Lactating is kind of like a warm little secret. When you are sitting on a bus, no one around you but you knows you are lactating. The ghost image of your nursing baby is not hanging from your chest like a Christmas ornament when you are shopping. But you know it. You're doing something, even though no one can see it. It's biological multi-tasking. While you work, think, read, bathe, not only are your heart, lungs, brain, kidneys, liver, etc. all working for you (hopefully, and hopefully not against you), you are making milk for your little creature. It binds us to the rest of the mammalian animal community. It reminds us of our biological nature. It ties us to the most fundamental activities of survival.
Ok. Maybe that's just me.
babywhumpus is still nursing, and still enjoying it. Which is good. If he were just doing it for my benefit, that would be both sad and weird, and not a little frightening. It's only about three or four times a day, and I am no longer pumping, but every morning, he points to the livingroom where Pillow awaits. Some mornings, if he is up with daddywhumpus first, he drags the pillow to me. When we get home from day care, he points to couch and Pillow. And before he goes to bed, it's Mama Snack time. When he's not repeatedly slapping me for fun, I enjoy it. These are quiet times that we won't have for much longer (though the slapping will undoubtedly continue), and I know I will miss them when he's done.
Not only am I not pumping, but I am now running on only one boob. Lefty was not the most productive member of the team, but I kept it going, pumping and switching the boy back and forth, but a few weeks ago, I just... let it go. It feels odd to be running on only one cylinder, but even a full-time nursing baby can be fed with one boob, so this should be a piece of cake.
And besides, nobody knows that one of them doesn't work anymore because nobody knows that both of them ever worked.
It's my little secret.