You may not want to read this.
I figure that now is the time when I can say whatever I want. I am bereaved, after all. So I want to talk about breasts.
It seems a great injustice that in addition to all the sorrow of losing my little baby girl, I have to also undergo the unpleasantness of binding my breasts. Normally after you have a baby, you still look like you are about 5 months pregnant, but at least you have the benefit of having large milky bosoms. Their bountiful state helps to compensate for your lumpy tummy, allowing you to still manage to have some sort of womanly shape. Not so for me this time. Not only is their growth not encouraged, I have to go to extra lengths to keep them compressed. So right above my puffy, alien looking abdomen, I have an attractive ace bandage wrap holding in my mammary glands.
The good news is that when I look at myself in the mirror I am reminded of the character from the BC cartoon and that makes me laugh. I am also reminded of my dear friend who was on a worship team as a young woman, where she was required to "bind her breasts" so as not to cause any men to be distracted from the holiness of God when she was dancing. What made this so funny was that she was just a young lady, not much endowed at the time, and the ace bandage she had to wear probably gave her more cleavage than was there in the first place. :) So I smile.
Also, it is possible to get overzealous in one's binding. When we went to church I told Titus to wrap me extra tight (God forbid my bandage would come loose in church!). He told me he had never seen me so flat chested ( I think he was proud of his Herculean binding efforts). In my earnestness to stay put together, I had been bound too tightly; I started to have chest pains. We had to sneak into the family restroom to loosen my bindings at church. I think I may have bruised my ribs. I would have never made it in the days of corsets. Anyhow, these are just the silly things I find amusing that help me to pinch myself and remember that I am really alive, this is not just a bad dream.
When my friend lost her baby at about 5 months, no one told her that she would have to deal with milk production. How unfortunate, for it is a major bummer. It hurts like heck.
I am especially bummed about not being able to breastfeed. There are three things that I am better than average at, they are: sleeping, crying, and breastfeeding. I was born to milk. My sister would always mockingly moo at me when I nursed the boys. Truth is she was really just jealous because I was such a prolific producer of milk. As you can imagine, that is not a benefit when one is trying to squelch their milk supply.
Also, as all you other breastfeeding moms know, it is a truly remarkable experience. I will admit that at first the idea weirded me out (and still does a little). I think that is cultural, because it really is a most natural expression. There is nothing like being able to hold a soft little pink bundle next to your skin and know that you are giving them life. You are sustaining them, loving them, and helping them grow. It is such a special closeness. There is a feeling of knowing that you are completely needed. It feels good. I'm really gonna miss that.
It seems a great injustice that in addition to all the sorrow of losing my little baby girl, I have to also undergo the unpleasantness of binding my breasts. Normally after you have a baby, you still look like you are about 5 months pregnant, but at least you have the benefit of having large milky bosoms. Their bountiful state helps to compensate for your lumpy tummy, allowing you to still manage to have some sort of womanly shape. Not so for me this time. Not only is their growth not encouraged, I have to go to extra lengths to keep them compressed. So right above my puffy, alien looking abdomen, I have an attractive ace bandage wrap holding in my mammary glands.
The good news is that when I look at myself in the mirror I am reminded of the character from the BC cartoon and that makes me laugh. I am also reminded of my dear friend who was on a worship team as a young woman, where she was required to "bind her breasts" so as not to cause any men to be distracted from the holiness of God when she was dancing. What made this so funny was that she was just a young lady, not much endowed at the time, and the ace bandage she had to wear probably gave her more cleavage than was there in the first place. :) So I smile.
Also, it is possible to get overzealous in one's binding. When we went to church I told Titus to wrap me extra tight (God forbid my bandage would come loose in church!). He told me he had never seen me so flat chested ( I think he was proud of his Herculean binding efforts). In my earnestness to stay put together, I had been bound too tightly; I started to have chest pains. We had to sneak into the family restroom to loosen my bindings at church. I think I may have bruised my ribs. I would have never made it in the days of corsets. Anyhow, these are just the silly things I find amusing that help me to pinch myself and remember that I am really alive, this is not just a bad dream.
When my friend lost her baby at about 5 months, no one told her that she would have to deal with milk production. How unfortunate, for it is a major bummer. It hurts like heck.
I am especially bummed about not being able to breastfeed. There are three things that I am better than average at, they are: sleeping, crying, and breastfeeding. I was born to milk. My sister would always mockingly moo at me when I nursed the boys. Truth is she was really just jealous because I was such a prolific producer of milk. As you can imagine, that is not a benefit when one is trying to squelch their milk supply.
Also, as all you other breastfeeding moms know, it is a truly remarkable experience. I will admit that at first the idea weirded me out (and still does a little). I think that is cultural, because it really is a most natural expression. There is nothing like being able to hold a soft little pink bundle next to your skin and know that you are giving them life. You are sustaining them, loving them, and helping them grow. It is such a special closeness. There is a feeling of knowing that you are completely needed. It feels good. I'm really gonna miss that.
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