Hey world! (crickets)
So I've been meaning to start a blog for a long time now. When I was a child, and then an overdramatic teenager, writing was my ultimate release. The steady flow of ink on ruled paper was a purging, a cleansing, a wonderful burgeoning expulsion of all my emotions and thoughts. I've always wanted to be a writer, but the world and life caught me in its throes, and so I've decided to blog instead.
I want this blog to be about many things. My experiences as a new mother, how my view of the world has changed as I've immersed myself deeper in parenthood, and all the incredible changes it brings. I want this blog to be a wealth of information and interest for other new moms. I want to advocate those parenting practices I believe in, and to explore some of those that I might otherwise disdain.
Maybe an introduction. You can call me Breast. My 7 month old daughter is Babe. Some days, I feel as though I am only a personality attached to breasts. That's weird, you might think. Maybe, but as a full-time breastfeeding mom, the sentiment of being a floating pair of boobies is not so odd as one might believe. My whole life has become about Babe, and as for Babe, well for the first few months of life, her whole life revolved around momma's breasts. Now, at 7 months, Babe still has most of her life revolve around her momma's boobies. She's become somewhat of a conoisseur, though. She stops halfway through eating to hold a boob in both hands, admire it from every angle, pinch it, talk to it, and then return to taste-testing. She's realized that they still exist when out of sight, and is bound and determined to see them under the cloth when they are hiding. Every food she tastes is compared to them, every person who holds her gets the privilege of a visual breast exam from her, and sometimes a pinch as well. It's the most important part of mommy, and sometimes I have to practically wave my hands and dance a jig to get her attention away from them. Is it so strange then, that I sometimes feel like a set of levitating boobs? As any breastfeeding mom can attest, nah, not really.
How did I decide to breastfeed? How were our major parenting decisions made? Next time. It's a long story.