At halfway through this second pregnancy, I’m about ((yay)) big and >this< far away from giving birth to another human being. It also means I’m possibly going to have two chitlins on each teat because I am a current pregnant breastfeeder. Humnoy is
“still” nursing and I’m still pregnant so at this going rate, one is bound to catastrophically end. If you know anything about pregnancy, it should have a shorter life span than Humnoy’s interest in breastfeeding.
Yes, pregnancy is beautiful; breastfeeding is beautiful. Having both should make me glow like a fairy from end to end, right? I’m not here to tell you it isn’t or can’t be. I’m here to tell you it isn’t butterfly kisses and cracker jacks. Here I go off in bullet form about my current experiences as breastfeeding a toddler during a surprise pregnancy:
- I’m tired. So fucking tired. Between horrible sleeping ability with this growing fetus inside me, I have this Artist Formerly Known As Fetus, who expects to be fed actual breakfast after he gets no milk from the tap after waking up. I also am in full-on nesting mode already and don’t fit in the naps with Humnoy like I did when it was just us two (sans the Bébé) when he’d unlatch and I’d stare at him for 10 whole minutes without blinking then finally pass out myself.
- I eat shitty food. I don’t wanna hear about Monsanto or McDonald’s pink slime, please just let the cranky preggo eat without you shaming her. I eat to keep up my energy with an energetic toddler. I have to double-duty eat because I’m being depleted by this second child as I am chasing after said first child. I’ve had feta cheese (gasp!), I’ve had turkey sandwiches (double-gasp!), and I drink the occasional caffeinated soft drink (shut the front door!) I’ve lusted after Gym Hottie’s bottle of microbrew at dinner too. Jerk.
- Netflix is my sometimes-nanny. Before I found out I was knocked up again, I would be indescribably lazy that I’d turn on Netflix and lay in bed as Humnoy watched all three seasons of Curious George. Come to find out, I was getting over the first trimester woes just as Humnoy realized the awe of a precocious monkey that was specifically made in his own image. Now, it allows me to prepare food for us to consume. I just sometimes forget to tip the nanny.
- I revel in the pregnant breastfeeder sympathy. People just think you’re super-woman for doing something as awe-inspiring as mothering a toddler while pregnant. I’m no saint but I also ain’t no wimp. It is nice to have some acknowledge the latter rather than assume I can handle it all on my own because, truth be told, I can’t. I can’t take for granted how I get to make dinner in (somewhat) peace and quiet when Gym Hottie gets home or when my family members know to not wake the napping preggo when I’m over visiting.
- I won’t and do not plan to wean Humnoy. I could easily choose to cut Humnoy completely off from breastfeeding and I honestly think it’d be a smooth transition. He rarely asks for it and I only offer it to get him to nap or sleep. I just cannot bring myself to add more guilt upon my already guilt for drying up with my current pregnancy. My nipples went from pain-in-tears to now just painful so that’s a plus. *thumbs up*
- I am secretly wishing that I get to tandem nurse. Now, why would I want to make things harder on myself when I’ll be a soon-to-be mother of two? And one being a two-year-old at that? If his time to wean has not come for him, by god, he will get those boobies right along with his little sibling. Plus, did I tell you I ain’t no wimp? I think tandem nursing is the purest form of lactating badassery.
- Hell yeah I’m worried about getting fat again. I gained 29 pounds in the more than 10 months I was pregnant with Humnoy. I began showing at 3 months like I did when I was 6 months pregnant the first time around. My upper thighs are doing the whole saddle-bag look again and my back-boobs are visiting until I have milk again to slim those puppies out. For every time someone says, “You’re all belly!” it’s also a pair of jeans I tried to stuff myself into just that morning then going on to make my yoga pants ensemble somewhat ‘dressy.’
Happy half-way point to me!
What are your confessions as a breastfeeder or a preggo?
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