Not a pocket full of posies

I am pissed this morning.  As I lay in bed under my fuzzy flannel sheets, I started thinking about breast feeding.  I have to.  Just incase you guys didn't get this earlier, I have wanted to be a mom badly, I mean badly my whole life.  When I was a little girl I babysat for anyone in my neighborhood.  My doll collection that I still have were my little babies and I often would pretend I was breast feeding them right along my mother's side, as she fed my brother. 

Thoughts came to my head as I was under the sheets and I started getting so mad.  I understand that anger is a base emotion, and I understand that it is my sadness that is fueling it right now.  But if that gene comes back positive and I choose out of sheer statistics to remove my breasts (which is the no brainer choice for MY body, maybe not yours but for mine) and  I don't get a chance to nurture a young one in this way, oh.  Watch out.  I am going to loose my mind.  I mean it, loose it.  All the things that I have read for years will no longer be possible for me.

I won't be able to give birth and put my baby to my breast and feed the little tiger.  I won't be able to feel the benefits of oxytocin being released through my body and getting the baby high from nursing.  I won't be able to walk around with a pad in my bra because of the "let down" reaction.  I won't feel a "let down".  I won't be in the kitchen making muffins and hear my baby cry and have my breast start pumping that milk.  I won't have the accidental let down in public if I hear another baby cry.  Do you wonder if I really meant it now when I say, " All I've thought about is having a baby."  I could be crying over nothing, maybe I won't have that gene.  I hope the Genetic Counselor is right this time around, and the other Doc's are wrong.  That would be nice.  I wonder if I will be able to breast feed with the breast that has cancer in it if I just do the lumpectomy?  That sounds like from my ignorance a bad thing.  Like a dirty thing that I wouldn't want my precious little one to be near.  My breast that had cancer in it.  Would there be a transfer of any little particles in the tiniest amount at all??  Not that this is shrouding in the tiniest amount my decision to either do or not do a mastectomy.  Because right now I haven't been faced with the genetic answers yet.  

As I take in a deep breath, I am breathing in the sun's rays deep into my body and breathing out all this sadness and I am going to go through my day staying in the present moment.  All of these fears can stay here.  In Wonka Land, up in the " TV Mikey" room of space in the sky.  For those of you that haven't watched Willy Wonka as obsessively as I have in my life (maybe 200 times) you have a fun movie to watch tonight!