I love to fill my posts with stories and pictures and videos of Owen. But this post is going to be all about ME. Well, more like a lack of me. An absence of what once was. A situation I wasn’t quite prepared for.
As of a few weeks ago, I have no boobs.
Like, NO boobs.
Let me back up a second. I’ve always been a small-chested gal. And I awaited the day that I would get pregnant and could look forward to a little natural plumping in that department (among other things to be excited about, of course!). In the final weeks of my pregnancy, however, my boobs had barely budged an inch. My rib cage had expanded, so I outgrew all of my bras, but I didn’t see a huge difference in actual boobage. You know, cup size. I kept telling myself that when my milk came in, they would grow. And they did… eventually. I don’t remember it happening right in the beginning (though, let’s be honest, at that point I had put on about 40 pounds and everything was a bit plumper!), but once I started pumping and Owen was chowing down via a bottle, they really… uhhh… rose to the occasion. Yay! Despite the fact that they were super sensitive, I was happy with my new shape.
When I stopped breastfeeding (cold turkey, if you remember those few excrutiating days) I knew that they would deflate again. What I WASN’T prepared for, however, was that they would deflate MORE than they had grown!
That’s right. I have SMALLER boobs now than I did before I got pregnant. THAT’S something they don’t tell you in the baby books!
Sigh.
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