When I fell pregnant, I had two main wishes: Let me have a big, strong baby. And please let me breastfeed without any issues. My baby was born at a generous 4kg and breastfeeding has been a fairly easy journey, and for that I’m incredibly thankful. But is it okay if I’m ready to have my boobs back, please?
And before you start with the whole “breast is best” conversation, I knoooooow. I know WHO says I should go at it until they are at least two and that as soon as I stop they’ll start getting sick and I’ve heard all the “do you know all the benefits” and “breast milk is basically the most incredible magic sauce on the planet” – which it is. But then I look at beautiful summer tops and I think, oh but I can’t wear that, it won’t cover my maternity bra.
You see, the maternity bra, while the most comfortable piece of underwear I’ve ever owned, is also highly unflattering. Shapeless, some variation of nude or grey, and almost always covered in curious stains. And I have to wear it ALL THE TIME, even when I’m sleeping, to avoid a “cleanup on aisle six” every morning. My desire to sleep without a bra is bordering on period chocolate cravings.
Then there are the powerhouse nursing sessions at night. Look, my baby is a dream when it comes to feeding and she really has a gentle approach – except for that one week where she wanted to test drive her new bottom teeth. That wasn’t fun. Despite her soft touch, after 20 minutes of non stop clamp action I was udderly done! Da-da-dish.
Plus, to be honest, I am tired of having big boobs. I liked my small boobs. I could go running without the constant tha-thunk and risk of knocking myself in the face. Unfortunately I realise that things are never going back to their perky selves. Once the superfood boob smoothie dries up, I’ll have to make peace with the new squishy, cross-eyed state of things.
It’s been eight months and I’m ready for a full night’s sleep without navigating the many million limbs of a sleeping baby. (I can hear you mom’s sniggering. I’m stuck with this for a while, aren’t I?)
Then I watch her nestled in my arms, and when she looks up she gives me the biggest smile. In these moments she is so completely safe. And we have this thing, she and I, that we share.
Skin to skin. Right up against my heart.
In these moments I remember how incredible it is that my body is taking care of this tiny human. How lucky am I to have these two weird squishy bumps that make this baby so perfectly happy? That keep her healthy, and give her everything she needs to grow up strong.
And while I am so completely ready to have my body back, can I also hit the pause button for a little while longer?
Is that too much to ask?