You know that expression "the hair that broke the camel's back". I think I have the verbiage screwed up, so please comment and let me know what it actually is.
And even though I have it messed up, I know you know what I mean. I had decided a while ago that I wanted to exclusively pump in order to feed Brooklyn, but I had thought I would try breastfeeding the traditional way first and see how it went and then re-evaluate in a couple of weeks or so. But Brooklyn is just like her sister. Wide awake, smiling, laughing even and then you hook her up to the boob and she's asleep quicker than most teenagers. I have never had such rock hard boobs in my life. I started to think pumping was going to be happening a little earlier than planned.
Then at church on Sunday I excused myself from the service to go and feed her in the foyer. As soon as I sat down the dad of a guy we're friends with sat down next to me. Now I'm not exactly fitting into my pre-pregnancy clothes, or the current breastfeeding attire I own, so I knew that as soon as I unzipped my sweater he would get to know me, all of me, a lot better than he wanted. After a few awkward moments he finally got on and moozeyed off. I got Brooklyn latched on and we were just sitting there listening to the sermon doing our thing. Along comes an elderly lady, one who knows me but I do not know her name. She says the usual congratulations and asks how I'm feeling. I assume she is going to move on. Nope, she pulls the blanket that I have covering Brooklyn right off so she can get a good luck at our little bundle. What the heck!
Pumping is definitely for me. I'm transparent, but there are parts of me I don't want anyone to see.