This is an article written by Rachel Inbar Fertility Stories
For me to be writing about breasts is at least as surprising as it would be for me to write about cars. I’ve had them for a while and I know how they work, but mine were never anything special.
The first time I ever noticed a change (except for their early growth that made it painful for me to walk down stairs) was when I was pregnant with my first child. I had gone from an “almost A” teenager to a “barely B” young woman, when in my fifth month I zipped past “close to C”, “definitely D” and found myself ever-nearing E. You wouldn’t believe the stretch marks… or the sag (they say it’s genetic, but would it really have happened if they’d never grown so much?).
If you’re going to have breasts that sag at age 25, they may as well be small ones that are easy to hide… It was also good that mine hadn’t been the kind to show off before the sagging began, so it wasn’t nearly as disappointing as it might have been otherwise.
I breastfed my daughter until she was 6 months old. It was convenient and I loved the power of being the only one with the magic of being able to calm her at any moment.
I later breastfed my twin son and daughter (though rarely simultaneously) until they were almost 9 months old. I once pumped 2 quarts of milk in a day and calculated how much money I was saving on formula… OK, so if they weren’t good for show, at least they were low maintenance and economical.
My youngest daughter was born recently and again I found myself remarkably close to “ever-nearing E”. As we were leaving the house for a party in her honor, my middle daughter commented, “Aren’t your breasts too big?” to which I responded, “Yes, but I don’t have time to change them now, so let’s go!”
And of course she was right, I feel like such a fake… It was just a few years ago that my sister and another good friend asked me (after a very successful diet) if I still needed a bra… They thought it was funny… (It wasn’t that funny.) So for now I’m checking out how dresses look when there’s something to put in the top part. My bathing suit top doesn’t fit (!) and I even have cleavage (me, cleavage?!?). Mostly, I think it’s funny and I’m trying to remember to enjoy it while it lasts.
If there’s one thing I will remember about my breasts after all their ups and downs, this is it: there’s nothing sweeter than seeing your baby’s sleeping face resting peacefully on your bare breast.
