Owie.

Note: This post has very little to do with Adrian; so if that's why you're here you may want to read something else. This post does involve my breasts, but more in a discussion of function rather than form...
You've been warned.

Now.
Owie!
My right breast is broken. Broken, I tell you!
I'm not sure if this is possible, but it feels like engorgement all over again. But not the whole breast, just a section of it. (For those of you not in the know, engorgement is the misleading term for when your milk comes in--I say misleading because the word does not begin to describe the pain that is created by over-full breasts. Imagine, if you will, squeezing into an outfit that is meant for toddlers. Then, apply a generous amount of swelling to your entire body which becomes rock-hard and incredibly sensitive to the slightest draft. That's kind of like engorgement, but not as painful.)
My right breast has been a troublemaker through this whole breastfeeding adventure--first it was a cracked and bleeding nipple, which healed after a week or so. Then it was a bruised nipple, courtesy of my beloved son and his misaligned suction-grip of death. Now it is the swelling and the firmness and the pain of it all.
If it weren't for ibuprofen, I'm pretty sure that I'd give up on breastfeeding altogether (despite the indignant screaming of my conscience).
So if you call, and I sound a little cranky...It's because I am.