Who Owns These Boobs Anyway?

After two weeks of pumping in a stinky bathroon stall, I finally realized that there was a lactation room tucked way in the back of our law library. That's kind of an odd place for it.

It's tucked away in a back corner and you need a key to open the door. Whenever I make my way back there and type in the code, I feel like I'm breaking into a bank vault or something. Or that I am Harry Potter travelling to a distant, mysterious land amidst crowds at a London train station.

Anyway...(geeky silence)...

I am so done with pumping. I HATE it. I hate it more than I hate eating burned toast, being called on in class when I'm unprepared, or scooping up cat poo that has mysteriously missed the litter box. I would rather clean the black grout that lives between my bathroom tiles. I can't even pinpoint what I hate about it so much, I just simply hate it in it's entirety.

The lactation room is tiny with no windows. And there are random pictures of people's babies taped all over one wall. Wow, I hate to say it but, law students at my school have spawned some really ugly babies. I am tempted to put Jacob's photo on the wall but I don't want other parents to be put off by his cuteness (i.e. I keep forgetting to bring tape).

Jacob can't stomache normal formula so we've put him on soy formula. That has been working really well so far. I hope to slowly start getting him on formula exclusively but I hate giving up the convenience of nursing. In the middle of the night when he cries, I put him in bed with me and feed him while I sleep. Nursing at night has been a life saver! I hate to give that up.

But I want my body back. The lending of my boobs for feeding purposes is a lease terminable at will. And my will is strong.

Thus begins my socio-biological experiment: what is stronger- the need for sleep or the urge to have your body to yourself again? Only time will tell...