Before having kids, I had some pretty adorable breasts. They were small, perky, and shaped just right. But after having my children and choosing to breastfeed, things changed drastically. My second child, Oliver, loves nursing, and after a year of serving as his personal milk jug, I hardly recognize my breasts anymore. Here are some key lessons I’ve learned along the way:
- My Breasts Are Now a Comfort Object. Specifically, my left breast has become Oliver’s go-to comfort item. He can’t seem to drift off to sleep unless he’s cuddled up against it like a pillow. By bedtime, it’s like a fluffy cushion that he needs to nurse dry before he can settle down. During the day, if he needs comfort—whether from a toy being taken by his big brother or a bump on the head—my shirt becomes the perfect hiding place for his ‘Binky’.
- Dad, Keep Your Hands Off. It’s uncanny how my son can sense when my husband is even thinking about getting close to my chest. He’s like a tiny Jedi protecting his milk supply! After kids, intimacy becomes a challenge anyway, but when my husband reaches out to touch, it feels even more awkward because my body doesn’t differentiate between baby time and couple time.
- Nursing in Public. This part genuinely made me anxious. While pregnant, I read countless stories of women facing public shaming for nursing. Although I’m typically unflappable, the thought of exposing myself in public was daunting. However, one day in the grocery store, when Oliver started wailing, I instinctively pulled out my breast and began nursing him right there while I searched for baby wipes.
- Less Wine, More Whine. One of the toughest realizations about breastfeeding is that I can’t indulge in wine like I used to. Unless I want to pump and dump, I have to be cautious about what I drink to ensure it doesn’t affect my milk supply. I love my wine, but I have to remind myself that my little one wouldn’t appreciate it. So, I often find myself complaining about it! But hey, he has to wean someday, right?
- Goodbye to Fancy Bras. I used to have an assortment of bras in every color and style, but now I’m embracing the freedom of going bra-less. My cup size fluctuates throughout the day, and with Oliver always trying to pull a breast out of my shirt, wearing a bra feels pointless—like wearing a turtleneck to prom!
Nursing is no easy feat. It tests a mother’s patience, physical appearance, libido, and ability to accomplish anything. While I truly cherish my time with Oliver, I can’t help but miss my pre-baby breasts.
What have you learned from breastfeeding?
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