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I am horribly traumatized after going evening gown shopping. Cinderella can't go to the ball if her boobs don't fit in her dress. Not that I didn't have such issues before pregnancy. My pre-pregnancy bust size was a 36DD, after all. Now it's like a 40ZZZ or something horrendous. My waist is back to normal. I'm back in my pre-pregnancy pants (even if they're a wee bit tight). But I can't get any dresses zipped, even in a size 14... by a good two inches. I don't know what to do. I guess I need to find a store that carries plus size dresses, then have the rest of the dress taken in. That sounds crazily expensive and unnecessary. Just another reason why I hate breastfeeding.

I do, I hate breastfeeding. Yes, there's an angry mob of La Leche militants coming for me, but I don't care. Even when she's nursing, I don't find it enjoyable whatsoever. Apparently Cora doesn't find it all that enjoyable either, it tends to piss her off. I don't need to stick my boob in my daughter's mouth in order to bond with her. (Wasn't that bond created when she was in the womb? Or when she came plowing out of my vagina, wreaking havoc on my girl parts? Or in caring for her for the past seven weeks of her life?) And I actually like feeding her with a bottle much better. I get to look at her and see her progress, and know how much she's eaten. Plus, Husband gets to feed his daughter too (and he really likes that).

Granted, we've had a tough go of it. Cora never did latch on before her surgery; I don't think she could breathe well enough to do it. The bottle was enough work for her. So, I was pumping in order to give her breast milk. Since her surgery, she does latch on now. But she gets bored with it after about ten minutes, stops nursing and screams at me until I give her a bottle. So, I'm still pumping. I'm not quite producing enough milk because she won't nurse enough, so we're still supplementing with formula. (Which is fine by me, she stays full longer during the night with the formula.) I can't even tell you what the crazy milking device does to my nipples, not to mention the times when Cora tries to take off a nip. The lanolin stuff helps, although it smells nasty, and you just can't wash it off your fingertips afterwards (I've taken to applying it with latex gloves). Then there's the time commitment. Not only do I have to feed her, but then I have to follow it up with pumping, so it's even more time consuming.

I'm still doing it, of course, and I'm hoping to be able to keep it up until she's six months old, although realistically I might have to stop at three months. With all of Cora's health problems, she can use all the help she can get. And she seems to like it better than the formula (although she actually yacks up less of the formula, maybe because it's thicker). But I can't wait until this nonsense is finally over, and I can fully have my body back to myself. I can have boobs that don't hurt, and nipples that aren't so sore I want to scream when being milked. I can go out and not have to plan to be back within four hours because otherwise my boobs will explode. I can drink large amounts of alcohol. I can wear normal sized clothes again, not including bras that look like I borrowed them from Dolly Parton. I can feel like a human being again, instead of eternally pregnant. Oh I can't wait.

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