Now don’t take this post the wrong way – I’m all for the “Mama Confidence” thing – I absolutely adore what my body has achieved and what it can do with regards to creating, growing, birthing and feeding my children. But we don’t all feel that way all the time. I left the hospital feeling like Wonder Woman, but it’s the weeks that follow when I look and think “oh that belly is still here then”. When you’re pregnant you see your body change every day, it morphs slowly and if you’re anything like me the sight of your growing belly fills you with a sense of pride and desire to show it to the world. I think pregnant is when I feel most confident in my body.
Then I give birth and I’m left with what I can only describe as looking like I’ve been hit by a car and absolutely nothing like my former self. My clothes don’t fit, my boobs are two different sizes and I’m covered in a layer of “insulation” which sounds much nicer than fat. Anything that does fit is about as useful to me as a third nipple (which coincidentally I also own but that’s another story) because I can’t breastfeed in it.
Which brings me to my next point – nursing clothes. Google them, you’ll find that they are all “maternity/nursing” and have bump room. Why do I need bump room? it’s the bump I’m now trying to find a relatively discreet way of feeding. What I need is boob and arse room, on account of that layer of insulation. The two nursing dresses I own are so stuck to me I look like linked sausages, which is exactly what I wanted when a photo of me wearing one has been posted by Mumii – the mums entertainment website – on their Instagram while I was testing pushchairs for the Best Baby & Toddler Gear Awards.
Not forgetting nursing bras man…fucking hell. If I’m going to spend £40 on an over the shoulder boulder holder with clips for releasing the milky beasts I want them to look fucking fantastic doing so. But they don’t.
I need one with industrial support that I don’t actually think exists because truth be told my boobs are different sizes – Lefty is a little anorexic compared to Righty.
One of the joys of breastfeeding is leaking – I mean give me a couple hours not feeding and I would totally win the giant teddy in the watergun game at a fun fair. So breastpads were invented. No one invented ones that stayed in place though did they. Anywhere except my bra is where they tend to rock up. Most recently I found one in the shower stuck under Lefty, literally right under there. And the worst part was I’d washed under there already and totally not noticed til it had absorbed so much water my boob lifted up. I blame fatigue.
God only knows how long it had been there, possibly since after my shower the day before. Maybe longer.
So from now on I own 2 pairs of control pants and always check twice for breast pads.
Playdates & Milkshakes 