Free the Ta Tas!!

When I was pregnant with Jack I had a dream.  You know the kind.  The really terrifying pregnancy dreams.  In my dream, I had just given birth to a 20 pound baby.  The baby was crying and obviously hungry.  I held the baby closer to try breastfeeding for the first time when suddenly, the baby's neck grew long, the head morphed into a plant, and there before me was a Venus Fly Trap.  Ready to nurse.  Horrific fangs and all.

This was my subconscious letting me know how I was really feeling about breastfeeding.  In all honesty, I almost didn't even try.  But, Jack was born and I decided to give it a go.  I hated it.  Every single minute.  I hated the lactation nurse feeling me up trying to get things together, I hated having to excuse myself to a private room and miss out on everything while the little parasite went to work, and I hated feeling like my body wasn't mine.  Jack and I both threw in the towel at 4 months.

When Luke was born I decided that I would try it again.  Just to see if I was being a baby about it the first time.  I wanted to make sure that I really, truly hated it.  Plus, he was born in the winter and I figured some extra antibodies from me couldn't hurt.  Luke was a better nurser than Jack, but once again, I hated it.  I hated being the only one that could get up at night with the baby.  I hated trying to breastfeed while I had a toddler climbing all over me.  Again, we only made it 4 months.

When I found out I was pregnant with the twins I cried when I thought about nursing two babies.  Then I cried harder when I calculated the cost of formula for two babies.  I decided that I wouldn't make the final decision until they were born.  I would possibly try nursing two to see how it went and if I hated it, I had no problem quitting.  But, when they were born so early, breastfeeding wasn't even an option.  They were too little and didn't have the physical capabilities to even try.  So, I pumped.  I pumped every 3 hours from the moment they were born.  I had more than enough milk for the twins.  We had to buy a deep freezer. I pumped about 20 ounces every 3 hours. The NICU nurses joked that I could feed the whole NICU.  Around the time the twins would have been 35 weeks, the nurses asked me if I wanted to start breastfeeding them.  I said no.  A firm no.  I had made the decision.  Pumping was a pain, but way easier.  By the time the babies came home, I had filled 7 cubic feet of freezer and was dumping whatever they didn't take.  Then 5 days later we found out Charlie was allergic to milk protein and couldn't have breast milk in any form. 

So, I continued to pump for Tripp.  Just half time since he didn't need all that I made.  Last month we started noticing signs that Tripp is becoming allergic to my milk as well.  Makes sense since they are identical.  I stopped pumping completely and started him on the freezer milk because there is no way in h#$@ I am going to let that milk go to waste.  The hours I could have been sleeping while they were in the NICU!!  The annoying sound of that pump!  No way.  He is drinking every last drop before that allergy totally kicks in. 

This is when I decided that mother nature is a real B.  Ironic that I make more than enough milk for quadruplets, and my kids are allergic.

So, the moral of this incredibly long and probably inappropriate post is that my boobs are free.  Since these are my last babies, I am celebrating that I never have to agonize over the "to nurse or not to nurse" question, I never have to feel guilty around La Leche League-ers again, I never have to take off my shirt in weird places to feed a baby, I never have to put ice packs on my boobs, and I can sleep on my stomach again.  All night long.

Sweet relief, the Ta Tas (or what used to look like boobs, but now resemble raisins) are free!!