As I was squeezing my breasts into the bathroom sink (all the glamour), it hit me. He's done. I'm done. The last direct bodily connection to me nourishing him is going away. So I cried. As I cleaned out my lingerie chest last weekend and got rid of all of stretched out, torn, broken nursing …
Raising twins and staying sober 24 hours at a time.
Too Sober For This 