Boobs

I like my new, bulging, veiny boobs. They're big, which is kind of fun for me since I was never very well endowed. They squish together to make the most magnificent cleavage, and I enjoy that in one or two particular dresses that never did look quite right at the neckline. My best friend Amanda sometimes has a hard time taking her eyes off it, actually, and we giggle a lot about how entranced a person can become, just at the sight of my vast expanse of boobage.

But there's a lot about this whole lactating thing that I did not expect, still don't understand, and am often confused about. For example, why does one side feel like hot needles are being stabbed into my areola when he nurses, and the other side feels like butterflies tickling me? Why does he choke and gag on the apparently uber-fast flow of the right side, and lazily lap at the lolly-gagging stream on the left? Why do my boobs turn into giant bursting melons at 4 am instead of conveniently sleeping through the night now that he does?

My doula has suggested I contact a lactation consultant, and my husband tells me to call my midwife (so I can ask what will probably turn out to be yet another humiliatingly ignorant questions? No, thank you!) but I am so delirious and overwhelmed by such simple tasks as brushing my teeth (haven't done that yet today and it's 6pm) and unloading the dishwasher (which seems to take an hour) that by the time it occurs to me to call some La Leche person and beg for help, it's 11pm and I am falling into bed like a redwood tree in the forest. I half expect my husband to yell, "TIMBER" one of these days. No, I will just continue to be mystified at my milk makers. Sometimes not knowing is fun. Right...?