Girls Gone Wild

I want to talk about boobs for a minute.  Because I had a child one week ago today, and the only thing I have thought about for seven days is my boobs.  This might all be a little TMI, but let’s be honest, childbirth builds a barricade around your sense of modesty, and no one is immune from hearing about or viewing your very private parts.

After nursing #1 for six months and #2 for one week, I think everyone I’ve ever met has seen my boobs: friends, mother-in-law, the Instacart delivery guy.  And it’s definitely not in the ill-advised collegiate one-too-many-vodka-tonics kind of way or the spring break bathing suit malfunction kind of way.  It’s obvious, deadpan, and matter-of-fact.  There’s no sense of booze-infused brazenness or sloppy embarrassment.  It’s just, “yeah, these are my boobs, can you pass me my water bottle?”

And if any of you out there haven’t seen my boobs and think perhaps this is some sort of bizarre, narcissistic plot to flaunt tatas that look like they’ve recently been inflated with silicon, it’s not like that at all.  Nursing boobs aren’t pretty.  They’re huge.  And I don’t mean perky porn-star huge.  I mean King Kong stomping around NYC huge.  Giant boulders that Sisyphus was condemned to forever roll up a hill in Hades huge.  I don’t think there’s a nursing mom around who hasn’t seriously considered pulling out her food scale and plopping one of those bad boys down on it to see how much it really weighs, because it feels like bowling balls dangling from very thing ropes that are seconds away from snapping.

And then you get the new mas-cessories.  There are veins and milk ducts and cracked nipples. And there’s accouterments on top of those: lanolin, gel packs, ice packs, nipple shields.  Basically, the inside of your bra becomes like a pharmaceutical terrarium, dangling from the sky. If you ever wanted to demystify the allure of the breast, spend thirty minutes with a nursing mom.  The second that child enters this world, boobs take on a whole new meaning.  They are functional, not ornamental.  They are built for utility, not for aesthetics.  They are factual, not taboo.  They no longer belong to you or your partner; they are the sole property of the eight-pound milk-tyrant you created.

So because of the grave importance of these nourishment-doling bazingas, the bras you use to house these bad boys become vital to your comfort.  For me, I knew I was losing all sense of ownership over my boobs, but that doesn’t mean I want to look down at a dowdy, shapeless, nude nursing bra 65 times a day.  I’ve still got to be me somewhere.  So before having #2, I went on a quest to find the cutest, most comfortable nursing bras I could that would offer both support and (literal and figurative) solace.

         

  1. Motherhood Maternity underwire full coverage: This bra is perfect all day long.  The material is super soft, and it offers plenty of support, especially dealing with engorgement.
  2. Motherhood Maternity seamless full coverage: This is my fave bra for overnight.  It has removable pads and allows these suckers to breathe without being exposed to the elements.
  3. Cake Lingerie parfait flexi wire: I love this brand because their bras look like legit bras you’d find in Victoria’s Secret.  This bra is really pretty, which is why I was initially attracted to it.  But the flexi wire is also awesome because it feels like a hybrid of underwire and seamless.
  4. La Leche League International sports bra: I haven’t worked out yet, but I remember this being a great sports bra when I was nursing #1.  Also, it is still super comfortable for those times I just don’t feel like having underwire on my skin.

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