I literally worked my ta-tas off to earn my breastfeeding badge. There were times I thought I might cave under the pressure that comes with being the food, but this one woman dairy has managed to kept the factory in production for two babies, about a year and a half each. My mammaries stuck by me through mastitis, norovirus and the healing of a nipple, partially severed by bite. After paying dues like that, it’s hard to believe I’ll actually miss the whole thing. But I will. Because…
1. I don’t feel as important. Technically, any yahoo off the street can now do my job.
2. I can’t boob the baby back to sleep when she wakes up at o’dark thirty, thinking it’s morning.
3. The post-lactation moment of truth: arrival at ultimate breast shape, size and consistency. (Bye-bye, boobies.)