I laughed aloud when I read this. And then I realized poor Debra wasn't trailer bound she was just postpartum.
I know I considered actual pants (versus pajama pants) to be formalwear during those first few weeks. At one point I went out to get the mail with the baby tossed over my shoulder. I waved with great enthusiasm at my neighbor and wondered why she was avoiding eye contact. I realized that my left breast was fully exposed and flapping in the wind when I waved. Side to side, side to side.
I had disassociated from my breasts so much at that point it was like they were separate beings. Husband was delighted with the car wash effect my swollen D cups would produce. He would attempt tomfoolery whenever the baby napped. Since I did not have the infamous 6 week clearance at that point (thank God) I would just nod towards my hooters and say "Why don't you three just get busy and let me know when you're done so I can get in the shower".
My personal limit was when the over the counter pumps wouldn't get out more than a trickle. I was promptly hooked up to something we rented from the hospital that looked and sounded suspiciously like some serious dairy farm equipment. The lactation counselor and husband were cheering me on while the pump ker-chunked ker-chunked along. I kept bursting into tears feeling hogtied to this strange machine and inadequate as a milker. At one point I think they thought I had bucked up, but in truth I was just far away mentally clipping Similac coupons.
God bless the women that can do it for a year or more. Carol was the earth mother of lactation and fed with ease. I envied the natural way her feeding evolved. It came easy and she had no nipple nazis threatening her that the baby would ride the short bus and never spell his name correctly if she couldn't get it to latch on correctly. My only consolation was that my boobs might be perkier when we were older. Then I realized the likelihood of Carol and I getting naked together was pretty nil. And since our architect husbands only speak of building codes and AutoCad when they get together it's not likely they'll be comparing our racks.
So keep on keeping on Debra. You put away those fancypants and shop at the dollar store. I've got your back!