I'd use more words but the thesaurus at dictionary.com doesn't even know the word "engorged" so I can't find any without standing up and finding a real thesaurus (I love me my Roget).
Anyway, this morning, freakishly, Toddler didn't ask to come in for a morning feed, and Daddy happily amused her, pleased and proud that he was enabling me to catch up on some desperately-needed rest. And he was, and I did, but when I woke...
Ow. And all I had to combat it was one bewildered newborn, far smaller than the combined mass of mammary I confronted, no pun intended, her with. She did her best, poor love, but we still ended up lying in puddles and pools, both with soaked nightclothes, on damp sheets, thankfully with a damp-absorbing towel under the sheet so the mattress is probably fine.
It took until about 11 am for the pain to go away. This is what it was like last time, when Toddler was a baby, and I had no older, larger, more-internal-volume child to deal with the excess. I'd forgotten.
Ow.
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