mouth open wide and also have the slowest flow out there. They are sooooo slow that Moxie was getting pissed when we switched her from slowflow BornFree… Yep. She was giving us the same "are you guys kidding me? Is this for real?" expression that Micah was giving us when we thought it would be funny to put a slowflow nipple on his bottle instead of a fastflow. And it was. Super funny!
Yesterday I only pumped once. Can you believe it? And she didn't get any formula at all. My baby's needs were completely met straight from the source.
I'm pretty proud. Proud of me, proud of her. And most of all, knowing that anything can happen at anytime, completely savouring this beautiful moment.