i've regained possession of my boobs.

sometimes i'm hesitant to post things like this, because i'm afraid of the judgment that it could bring, and then i remember that i just don't care. i'm not out to please my blogging audience, i'm out to please myself. so i quit pumping. and i am happy.

i stopped pumping, or pseudo-nursing, or whatever you want to call it. at first i thought i would feel bad, but truthfully, i made it a lot longer than i thought that i would. initially, i thought i would aim to pump through "bikini season" and i rewarded myself with a fancy new strapless tankini. i did that. then july came, and i aimed to pump throughout my vacation in chicago hundreds of miles away from my baby, and bring all of my breast milk back home on the airplane. i did that. i made it through fall, and then about a month ago, tegan became a ferocious eater. baby food no longer satisfied him, and he would only eat solids. he was only drinking four or so bottles a day with three huge meals. he didn't rely on me very much any more, and my milk supply responded.

but i made it ten months. and if that alone isn't hard enough, i'll reminisce about my pumping- i've pumped on airplanes, i've pumped while driving. i've pumped on I-94, 696 and all the way down van dyke. i've pumped in the museum of science and industry. i've pumped downtown detroit, chicago, nyc and boston. i've pumped while sitting on dirty bathroom floors. i've pumped on clean bathroom floors. i've pumped during weddings and birthday parties. i've pumped while camping. i've pumped at auctions in both parked and moving vehicles. you name it, i've done it. i've even trained for, and finished a half-marathon with giant painful nursing boobs. i did that. my medela pump-in-style backpack and i have pumped-in-style across the east coast and the mid-west. i've pumped every six hours for the past ten months. like clockwork. and now, i'm feeling pretty damn proud of myself.

and then i just stopped. for the past few months, i took twenty five fenugreek pills every day. to the point that i smelled like maple syrup just from being in the sun. not sweating, just being outside. we'd lay in bed at night and adam would jokingly say, "mmm, pancakes." i ran 13.1 miles through downtown detroit with my husband craving breakfast. it got old. i drank gallons of water a day. no caffeine. more caffeine. beer, oatmeal, wine, and still nothing. i pumped more, i pumped less, i went in for tegan's nine month checkup and it was confirmed. i was drying up.

and still, i made it a month past that. and i left my pump out for a day, but now it's packed back up in it's box. i've regained hours a day by not pumping. it's peaceful without the constant noise of the pump. i no longer have to be home every day at 2:00, or 8:00 or whatever. my boobs have blue hash marks, which they proudly bare like soldiers coming home from war. victoriously, they have proudly served two children, the second for a solid ten months. i can put away my nursing bras and sports bras and shelf bras hidden in tank tops. i can put on a regular bra and stuff my oddly contorted boobs back into them and feel like a woman again. i can just be me, a proud and accomplished mother and wife instead of simply tegan's food supply.

ladies and gentlemen, the cow has left the building. and it is happy.