And the first shall be last

Over the weekend a friend and co-worker jokingly mentioned that she was basing her self-worth on the number of social media followers she had. I had to laugh because I realized that even more sad was what I use to evaluate my self-worth on a daily basis: number of ounces.

Lately it's been a measily 6 oz per day. Back in the day I could easily produce 12 or 15 oz.

Of milk that is. (Most of you are getting totally grossed out right about now.)

Of all the jobs I have, being a mammalian mother may be the toughest. I'm not discounting the hard work that ALL mothers have to shoulder. What you feed your kids -- whether it be the purest drawn breastmilk, Gerber baby formula, or Doritos and Diet Coke -- has little to do with the bulk of the effort. It's a hard pill to swallow when you realize that even after the pregnancy is over, it's still not my body, my choice. Having to think about what I can and can't put into my body, having to force in pumping time at work, and having to wake up at odd times in the middle of the night for months on end can take a toll on a gal.

Maybe the hardest thing about breastfeeding is the knowledge that you've got to take care of yourself in order to nourish the baby. And as all my mom friends will agree, one of the hardest things is trying to figure out where they stop and you start -- or maybe it's where they start and you stop.

Taking the time to exercise or eat a healthy meal or - gasp! - put my feet up is nearly impossible at worst and a selfish indulgence at best when the baby needs feeding, the 3-yr-old needs corraling, the laundry needs folding, the dinner needs stirring, the dog needs relieving, the husband need loving, the bills need paying, the report needs proofing and the dishes need washing.

So, ok, I guess it's not a breastfeeding thing. And maybe it's not even a mom thing. Universally we all struggle with where to put ourselves. First certainly doesn't work, but too low on the list ain't a good thing either.

For now, I'll try to keep up the breastfeeding gig. For all it's annoyances, it does guarantee some sweet cuddle time with the little guy and it does help out in the cleavage department. Speaking of which...