"Show ... me ... ya boobs"

That title is lovingly dedicated to Bill.

I've been meaning to rant on this topic, and after the pediatrician's visit the other day (when Dr. B said that he just asks that we feed the baby), and after talking to a coworker about her recent breastfeeding struggles, I wrote this up. Not comprehensive, but you get the point.

When it comes to breastfeeding, I was totally against it. Not for other people -- I think you should do whatever is right for you and your baby -- but against it for myself. And I was totally against those women who say that it's never a question, and that you're a bad mother if you don't, and that it's so easy and natural and that's why God made us. Blah, blah, blah.

I don't know how I feel about having someone attached to my boob all the time ... being at someone's beck and call ... never wanting my husband to touch me because "these are working boobs now" ... or having to sit around in a bathroom stall at work, looking at a picture of my child so that pumping is "easier" (I've read that as a suggestion for encouraging the flow of the milk or whatever, but doesn't that just seem creepy to you?) ...

But with all of these reasons NOT to breastfeed, there is only one reason to breastfeed: the baby.

I don't know what I'm going to do yet, and I won't until it happens. And no, it's no one else's business, either way, what I decide.

As long as that baby is healthy and happy, nothing else matters.