There are flashes of moments where I am reminded of weakness. I put those moments in the “low-esteem” bin on my memory shelf.

The first time I breast – fed Seal #1, it failed due to inexperience, lack of knowledgeable support, and lack of hunger on the part of the Seal himself.

The second time I breast – fed Seal #2, it worked for 4 months. But then I screwed up. I should not have stopped pumping. My life was encompassed with pumping and direct feeding, and I hated it. I would get the urge to do ANYTHING but pump from the machine. It was equivalent to drinking the horrendously bitter fluid during colonscopy -prep, or reading a very dry portion of the MPEP (manual of patent examiners and practictioners) while wearing potato – chip contact lenses at the end of a expansive day.

Feed the newborn directly? Sure. After 10 minutes he and I were both done. Then he changed his mind. My nipple hurt like bitch. Forget tingling – imagine shooting pains growing from the brown eye to the neck. I hated it when it took so long, or when he nursed for comfort. Come on already! I’m impatient, you need to feed and grow! You are a preemie, you can’t just bite and play around, making me confused as to whether you are getting nourishment or sexually pleasing me.

Please, my children, do not get cancer. That is what society has warned me against. Don’t breast feed for a year? Get cancer. Get abnormal IQ.

My body felt amazing after 9 months of pregnancy. I was refreshed, unlike most new Moms. I was tired and bored out of my mind, but at least my body was agreeing with me sans hormone influx and valve pressures in the body. I wanted to read (my eyes didn’t water anymore!), I wanted to eat (I could taste food w/o the inflamed membranes).

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