I’m just going to say it: I’ve always had big breasts. I was a full C in high school and every year since they grew. I remember the good ole days when I was naive and gleeful about my full, natural chest. But then I became wiser.
A few years back, a co-worker of mine was breastfeeding at work. She also had a decent-sized chest, and we were laughing about how breastfeeding just made them bigger. Then she took one look at my childless 34DDD rack and said, “They’re going to be HUGE once you have kids.”
It didn’t really bother me… at the time.
After I had my daughter, my psychic friend was right. My breasts were HUGE. So large, in fact, that my husband would lift them up as to not suffocate my 5 lb, 14 oz. newborn while she fed. (Later we learned that with the nose is positioned at the breast during feedings, it’s impossible to do. So go get ‘em, my big-breasted, breastfeeding ladies!)
But, breastfeeding didn’t last long for me. After my postpartum depression diagnosis, my daughter couldn’t drink my milk due to the medication that I was taking.
In a way, I was relieved.
“My breasts will go down!” I thought. “Maybe I can fit into my pre-pregnancy bra…”
Well, my friends, they did not go down. My shiny and happy idea of fitting into my 34DDD bras evaporated. And the stretchy, unsupportive breastfeeding sport bras had to go.
Therefore, I decided to bite the bullet and go real bra-shopping. Each breast was sincerely the size of a child’s head, so Victoria’s Secret didn’t even have the letter to cover what I needed.
I accepted my fate and headed to Dillard’s for an “old lady mom” bra. The woman helping me was nice enough for my humiliating and enlightening bra-fitting. (I realized I never really had a true bra fitting until this experience.)
In the fitting room, she asked me to take off my current bra, bend over, and then measured areas I didn’t even know needed to be measured. She then came back with about 2,893,829 bras until the right “lift” was found…
The perfect fit was a 40I.
As in A, B, C, D, E, F, G THE ALPHABET IS ABOUT TO END SOON. THERE ARE NO MORE LETTERS.
With that, I’m just going to say it…
It’s OK to not like your post-pregnancy body.
I hate my breasts. They’re saggy; they’re heavy; the nipples are a weird brown color ever since giving birth; I have back problems; they make me look bigger than I am; sex is different, and sometimes people just see my chest and not me.
After having our final child (many years from now), I am unapologetically getting a breast reduction to a comfortable, freeing size.
But, let’s face it. My breasts aren’t the only thing that changed after giving birth. My stomach has rolls for days. No matter how much cardio I do or calories I cut. I diagonally pee now (if that even makes sense). All Coke products taste sugarless to me. I had to get new glasses immediately after I gave birth; my eyesight got worse. It’s just this new body that I have to accept… and it’s freaking hard.
I read all the stories about losing weight after birth because breastfeeding burns so many calories. I was truly banking on that, but was sidetracked by reality.
I wish I could go around and be like, “Accept yourself. You’re a beautiful unicorn! La, la, la…”
But the truth is that it’s HARD to change that perspective months after giving birth and adjusting to a new life with your child and marriage. It’s work. And guess what?
That’s not to say that I should look in the mirror completely disliking myself. But, part of self-love is self care. That’s just what I plan to continue doing.