Thursday, December 1, 2016

How breastfeeding got me to love my breasts!

   So, this is a kitchen witch blog. This is a blog by a female Wiccan. In Wicca, we acknowledge a Goddess. Feminism is HUGE in Wicca. So, I thought it was appropriate to do a post about breasts. You read that right. Breasts. You might call them Boobs, Titties, Tatas, Fun bags, Milk makers, or like me, affectionately refer to them as Laverne and Shirley. Whatever you call them, I think it's safe to say that most women have a love/hate relationship with their breasts.
Take me, for example. For years I was teased about my small breast size. In middle school when all the other girls were blossoming, I hadn't even begun to bud. I could have gone my entire high school career without ever really needing to wear a bra (let's be honest...nobody really NEEDS to wear one, but it's the social norm so go with it). I was called a plethora of names by the boys. See, I was always cute (at least I think so), but I was a stick figure with awkward social skills. I think I confused the boys. See, it's an "in thing" to be attracted to big boobs and big butts with sweet, giggly personalities, especially when you're a middle schooler and all sorts of things are getting *ahem* bigger. So, my theory is that my face was cute and boys dug it, but I didn't have all the goods, so in order for the boys to feel normal they made fun of me in front of the other boys. I have this theory, because of several private conversations with said boys. 😜
  Anywho, growing up was weird for me because I had this cute face on a stick figure body. I was bumpable, but not quite humpable, if you know what I'm saying. So, when I got pregnant with my first born at 20 I thought I was about to come into some curves and finally be recognized as a woman and not a prepubescent girl. I was so wrong. My boobs grew alright. They grew to a large B in pregnancy and then a large C when my milk came in, but quickly went right back to my large A, small B size when my milk went away. I hated my breasts even more after having my daughter, not only because they had teased me, but because they had also failed me and my daughter in the breastfeeding process. I dried up due to stress after about a month of painfully trying to nurse my child that preferred just my left breast and had a terrible latch. Now, I know, I wasn't my boobies faults. I know that now, but back then I was not as knowledgeable about breastfeeding as I am now.
The same growth pattern happened with the birth of my son, my second born. Although, this time, it wasn't my breasts that hindered the breastfeeding process. My sweet boy was born with a severe bilateral cleft lip and palate. He had to use a special bottle and wasn't able to latch. The stress of the pumping and constant doctors appointments and dealing with a high energy, strong willed toddler caused me to get mastitis, which is a nasty, painful infection in the milk ducts. I stopped pumping a month and a half after he was born and when the milk went away, so did my tig ol' bitties! Side note: After 3 surgeries in his first year, my son's cleft was repaired and he is doing fine, except for this long road of orthodontic work and speech therapy. He is happy and healthy!
  When I got pregnant with baby number three I was surprisingly happy, despite the fact that we couldn't afford another baby at the time. For some reason, my body was so in tune with this child from day one. It was very different than my other pregnancies and I knew very early on that it was going to be a girl. See, I found Wicca after I had my son. I started listening to my intuition and my body more, once I converted. I knew this child was special. My other two are special as well, I'm not THAT much of an asshole. But, my baby girl, who we appropriately named Willow, filled me with peace and love and happiness like I had never felt before. She is 2 now and has since carried those attributes with her. She is the sweetest, happiest, most helpful baby I have ever known. I birthed her in 1 hour and 45 minutes and when she was placed on my chest she immediately found my breast and latched perfectly. She hasn't wanted to leave my breasts since. She has cuddled up to them in all their various sizes and loved them equally, one just as much as the other. My breasts have calmed her temper tantrums, fixed her boo boos, comforted her to sleep, and made her smile and giggle as she looks up at me and rubs my face with sleepy eyes. I remember a couple of hilariously outspoken, well meaning, yet rude, older southern female friends of the family making comments about how they "couldn't understand what my baby was sucking on, because there wasn't anything there". I was taken aback, but not surprised as I have heard this shit my entire life by the *ahem* thicker women in my families circle of friends.
  Having a successful breastfeeding experience has taught me that my breasts are not broken. There is nothing wrong with having small boobs. I love my breasts because they have nurtured my child, helped her grow strong and smart and have given her some really wonderful antibodies to fight off sickness. My milk has also helped to cure pink eye, ear infections and has helped heal some nasty cuts. All in all, the past 26 months that I have been nursing my daughter have given me a different perspective on my small breasts. They might be small, but they are mighty! Our breasts are not just for show. They are a really awesome part of the female body! They are a really awesome part of MY body! No matter how big or how small they may be. I love my breasts! And through that revelation I have come to love myself a little bit more. And I feel like I can finally give the middle finger out to everyone that has had something negative to say about my body instead of meekly smiling and pretending it doesn't bother me. Because, fuck anyone that thinks they have the right to talk shit about someone else's body parts! So, on that note, Captain of the itty bitty titty committee out!

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