I come from a long line of non-breast feeders. (I’d love it if you’d check out that link and post a response – I’m still curious if my theory is right) I had no intention of breastfeeding Bob. I was completely skeeved out by the idea of a baby sucking on my boobs.

I had two friends who had felt the same way and they’d pumped for their boys. I was open to the idea of pumping for him, and that was my plan. I wasn’t big on letting a bunch of people invade my privacy and my boobs. It all seemed very invasive to me – the LLL, the Lactation Consultants, it was all more drama than I really wanted to get into.

Then Sara framed it for me in a simple way. Dawn, she said, babies are geared to nurse. A friend told me that you put the naked baby on your naked stomach, you let it root around and find your boob and it will nurse. It’s probably worth giving it a shot to see if it works for you, if not, hit the pump. This simple statement totally changed my point of view.

Bob was born at 2:47 am after everyone was done with us, I just had them take my gown and leave the clean one by the bed. I wrapped my naked self in the sheet with an unwrapped Bob and just waited to see what would happen. There in the middle of the night, he nursed.

Scout slept beside us, and I fed our boy. Obviously, things went to hell after that, but I’m so grateful for Sara’s words. I’m so glad I gave it a shot. I feel like, for me, it bonded me to Bob to let him cross that boundary. I temporarily set aside all my hang-ups, and I let my little boy be close to me in a way that no other person has ever been.

There’s been such an uproar over Applebee’s and Facebook. I’ve read so many posts from so many women who show their passion and their heart and their bravery. I’d start linking, but that would be never ending – but please feel free to link in the comments, I can’t seem to get enough of these stories.

Reading about your experiences has given me the courage to try nursing again. (This one was the last one I read before feeling brave enough to try again.) And he’s done it. He’s nursed. Just a little bit. But just enough. Just enough to help me soothe some of that hurt of all the beating myself up I’ve done. (Yes, he’s caused some hurt when he decides my boobs are chew toys).

I would never have tried it if it weren’t for all of you. So thank you from the bottom of my boobs. And believe me, that’s coming from a long way down. Meltdown today was meltdown day again. Scared. Scared of change, scared of what could go wrong, really not happy that after 10 months of sheer bliss I’m rewarded with some hella pain to make the 10 months of sheer bliss end. I mean, really, wouldn’t a tantric orgasm covered in chocolate really be better payback.

And I mean an orgasm like a guy has one – something easy, not this female must work hard and concentrate on it to make it happen after losing it three times shit. Off to go take a bath. Must return to work tomorrow, and I better laugh about it all. Normally I’m all sad at the end of spring break, but it’s not like I have to go back to work for long, just a few days. Okay, maybe 10 days, we’ll see. I don’t mean the XY XX genetic choices – but the why for me.

The very thing I fear – the perpetual motion – is what I need in my life. I’m a sit on my ass kind of girl. In front of the tv, with some knitting, with a laptop, with some food, kind of girl. I was picked last for teams in gym, I got my glasses broken constantly in contact sports, I could never ride my bike up the hill, I once tripped on a painted line in gym and sprained my ankle, my dad sponsored the summer softball team I was on – and I still once heard the coach say while I was going up to bat, “Here comes the girl who can’t hit.”

I have this weight issue. (However, today is 162, opa!) I don’t want to move my bod. It feels strange to me. The only thing I’ve ever trusted my body to do was childbirth. But I have this boy. This boy who doesn’t want to be still. This bright little boy who wants to see things and touch things and lick things – he’s not content sitting and listening to me describe it – he’s an up close and personal kind of guy.

This boy smiles when I put him on my shins and do crunches. This boy laughs when I bring my shoulders to him and exhale raspberries at him while I crunch. This boy loves when I pull him up and down, straining my triceps and shoulders in a good way. This boy loves being bounced up and down in the squats and lunges that I hate hate HATE to do. It seems like I just need to survive!

This boy likes to take the ride on my stomach as I do the bridge from yoga class. This boy is a mover and a shaker. He’ll teach me to be active. He’ll teach me to live in my body rather than surfing online to find a picture of what I’d rather sit and envy. He’ll teach me to laugh while I get strong. I just have to let him teach me. And damn that’s hard.