I don’t like nursing. There. I said it. Now’s the part where you think very negative, and extremely un-nurturing things about me. I know nursing is supposed to be a wonderful bonding experience. That it’s a time for mom and baby, and excuse to sit down, all that. But mostly, for me, it’s uncomfortable, inconvenient, awkward and occasionally painful. My introduction to nursing happened 2 years and 3 months ago and it was one of the most miserable experiences of my life. I didn’t cry in labor. I didn’t cry when we moved across the ocean, when my grandparents died, or even when I broke my arm when I was 9. I cried when I was nursing Avery. I also have negative psychological responses to nursing that were worse with Evelyn than with Avery. So, I know a lot of people love nursing. I know a lot of people wish desperately that they could nurse and I really feel for those people too. I’m glad I can nurse. But I don’t like nursing.
What does this have to do with pants you ask. Well, there are a few things about nursing I do like, and one of my favorites is what nursing does to my waist. I went to put on the pair of pants I bought before we left Utah because they fit me so perfectly, and they’re too big. With both of my kids I’ve lost all my pregnancy weight and an additional pant size in the six months or so after giving birth. Before I had Avery I was somewhere between a size 14 and 16 and now my 12 s are too big. So I guess I’ll keep nursing, mostly because it’s good for my babies and because it’s waaaaay cheaper, but also for the perks.