Stiva’s Q and A: Part Deux

Might as well finish this up while the dreads (well, * almost * dreads…some of them don’t seem to be taking all that well. I think I’ll make Don do some more back combing when he arrives back in Janet Land on Friday) are drying from my rather exciting bath. It was all that porn talk a little while ago. Ha. Just kidding. Maybe.

AND…the mybloggers blogging community needs * something * to read! It’s been a slow day around here, folks and I don’t know about you, but I think we all need to get on that Brad’s ass about posting every day because I’m so thoroughly addicted to his blog. And speaking of blogs I am addicted to…whatever happened to Pecan? She had some killer stories. I miss reading her. And I miss Tanya. I know she went back to her other blog. And sometimes I pop over there to check it out but it’s not the same, not at all. And of course, I miss Meranda like crazy. Wish she could come back, too.

Enough of that sadness. Hurry up Stiva!

Now on with the show! Or tales. Oh, whatever…

Question number six:

“How does the breastfeeding fit in there?”

It followed , “How did you and Don meet?” for those of you just tuning in.

Now * this * is a very good question and one that I’m sure some of you have been curious about but maybe a little too embarrassed to actually ask about. And then there are some of you who were all over the idea and e-mailed me privately and if you’re included in the latter, feel free to skip past this question and answer. I have nothing new to offer on the subject.

For starters, Don wasn’t the first adult breastfeeding relationship I entered into. A long, long time ago…so long it feels like a past life sometimes…I had a relationship with a man named Dennis. At that time in my life, I had very, very few limitations sexually. I also felt that I had very little value and virtually no self esteem to speak of. Dennis was significantly older than I was at the time…old enough to be my father and then some. It wasn’t a very balanced relationship, to say the least but he was one of the first people in my life to treat my body with any kind of respect.

One night, after “making love” (shudder), he asked me if he could suckle my breasts. As I mentioned, I had no limits sexually at that time and didn’t really care one way or the other. I remember being more surprised that he had actually asked before doing. I was further surprised when the suckling didn’t lead to anything else. He fell asleep and that was it.

I didn’t know what he was doing. I know that sounds really stupid, but I already told you that I’m not that smart to begin with and I was really young. Eventually, we did talk about it. How it made him feel. How he was slightly shy about the whole thing. How he felt embarrassed by his fetish some of the time. I was not lactating, nor had I ever lactated at that point. I didn’t even realize that an adult could desire breast milk.

Until he asked me if I would consider hormones and regular suckling and/or pumping to induce lactation (which at that time, I didn’t know was possible). This made me uncomfortable because I don’t do hormones and don’t like the idea of fucking with a body that has it’s own systems which are working just fine, and we were on our way out anyway. The relationship, such as it was, ended.

Then came Melissa. She was the one who was lactating. I was the one drinking. Most of the time. I was still not lactating, had never lactated but she enjoyed “dry feeding” just the same. I have nothing but fond memories of Melissa although our time together was quite brief and highly sexual with little else in between.

I have obviously lactated since then since I’m the mother of three. I breast fed Emma for a little while. I nursed Kate until she was well over the age of a year and wanted to continue but wasn’t able to as successfully after I returned to work (she weaned herself). I pumped for Michael while he was in the hospital with the hopes of breastfeeding him when he came home. It, however, wasn’t meant to be. He never did have a good enough sucking reflex and couldn’t nurse. I dried up.

In all that time, I never nursed my husband. He had no interest in it whatsoever and I put my previous experiences in the recesses of my mind.

And then Don.

He reminded me so much of Dennis a lot of the time. And I started thinking back to my time spent with Dennis. I can’t really tell you what made the switch in my mind but I do remember googling adult breastfeeding because I had seen a documentary on it (but that had focused mostly on adults interested in being babies) and for whatever reason, thought Don might be into it.

I broached the subject very, very carefully one night over the phone. He wasn’t into it at all. He wasn’t grossed out or anything but he kept saying, “I don’t need that. My head on your chest is enough. I don’t need to do that.”

This was my in.

I talked a bit more about it but kept my distance because I wasn’t lactating so it was sort of a theoretical discussion at that point. Eventually, the idea of there possibly being milk (oh! I forgot to mention that it wasn’t unusual for me to lactate a little bit right before my period…that was how we started talking about his actually possibly nursing) peaked his interest and we agreed that the next time we saw one another, we would give it a try.

He arrived on a Friday night in April.

We’ve been a happy nursing couple ever since.

Are you wondering how it plays into our relationship? What the appeal is?

It’s very calming and relaxing for both parties. It’s not unusual at all for Don to fall asleep at the breast or nurse in the middle of the night (which is, by far, my favorite). If he’s upset about something, some time spent at the breast will always help him settle. And it’s the one time when I know he believes me fully when I tell him that I love him. That he’s not broken. Not defective. That I’m not leaving him, not for anything.

It releases some pretty awesome hormones in me, too, which some people tell me, feels a lot like having just smoked some pot. It is also very intimate for me. And while I’ve had way more than my fair share of sexual experience, I haven’t necessarily found very much intimacy in my life. Loving touch, or whatever.

There has been a fair bit written about the metaphysical connection between a woman and man involved in an adult nursing relationship. It is a very intense connection with someone and those of us who do it feel like it was invented just for us.

Now, lots of the time, it’s what Don and I call, “wholesome nursing” which means that it’s loving and calm and gentle and all that good stuff.. But lots of the time, it’s not “wholesome”. It can be highly, um, erotic. And the fetish part of it can extend, in some cases, to pumping, being milked, squirting, etc.

Phew! That was really, really long! If you’re still curious, there’s a fairly decent website called, “Land Of Milk And Honey” that’s all about adult nursing. It’s worth checking out.

Now, where was I? I talked about Rock. How I met Don. The breastfeeding thing. The ice cream.

Ah, yes! The dreads.

Question number, um, seven? Yeah…seven:

“Why dreads?”

This is also Mary’s question.

I think I already answered this in a comment back to Stiva.

I permed my hair about a year ago and then permed it a couple more times. I have very fine, thin hair and it tangles easily. So dreads started to form. I like the way that dreads look a lot (I used to be a punk), so I left them there. They started taking over. My curls went away. My hair stylist moved out (Rock used to perm my hair). And something needed to be done. So I decided to go big or go home and dread the whole head.

I wondered why people wondered why I wanted dreads. And Don pointed out that it might be because people think that dreads are dirty, can’t be washed, etc. This is not true. Actually, clean hair lends itself the best to dreads, although special shampoo is really helpful. I will not stink…well, not more than usual! Ha!

And now the final question (I can actually hear your sighs of relief):

“Is there really such a thing as prana?”

This is such a loaded question.

I should almost answer in en francais just to get back at you. But I’m not really that mean. Really. I’m not.

I think you’re asking me this for a couple of possible reasons.

First of all, I wonder if you’re asking me to see where my experience with the holistic, mind/body, voodoo, hoopy loopy stuff lies. I’d gladly tell you.

Secondly, I wonder if you’re asking me so that you can have an opportunity to share with me what you learned during your time in LA. I’d love to know.

Thirdly, I wonder if you’re asking me so that you can have an opportunity to share with my you scepticism and where it stemmed from based on what you learned during your time in LA. I’d love to know that, too.

And lastly, I wonder if you’re asking me because the “traditional” routes are turning up empty and the path is getting a little narrow and those bones of yours are being crushed under the weight of everything you’re carrying. Because maybe there might be something more than the man in a lab coat can offer.

Maybe. Maybe not. That’s the beauty of wondering. I’m not interested in a debate. I won’t convince you any more than you’ll convince me. But discussion…I’m always game for a discussion. We learn a lot from people who are like us, who have lived through similar experiences or who have similar thoughts. But we learn the most from those of us who are different.

So Stiva? Whatever…

Your turn.

Disappointed? Did you really want a clear answer to that one?

En francais, then…

"Est-il vraiment une telle chose comme prana?"

"Bien sûr".

And that’s all, folks! I promise that my ME post is coming soon, soon, soon. This has been really fun and very cathartic. It’s my sincere hope that it will maybe, just maybe, spawn some honesty with all of you…if not for the sake of nosiness, then maybe just some honesty with yourselves.

And finally (really, that will be it then, I promise)…

Thanks for reading. Some of this might have been hard to take. I appreciate how open all of you are to getting to know janetk on a deeper level.

Bonne nuit!