After two days of feed one, express one – a fun job indeed (note the level of sarcasm, particularly on use of word ‘fun’) – boobs are only midly better.
Small kid doesn’t seem to care terribly much, and is feeding to the point of actually leaking he is so full. Its coming back up while he’s still sucking it down.
(Visit to health nurse also showed little piglet boy has put on more weight – like 50% more – than is expected of a fully breastfed child of his age)
Lovely at 2.53am, when you have regurgitated breast milk running down your exposed belly and the inside of your arm.
Worse, I grit my teeth throughout feed – coz the Grumpy one won’t allow me ot distribute some of the burden onto him anymore – successfully changed a nappy halfway through, back to the feed, wrapped and settled bub, put him back to bed, turned lights out and made my way back to my bed.
Ah, sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep and lovely bed.
Or would have been had I no slammed my knee into the bed post on my way back.
Took my mind off boobs for a bit. As did putting my head onto a cold, wet, disgorged breast milky pillow.