They hurt. Like someone slammed them in a door. Separately. Then together. I have had such a hard struggle with weaning Gibson off the boob milk. Aside from the pain I'm in. It has taken such a toll emotionally on me. Every time he cries I feel like he's screaming for my milk. It's enough to make a nun go bald. I did good. I fed him strictly from the breast (by way of a bottle, he never learned to latch) for eight months. More than I can say for most people. I just wish this decision didn't hinge on so many other things. Not one single thing I wanted to happen while pregnant or during birth went right. This has been the only thing I could control. And now.... I'm weaning. I am fricken caught between, once again.
It can't just be an easy thing for me. Nothing ever is. I was doing pretty well with the amount of my milk supply. Then we went to Puerto Rico (which was HEAVEN) came home and WHAM! STREEEEESSSS!! Not really that conducive to getting the ol juices flowing. Then I get sick and the drugs the Dr prescribed wouldn't allow me to feed him the milk anyway. It just went farther downhill. So here I am, aching tits and all. Wishing I would have pushed harder to keep it going. Is it because I'm having a hard time accepting the fact he's getting so big, SO fast? I just want the absolute best for this kid. If that means my last breath, so be it. I know the kid's going to live without the milk but, can he and his Dad live with me while I go without?
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