Eight weeks of boobs

Squeaky is eight weeks and two days old today, and in all that time she's only ever eaten breast milk - my breast milk. She's packing on the pounds, too - up three whole pounds from birth. I don't know why this boggles my mind, but the fact that my body can sustain a whole other being - and that that being can thrive at my breast just... just... blows my mind.

Most natural thing in the world, all mammals do it, blah blah blah. Whatever. I'm nourishing a human being, here!

And of those approximately 580 feedings, about 574 of them have been at my breast. (The other 6 have been varying degrees of successful bottle feedings of expressed milk).

It's getting easier. I don't have to curl my toes as much when she first latches on. If my boobs are particularly full or particularly empty, it hurts more, but my milk supply is regulating itself to Squeaky's seven-hour sleeps overnight and her frantic cluster-feeding every evening (though that too is leveling out).

Hmm, now that I think about, it's coming up on one year since my body began sustaining her completely. Can I celebrate her one-year 'date of conception' anniversary, or would that just be weird?

But back to breast milk. I'm fascinated by the biology of it, and the amazing feeling of having Squeaky grow and thrive and learn to laugh and smile and try to crawl... all powered by milk from my own body. That's cool stuff.

Naked

In all the reading I've done about new motherhood, breastfeeding and the life changes that come about when a baby joins your household, there was one thing missing from the litany of nap-when-you-can new-mom tips. That is: just how much time you will spend naked.

Squeaky feeds every three hours or so during the day, for between 20 and 40 minutes each time. Between feedings, she'll nap, and so will I. So I don't get dressed. I wear underwear and a nursing bra, most often with the snaps undone.

Some times she feeds every hour in the evening, which leaves even less time between feedings to get dressed. So why bother?

And at night, I was never comfortable in pyjamas, so it's naked-to-bed for me.

All this to say, I only get dressed to leave the house. If there are any Peeping Toms in this small town, I hope they're not into stretchmarked bellies and leaky breasts.