After 20 long months I’ve decided it’s time to stop breastfeeding Little B. He’s never slept through the night, and I’ve come to the conclusion he’s not going to until he’s weaned off the boob.
Over the last few months I’ve been slowly cutting out feeds in a bid to avoid the dreaded mastitis, first in the daytime and now at night.
As a result my boobs are slowly but surely shrinking back to their original size (although sadly they don’t look quite the same as they did before!) and I can at long last fit back into my nice pretty pre-pregnancy bras.
This got me thinking about my once-white nursing bras, which are now a rather mottled shade of grey due to being washed and worn continually for almost two years now.
I have to say I’ll be glad to see the back of them, but at the same time I’m feeling sad as ditching them means my baby really isn’t a baby anymore.
When I stopped breastfeeding BB at 21 months I wrote her a poem, so I thought I’d continue the tradition and pen another one to mark the occasion. This time, though, the poem is to my nursing bras, not my baby.
An Ode to my nursing bras
Oh how I hate thee
Let me count the ways
Like your plastic clips
Which reveal my bits
In the most unflattering of ways
You’re not at all sexy
Instead you’re super flexi
With great big straps
and lots of flaps
That frighten off the chaps
When it comes to colour
It really doesn’t get much duller
You can have black or white
But nothing bright
Mine are really quite a sight!
But despite your looks
And numerous hooks
Part of me must admit
I’ll miss you just a little bit
And so will both my t*ts
You really were very comfy
With no wires to dig and pinch
And plenty of room
For my bosom to bloom
And grow inch by inch
Your industrial scale padding
Disguised many a leak
And soothed my poor swollen boobies
You didn’t need to be chic
I’m really tempted to bin you
And replace you with something new
But you remind me of being a new mummy
And my tiny baby too
So for now you can stay in my drawer
Even though I don’t need you anymore
To remind me of those special days
Which were priceless in so many ways.
Did you breastfeed and did you have a love/hate relationship with your nursing bras? Or did you never have the pleasure?
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