Why did I choose the words, “His Milkmaid” to describe myself and our relationship?
This is a question I have asked myself a few times. I have yet to feel like I can express an answer completely enough to satisfy me. I do know that it was answer from my heart. It wasn’t something I rolled around in my head and got all philosophical about.
I thought today that maybe if I just tried searching my heart and apply a little brain translation, I could possibly come up with answer close enough. I am typing as I attempt it.
The “his” part is easy. I have been his since we married 25 years ago. I have never been tempted to stray from my marriage vows. There is no one else that I would like to give myself to in a physically intimate way.
It goes beyond lovemaking. This includes my carrying, birthing, nursing, and nurturing his children over the last 24 years. Yes, they are my children too, that is a given. But truth be told, I only had so many because he wanted me too. There were times when I was not thrilled to find out I was pregnant again. He, on the other hand, has always been proud of the life I was carrying. He was in the room for each birth. He would rub my back and pray for me as I labored. I felt so much of the idea that I was “carrying his child” and “giving him a child,” that I let him choose their names. The first one is named after him. He has been worthy of such honor… being an attentive and loving father.
During those years of carrying, birthing, nursing, and often still nursing one while carrying the next, I had “little to none” when it came to energy left for lovemaking. Just the thought of it made me tired. Yet, even in those years, my life was about my god and my husband. I took pride in cooking things he enjoyed. I watched him walk through our garden in the mornings, at lunch time, and after work. While I gardened, my heart would swell up knowing I was doing something that pleased him.
I never had “career” aspirations. I came from a broken home. My mom left my dad, (who never stopped loving her…) She gave up her children to pursue a life as a bar maid and alcoholic. I knew I was going to do just the opposite. In my heart, I dedicated my future to being a loyal wife and mother when other girls were thinking about career choices. I knew as a child that my goal in life would be to nurture my family and hold it together. The man I married would have my devotion. I was “his,” my future husbands, before I ever met him. And so he has always possessed my heart, my body, and my support in his own career and business.
Is it any wonder that I would choose the possessive pronoun “his”?
Taking it further, should it be any wonder that I would seek to continue offering my body the way that I have? (He is worthy of all this devotion, and rises to the occasion, “taking care of the girls” in the most loving and attentive way many times a day.) Even though our bosom relationship was my idea this time, I know that remembering his desire and enjoyment back when I was nursing babies is at the root of my own desire. Add to that how much nurturing our relationship is important to me… and I think we are getting close to an answer of why “his milkmaid.”
When I approached him about trying to re-incorporate suckling into our marriage, I honestly had no idea how much physical enjoyment it would bring me. In the days of babies my body knew my nipples were for business. Now they are free for pleasure. I also only later discovered, how much lactating was a part of who I am… how much I missed it… Only bringing it back made me realize it. It was not a consideration at the beginning.
All that was in my heart and my mind was nurturing our relationship, and bring back something that once brought him pleasure. I knew I would enjoy the emotional aspect in nurturing the relationship, and I knew the idea of offering myself to him, in a servant sort of way, would be erotic and a turn on for me. So it was not like I was planning to be a martyr or anything. Still, my own “physical” enjoyment was a surprise present; a gift.
Adding to the erotic notion of being his chamber maid in this way, was the hormones I had not even thought of. I can not explain the headiness and bliss or contentment caused by the hormones. (I never got into smoking pot so I can not vouch for this; but in my on line searches, I read an account by a female doctor who said that the temporary affect it has on the brain is the same. It is also mentioned in the book, The Oxytocin Factor.) The feeling was not like this when I had my babies. Or maybe I just did not recognize the calming blissful effect. Thinking back I remember sitting down to nurse and feeling my whole body “sigh” and relax. But, then again, nursing was about the only time I was not on my feet scurrying around trying to get a “mother load” done. So, I guess it is not odd that I did not contribute the sigh and relaxed feeling to the hormones.
In my effort to nurture our relationship, I was unwittingly enacting a process that would create happy hormones that feed my desire to nurture even more. This included the hormone oxytocin related to emotional bonding and sexual satisfaction. It is more than just hormones. The physical intimacy of drawing him to my bosom and his suckling there enhances our emotional intimacy, which feeds my desire for increased physical intimacy. It set up a continual loop drawing us closer and deeper.
“His Milkmaid,” was not a thought out acronym on my part. I did not even know then that it was used to describe a lactating woman who lactates for erotic reasons. …but it is so fitting. Someone before me obviously had the idea. All I had was the emotions; the desire to offer my breasts to him with a servants heart full of devotion and loyalty, and the desire to bring him to my bosom where my heart of heart yearned for that closeness I wanted to nurture. I had dreamed about it in the weeks before I brought the idea up to him. Little did I know how dreamy my reality was going to become.
I am his milkmaid, and I am loving it.
