People are always shocked when I tell them that I just don’t make milk. Looks of disbelief, people thinking i’m making it up as an excuse not to breastfeed, i’ve gotten all kinds of reactions. Not that I like to talk about my booby milk or lack thereof, but when people ask I really don’t feel like getting into a debate on why I just don’t want to breastfeed so the easiest thing to say is that I don’t make milk- and i’m not lying.. I really don’t.
In the months before Holden came I had leaky boob syndrome. I’d wake up and the inside of my bra would be crusty (and sometimes i’d get stuck to them, ew.. and yes, I wear a bra to bed), or i’d randomly leak a little bit out of nowhere- but it was nothing compared to the other pregnant women I knew who would literally soak the fronts of their shirts. Never once did that happen to me, or even come close.
Although I knew I absolutely did not want to breastfeed, I had decided to pump just to be able to give Holden some breastmilk.. and selfishly because I was told time and time again that it would help my uterus contract back to normal more quickly and help me to lose weight. I’m not sure about the weight- but my uterus definitely went down more quickly with how much I was attempting to pump.. but I honestly never got enough milk for the time I was spending on it to be remotely worthwhile.
Spending HOURS pumping (I spent 15 minutes on each side, sometimes 30, around 7 times per day) and only getting 3oz total for the entire day? When your kid is eating 3 ounces per feeding? To say it was frustrating would be an understatement.
Still, I tried to persevere and kept it up every single day for about 7 weeks, until Holden’s reflux got to the point where I couldn’t even get finished pumping one boob before he was screaming bloody murder, and that was it for me. The pump got put away.
With two kids in the house, I knew that unless my cups runneth over, pumping was going to be out of the question. I knew I just wouldn’t have that kind of time to dedicate to sitting with my boob in a suction cup hoping to get a couple of drops to squeeze out.
The last few months of pregnancy came along.. and not a single drop. I’d gone up almost 3 full cup sizes, and no leakage whatsoever. I had a sneaking suspicion that I just wouldn’t be making any milk at all.
The nurses in the hospital tried to ‘warn’ me that on day 4 after giving birth that my milk would probably come in, and started suggesting ways to dry it up.. they definitely didn’t believe that my tatas are not milk makers either.
I’m not one to completely shoot down something that could very well be possible- i’ve been surprised way too many times before to write something off so easily.. so I waited..
Day 4: I get out of the shower, dry off, graze my right boob with my arm and feel something wet. Sure enough, it’s MILK! I knew my boobs had felt bigger that day, and were hard enough to mistake as fake pornstar implants. I thought: this is it! milk! Oh no! I’m going to be engorged and it’s going to kill me.
They stayed that way for a few days, but no more leakage whatsoever. No, i’m not going to TRY to get milk out of them by squeezing a nip or anything ridiculous like that. I’m not going to encourage it, but if they wanted to be leaky faucets then i’d pump and deal..
but nope, no leaky faucets.
Day 8: I wake up, do our morning routine of breakfast and feedings and potty times and all that jazz and then go into the bathroom to change. Looking in the mirror.. I notice something is not quite right.
Lo and behold, the boobs are easily a full cup size smaller than the day before.
HAH! No milk. Just as I thought. As quickly as I thought it had come, it left without a fight.
Even today, boobs are even smaller.. and really kind of sad looking. I always hope that maybe i’ll get to keep SOME of the excess, and never do. Instead I end up losing fullness and having sad postpartum empty boobs.
I’m glad to not have to struggle to get rid of milk, and essentially waste something that would be beneficial for my kid if I were to have a plethora of it.. Am sad to see my huge fake looking boobs go, and with them, my super cute bras that I bought just for how large they got.
Person on tv: Age is just a number! 10yo: Yeah, a number that pulls you closer to death.
Party animal over here pic.twitter.com/OVpKPuu4Yc
Proving to my kids that they ARE Friends goo.gl/fb/QbSSNp
Writing my next book Me: My period inspired a whole new chapter! Husband: Your lack of period inspired a whole book... Me: pic.twitter.com/fpNHwnYeAF
The card my kid made me at school. I truly don't know why I expected anything different 😂😂 pic.twitter.com/T7nai0ycqS
Valentine's Day before 4pm and I'm already putting on pajamas because my uterus is bloated to the size of a Buick and erupting like Mount Vesuvius so I guess you could say I'm feeling PRETTY romantic.