Suburban Snapshots

Tested

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

On Monday morning I climbed out of the shower, started drying off, and squeezed milk out of my right breast. The left was equally productive.

This was troubling.

I've learned that the last place to turn when experiencing any sort of symptom is Google, so instead I posted to a group of women I trust and who — if you can believe it — I've overshared with more than I have on this blog.

You know that almost every one of those bitches practically insisted I was pregnant? Google started to seem like the preferable first opinion. (Actually it was incredibly sweet to watch the responses line up in favor of an encore for my reproductive system, so much that - SPOILER ALERT - I hated letting them down three negative pregnancy tests later.)



You wouldn't have known it by the way my hand trembled each of the three times I tried to hold that stick still and not pee up to my armpit, but I wasn't horrified by the prospect of a positive result. With Anna, I was pretty much beside myself until she emerged wet and warm and a girl.

Then I remembered that my long torso made for a mostly comfortable pregnancy, how I loved seeing her movements through the skin of my belly, how she'd latched perfectly minutes after she was born and how much I enjoyed nursing her. I felt pretty confident that I could be a mom to two, and happy that I knew either result would have turned out okay.

And that was all I needed. Now I know that my decision to have one child isn't based on the worry that I couldn't handle two. I've wondered if that was really the reason I protested, if somewhere I do want more kids but am too afraid to commit. And now I know that it's not.

I like the ease of one kid, and my body recovered pretty well from my pregnancy. I have the luxury of free time, and together we have a good amount of couple time. We're both pushing 40.

So I don't wonder whether I'm being honest with myself about being happy with just one. Now what I wonder is if I can capitalize on this milk thing until I get my c-cups back.

blog comments powered by Disqus