Dear Boobies: I miss you, please come back

“GO Crater!!!!!” my friends yelled from the grandstands.  I’m sure the judges thought they were nuts.  I tuned them out and kept jumping (well, my pony did the actual jumping).  I can’t remember how long I had that nickname, but it was a long time.  It didn’t really bother me, I thought it was funny.  After all, it was true.  Well, ok, I didn’t have craters instead of boobs.  I just didn’t have any boobs.

My friend gave me an “Itty Bitty Titty Club” card once.  I still remember the silly poem on the back:

Itty Bitty soft and pretty, little breasts make better chests.  I carried that little card around in my wallet for years.

But then I came to Australia.  I don’t know if there are steroids or growth hormones or something in the chicken here, but suddenly, I had boobs.  I left an A, came back a C.  Sure, I’d put on a bit of weight while here.  I suppose that’s what happens when you were so fussy that you lived off of cheese pizza, macaroni and cheese and turkey hot dogs. Then you pull the stick of out your bum and start trying new things and realise hey, it’s not too bad.  Plus, this country has Tim Tams.  And cheesy nuggets, and my host mum Linda’s chef class cooking.  I lost my Australia pudge, but lucky for me, my boobs stayed.  I still remember my very first C-cup bra.  White with polka dots and convertible straps.

When I got pregnant, my boobs got even bigger.  Or maybe they just got sore, I don’t know.  They definitely got even bigger when I started breastfeeding.  Especially if Hannah didn’t wake overnight and I woke up in a puddle of milk and they were rock hard.

But now, breastfeeding is over, I’m not pregnant, and the chicken just doesn’t seem to be doing it’s job.  I suppose I thought they’d just go back to their pre-pregnancy size.  That seemed logical.  But no, that was not to be.  Instead, when I wear my bra, no longer is it filled by my boobies.  Now, fabric hangs down below my boobs, with nothing to hold it up, nothing to keep it in place.  I move my arm and my bra pretty much goes up to my neck.  I hunch a little bit and the straps fall down to my elbows.

“What’s going on, your bra is way too big for you?”  Aaron said to me the other day.  That was the straw that broke the camels back.  I was kind of hoping my MIA boobies would suddenly run back to me, happy and excited from their vacation, ecstatic about being reunited with me.

“My boobies shrank,” I said with a sad look on my face.

“Why don’t you get some new bras?”  Hm…good idea.

So that’s what I did today.  I went bra shopping.  I didn’t trust myself to figure out my new, smaller, sadder size.  I went to Bras ‘n things and got fitted.  I am now (sigh, gasp, sad face) an 8B.  Or (because that is nearly impossible to find) I could also go for the 10A.  Ten A?????????!!!!!!!!!!??????  I thought maybe a 10B, only 1 size smaller, that wouldn’t be so bad, but TWO SIZES SMALLER??!  What happens when I have another baby?  Will I turn into an 8AAA?  And then what if I have 2 more babies, or twins?  Then I really will be Crater.

I didn’t mind not having boobs.  But then I got some, and I really liked them.  And now I would really like them back.  They didn’t even stick around for 10 years.  😦

Oh, and I tried on a 10A in the store, and it pains me to say this, but it was a little big. Not around, but in the cup.  That’s just sad.  At least an 8B sounds better (we’ll just pretend the the actual cup size isn’t actually smaller than a 10A.  I know, bra sizes are confusing.).  Before today, I didn’t even know they made size 8 bras.  Sigh….

Dear boobies:

Time since birth: 3 months
Total weight loss: I decided I’m not going to update that every week from now on. I’ll just let you know when I get back to normal

Dear Boobies,
Please refrain from leaking while I sleep. I don’t particularly enjoy waking up in a puddle of milk (nor does Aaron enjoy trying to cuddle me while sleeping only to be met with sticky milk). I fed Hannah only 4 hours before waking up in said puddle. Why would you leak on me like that. I really thought we were past that, it’s been so long since you previously made puddles in the bed. How about you go back to waking me up when you are full by feeling sore and engorged, instead of leaking everywhere? I promise I’ll be happy when you wake me up that way. Ok, maybe not happy, but not cranky.
Thanks,
Sheri

Pllffttt. Grandma and I looked at each other and giggled. We were with Hannah in the waiting room at the cardiologists office. Hannah gave us a cheeky grin and did another big fart. We couldn’t contain ourselves this time and burst out laughing. Hopefully everyone else in the waiting room knew it was the baby making such noises and not me or Grandma, but we couldn’t stop laughing anyway. PPPLLFFTTT!! Hannah was trying to blow Grandma’s lap off. Tears started rolling down my cheeks from so much laughing. Changing her diaper, I saw the biggest poo Hannah had ever done. It was a 4-wiper poo. I usually only need to use 1 or 2.

The Cardiologist called us in and I took Hannah’s shirt off. He got out the ultrasound thingy mabobby, put it on her chest, and she giggled. Amused, the cardiologist leaned down to try to get her to laugh again. Bang! Hannah kicked him in the face. She thinks it’s amusing to kick people (probably because we laugh when she kicks her little legs, and we laugh harder when she kicks us with her little legs). I couldn’t help but laugh, and then explained to the cardiologist that it was a game we play.

Hannah was very well behaved during the exam, and the little hole in her heart has amazingly shrunk a little bit. It may close completely, but even if it doesn’t, it’s unlikely to do her any harm. We don’t have to go back until she is 2 years old. As soon as the cardiologist was done, Hannah decided she was hungry and screamed the house down.

In the waiting room, I whipped out my boob. Grandma tried to shield me with the pram. Judging by the horrified expression on her face, I’d say that in Grandma’s day, people didn’t just whip their boobs out in public to feed their babies. I don’t mind feeding Hannah in public, but there are some people who I would not feed in front of. Top of the list: all of my male relatives. Also, the ministers at church. For some reason, I just couldn’t do it in front of them, it would be weird.

Playing with Hannah on the bed, Daddy sat her up. She looked pretty stable, so Aaron let go. Hannah sat up un aided for about 30 seconds. I rushed to get the video camera, but she doesn’t like to perform with the camera out. I think the camera itself is far too fascinating. She loves technology too (Daddy’s girl!), always grabbing at and touching keyboards, laptops, mobile phones and ipods. She’s a clever girl!

It was good being heavily pregnant during winter rather than summer so I didn’t get too hot, but there is one drawback. The electricity bill! At $496, the electricity bill for keeping Hannah warm was our highest ever.