and now I'm living in correction facilities
Cause some don't agree with how I do this.
I get straight, meditate like a Buddhist
I'm droppin' flava, my behaviour is heriditery,
But my technique is very necessary
NWA knew what they were talking about with this tune, several times a day I'm in lock down at the milk bar pumping the girls for the sake of an extra hour or two in bed or an afternoon out with TBM. While I love the outcome of expressing milk, and it's great for TBM to be able to feed the wee man, the act itself is not the most exciting thing to have in your diary.
I'm happy to get my yaya's out in public to feed the Bean, but expressing is something I do in private, away from everyone in the seclusion of my bedroom, it's just too weird to do in front of anyone else. Sitting with a pump clamped to your boob and the Medela wheezing away at your side like an asthmatic labrador after a long walk is not sexy in anyones book. I am of the opinion TBM was party to enough stuff I would rather he didn't see during my labour. To put him through witnessing this too could be the icing on the cake and any chance of a 'romantic moment' will disappear in a puff of smoke.
But what can you do? Pump I must, so off I scurry to the confines of the bedroom to fill another bottle and claim an hour or two to myself.
Did you express if you breastfed? How was it for you?