an ode to boobies and milk

There is nothing that brings me as much joy as nursing my babies. Sure, sometimes it is challenging but there is something so special about those moments that they wholly outweigh the momentary frustrations.

It does suck(le) that my boobs are extra milky and leak all over everything making laundry a bitch and causing me to have constantly wet clothing. You would think I only mean nursing pads or maybe a shirt but it gets all over the baby and my pants too. The milk soaks through the pads and my shirt on to my pants and maybe on the baby’s onesie and my arm… It’s pretty crazy and three months in I’m still over producing though there is much less milk than initially. I’m okay with that though. I kind of feel excellently about having too much milk- milk for the world is how I see it. I also know some mommies struggle immensely to produce enough milk so I consider myself quite fortunate to have the opposite predicament despite that having its own challenges that I won’t go into here other than to say it gets wet around these parts.

It is a bust my boobs grew so large the first baby that there are stretch marks all over them and now the ligaments have loosened making my breasts lose their perkiness. But I love that they sustained life and grew so huge and when they’re plump with milk it’s just perfection. The big boobies you fantasize about when you’re a little girl are hanging out right there. They’re heavy and make me want to slouch (a constant exercise in tadasana alignment points) but it’s fun to stare. When the milk is gone and they deflate to whatever the new normal is, it made me sad at first but then I was okay with it despite my little boobs being extra wiggly and wiggling out of bra cups like a secret homage to sketch comedy (is that what I think it is?).

All that aside, it’s part of the journey that makes this nursing thing so awesome. I love when the little one latches on- that first connection of the session is so perfect! I love the feeling of holding my baby in my arms while they feed their developing mind and body. I love feeling the tiny cheeks with my fingers as the little one nurses. I love the milk-drunk faces and the little smiles while they suckle in their sleep. I absolutely adore the sleep-nursing when they aren’t even touching me and their lips purse like fish and their tongue moves rapidly like it is taking milk from my chest. I love how upset, sadness, frustration and all manner of ailment can be helped with boob. I love when babies get older and they sign “milk” for you, when they cuddle with you only once a day, when your special time together is for nursing. It’s been my child’s sustenance and my own.

My body tells a story with the left-over marks of child rearing and childbirth and my body sustains the life I cherished within for so long. Nursing- this sustenance- is something that no one can take from me. I’m born with it; my kids are born with it. It is a bond that I cultivated with my child that makes me feel important to myself and to them. See you can tell me that daddies are just as important as mommies and you can take me to court and tell me this and have the state agree with you… But no matter what any state says, what any man says, or what any mommy does with her boobs, the truth remains that mommies make milk and that milk sustains babies.

I adore the moments I spend nursing. It is my bliss and while you imagine this is a breast is best argument, consider it more a “bonding is best” ode. I just want to be close to my babies and intimate as a mother- when they leave my womb I feel so sad that I am no longer sure I can protect them. They are so vulnerable outside my uterine walls- my milk is my consolation to them and reassurance to them that I will always do my best to take care of them and always appease their pains. When they feel comfortable enough to fall asleep, I feel comforted knowing I could give that gift of trust and love and security as well as nurturance.

It doesn’t matter if you make enough milk or not or formula feed or not- your boobs are magical; your role as mother is the supreme magic. My boobs are magical and I appreciate this magic because I am a mother. I never understood that magic quite like I do now. It’s not always easy nursing or being a mother, but it’s always worth it.

Leave a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


Get every new post on this blog delivered to your Inbox.

Join other followers: