As Black Breastfeeding week comes to a close, I just wanted to take a minute and praise black mothers. It is hard-fought journey and I am so happy to be among you. In celebration, I am re-posting an essay I wrote about post-breastfeeding breasts a while back.
In this crazy adventure as a mother of two, so many odd and beautiful things have happened to this body of mine. After I had River, my firm and perky A cup filled to extreme measures in an effort to nurse my tiny girl. My body took on true woman form. The largest shock to my system was in fact, the size of my breasts.
Prior to her late arrival, I had experienced my fair share of bra-less days. To speak candidly, if it weren’t for nipples and my lack of knowledge for the power of a pastie, I’m sure bra-less days would have been of a regular occurrence. After becoming a mother for the first time, I invested what I could in two of the best darn nursing bras money could buy. The occasion was rather momentous. A trip to Macy’s, a fitting by a sweet and old school New Yorker, and what I deemed enough to carry me through my nursing days.
I failed to think about what could and would happen to my upper body after our nursing relationship came to a close. Just like I had failed to think of what nursing would do to my body in the first place. Like most mothers, with saying goodbye to nursing, came the arrival of a whole new set of breasts. A perky, but barely filling a A cup pair swiftly arrived.
Despite their state, I continued wearing my pre-mom bras. Victoria Secret lace hand-me-downs, lovingly given to me by my aunt years ago. The bras worked. They weren’t ideal, but they did the job. Lifted and protected, you get the idea.
When I got pregnant the second time, and again the third time, my breast did something weird. They took shape, filling up into their feeding ways quite easily. But once it was time for them to go back- they didn’t. Not even a little. They’re now much smaller than an A, and not even close to being perky, and really are pretty non-existent these days. Most days, a bra just seems silly and useless. Often, I am merely wearing one just to conform to a Brooklyn mother’s norm. No nips please!
Unlike my friends, who look at their smaller chests with distain, I am quite fond of it’s happenings. I know of the tireless work these girls have put in over the past 4 years. In addition, I don’t need or want more. In an attempt to style my post-partum body, I was faced with the same issue over and over again; feeling top heavy, with a bigger butt. It was new and difficult. Now with a smaller top, getting dressed just feels so much more enjoyable.