Lets Talk About Breasts

It is now 7 in the morning. My body is aching from head to toe and my nipples feel like they are being stabbed by a thousand knives. My arms hurt. Yesterday was one of those days where she did not want to be put down unless she was sleeping (and even then she would rather be sleeping in my arms). It was a cereal for dinner kind of night. It was a go to sleep covered in the sour smell of baby spit up kind of night. It was a night where I would have loved someone to help me out-- and not with tasks or daily chores, just someone to make me feel better.

I wanted to write about my boobs and breastfeeding months ago, but time passed and I didn't. Eventually enough time passed and breastfeeding got easier. But before it got easier, I cried--a  lot. I would bite down on my tongue every meal she had. I hated it. I was feeding her about 14 hours a day. 14 hours of gut wrenching nipple sucking pain. Miserable does not even begin to describe the way I felt while breasfeeding. My breasts never got a break and my nipples were in a constant unpleasant state. I had endless tears pouring down my face. I tried hot pads, cool pads, nipple guards, and I even gave in and tried lanolin. Nothing work. Luckily, everyone was right: It did get easier. It took some time, but it did get easier. Yes, I'm happy I stuck with it. I'm happy I went through all the pain just so that she would never have formula. Why its easier for some mothers and babies: I don't know, but, for me it sucked. But I did it and it was worth it.

As I type Marlowe is gripping and digging her little fingernails in the side of my arm. She not in pain, she is actually going to fall back asleep any minute. Is she early teething or going through a growth spurt? I don't know. It could be both. What I do know is: I am not looking forward to today. If it is anything like yesterday its going to hurt.

“Girl Before the Mirror”, Pablo Picasso, 1932 

Source.

When I think of my breasts I think of Picasso. I used to love my breasts. Maybe that is vain? I don't care. In my opinion, they were one of my best features. Almost two years ago I had surgery on my left breast to have a large mass removed. I had a fibroadenoma the size of a golf ball in there. When it came out I was left with a scar much larger and much more centered than what my doctor had promised. Whatever, my boobs were still nice. And I was able to tell myself I looked tough with another scar. The one breast became smaller, (this tends to be the case with most women anyway), but not enough where I would really care. But once I got pregnant it seemed that only one really grew..... (well, they both definitely did, but one grew so much more... ) it really stole the show. Maybe no one notices, maybe they do, I mean, people certainly will take notice now. I can tell you, it really is a large insecurity. I've already told my family (half joking) that I would like a breast reduction of the large breast once I discontinue breastfeeding. Why not get one larger? I hate large breasts, well, more specifically, I hate large breasts on me. This is when I start to think of Picasso. As one breast is larger and hangs slightly lower it begins casting a larger shadow on my body. Even my nipples are off. As my breasts grew my nipples grew to match the breast size-- they also work with breasts to create an asymmetrical masterpiece. I'm okay with my post baby body. I had a ridiculously healthy pregnancy-- I never gained unnecessary weight and I never had to work to lose the weight afterwards. Yeah, my stomach is still squishy and I still have a line down the center, but my belly button is starting to look normal again, and for the most part everything seems to be back in place. I know my boobs will never be what they once were... and honestly I'm more than okay with that. I really would just like them to be more symmetrical again. Sure, its an issue of vanity, but I would really like evenly sized breasts.