I'm pleased to present a guest post today by Kia, a mom-to-be who plans to breastfeed, and is learning to embrace her breasts for the first time.
My bewbies magically appeared between the ages of 12 and 13. I had little ant hills before then but they blossomed into a B-cup almost overnight. I was a complete tomboy at the time and was massively embarrassed by them. They made playing volleyball and basketball a little awkward until I learned about the harnessing power of the uniboob sport bra. That only worked at practice though. When I would re-emerge into the real world I had other issues to be concerned about.
If I ever wore a form-fitting shirt I was suddenly getting male attention, and sadly a lot of time from people that were older than me. I began to hunch my shoulders as habit but my breasts were still there. The unwanted male attention was still there. It was icky in my mind but I dealt with it.
I dealt with it into my adulthood. My breasts have always been a perky B-cup that have flattered my silhouette, even as I gained weight in the last few years. It is only in pregnancy that I am beginning to appreciate them. Before now I hated that they were only a secondary sexual characteristic that men have wanted to fondle or do goodness knows what with. When people would get too forward at a club and catch me in a bad mood I would usually snap that they were just mounds of fat and to get over it.
When I found my husband I was relieved to learn he was a booty man and never made a big deal about them. He liked and complimented them after we had been going out for a while, but they did not entice him in creepy ways like they had others in my past. It was a nice reassurance in a weird way. Then in my 7th week of pregnancy they swelled to a D-cup and he shyly admitted a new admiration for them. He was respectful though because he knows how I have felt about them in my past.
This is the past though. I am now 29 weeks pregnant. They are still a D, waiting to expand again before I give birth or after when I am engorged to deliver milk. I love them now. Aesthetically they are a little big for my taste, but they harness an unbelievable gift in my mind. I will be able to nourish a child with them. As a mammal I will be able to use my mammaries for their intended purpose. The purpose that puts me in the same category with many other animals and humans the world over. The purpose to feed a life after I deliver.
There has been some prolonged staring at them, even by well-meaning friends who are caught holding a glance too long. I am now able to laugh it off because there is a higher purpose than a secondary-sexual trait. I am not shy to wear a form fitting top or dress because I am pregnant and beautiful. I think with pregnancy comes an honesty and disregard for the silliness of others.
For me at this stage in my pregnancy I am reading breastfeeding books, participating with online breastfeeding forums, planning to attend my first La Leche League meeting later this month, and prepping supplies at home for when baby gets here. I am preparing as much as I can. My only wish at this point is that my body does what it needs to do to feed my baby, and that the baby is able to be fed. There are no guarantees that it always works out for mom and babe, but I am approaching the nursing stage with an appreciative optimism for the two mounds of fat resting on my chest.
Kia is eagerly expecting her first baby in June. She makes her home in Colorado and spends her time working on behalf of natural resources, teaching yoga, and taking pictures. You can read more of her writing at her Bodhi Bear blog.
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