Sucks

3 days until I say "ta-ta" to my "ta-tas". I've been haveing weird dreams lately about Casey nursing again or nursing a baby in general, about funerals and death. I had a funny dream that they made my story into a movie and Tom Hanks was going to play me. When it came to the part where he had to have a mastectomy he hired someone else to do it. That's Hollywood for ya. I wish.
I've been having a hard time falling asleep at night because it is then that everything catches up with me. Like for example last night I was worrying about what they'll do with my breasts. I know this may sound lame to some people, but it's not. They are cutting a part of me off, and not just a physical part. These girls provided nutrition for my babies, they're part of my feminineness, motherliness and sexuality. I don't expect anyone to understand. I just have to get it out or I'll bottle it up inside and it won't do me any good.
I asked Jeff, half jokingly if they'd give them to me as ashes in an urn. He just hugged me and asked if I was feeling nervous. Yup. Then I got this vision from Due date where they drink the father's ashes because the guy thinks it's coffee. "This tastes like old stinky bra..." "Oh those are my boobs!" Oh I have a sick sort of humor sometimes. I think I joke when I'm trying to be brave. And then confessing that doesn't make me very brave I guess.
I'm not having a pity party here just processing stuff or whatever.
In church a few weeks ago someone bore there testimony and said they love running in the rain. It was her favorite time to run. She said instead of waiting for the storm to pass you must learn to dance in the rain. I really am trying to learn.