Alert: this posts includes discussion of breastfeeding and barely anything about ballet. If you think boobs are gross, maybe just go back and look at yesterday’s post. But if you think it’s awesome what all the human body can get up to, from babies to ballet, read on.
I was at this party last fall when I realized that it is impossible to talk to other mothers.
See, there was this other mother there, with a baby about the same age as my baby, and I wanted to talk to her about weaning and stuff but before I could say anything I had this entire conversation in my mind:
me: “Are you still nursing? Oh! Haha! I don’t mean like that, like Still Nursing like its a bad thing or anything, I just meant like ’cause I am! Still nursing. But I mean if you’re not still nursing that’s totally cool…and like if you never nursed at all, that’s, like, that’s cool too of course, I mean I’m not trying to judge or anything I just maybe wanted to talk…about…um…oh FFS fuck it, never mind, have you seen a quiet corner where I can put my foot in my mouth? I have to go now.”
And then I basically avoided her the rest of the evening.
So now it’s almost summer, and as of last week the baby is officially weaned, aka no longer nursing, aka a huge step in independence for him, and for me, aka he is totally fine with this new world order and I thought I was too until yesterday, when the adrenaline of throwing all my nursing bras in the trash (See You In Hell, Overly Cute Polkadots With A Bow!!!!) and the excitement of returning to underwire had settled a bit, and I suddenly felt really sad.
Like physically sad. Like a sad that radiated from deep with in my body, and my mind was like, Dude, what are you doing? I am the one in charge of emotions here! And my body was like Ha Ha that is what you think.
(I’m always kind of impressed when my body reminds my mind who is really the boss.)
I would say the sadness was about 50% hormones, 25% actual emotion from my brain, and the rest tiredness from not sleeping because of the previous 75%.
I mean, I am sad with my mind that my days don’t start with a snuggly nursing baby anymore, I miss that, but I’m also proud of my baby for being, like, fully his own entity now, and I wanna give my body a high-five for all it’s done, but at the same time the deep body sadness was making me do not normal things like cry at Bonnie Raitt songs.
Ridiculous! I’ve heard Nobody’s Girl a million times! Nothing to cry about there! (Ok maybe. A little. KIT Adult Beginner, Keep It Together)
Anyway, so I went to the internet to see if this deep physical sadness is a thing that happens -because unlike other mothers, the internet probably won’t get all offended at my pryful questions- and found that yes, this is normal, hormones lolz etc, and also found a remedy that was so bizarre and wonderful I immediately slid off the couch and into the front yard and picked a ton of jasmine, went back inside, stuffed my bra full of flowers, and took a nap.
Crushed fresh jasmine flowers. Applied directly. Not for the sadness but to help decrease milk production and thereby stop the lumpiness. Did I mention the lumps? Maybe a certain percent of the sadness was just plain old discomfort.
Whether the jasmine actually did the trick or not, I really love that just for a minute I was not a sad and lumpy mother, I was totally some kind of Fairy Queen. I was all, “Peaseblossom! Cobweb! Moth! Mustard Seed! Tie up my love’s tongue. And while you’re out, fetch me a whole buncha jasmine petals for my bosom, k?”
Back when I was pregnant, the lady who taught our childbirth class was talking about nursing, and weaning, and all the physical changes, and she said that we’d likely carry some extra weight until we were all the way done nursing, and then it would vanish and we’d find ourselves in the best shape of our lives.
I don’t know if this is true or if it was just a really kind thing to say to a room full of first timers. I’d love to see those results in the mirror across from the barre, but I also think it sounds a little magical, a little too easy.
I’ll keep you posted.
In the meantime, long as we don’t do our adagio to Nobody’s Girl I’ll be fine.
KIT, Gentle Reader.