I’ve posted before about my securities and insecurities regarding my body and weight.
While I continue to struggle (and succeed!) at accomplishing the goals I set for myself, I’m never able to forget the hilarity that comes with having a “mom body,” as I’ve taken to calling it over the years.
As with any mother who breastfeeds, you often find yourself selecting shirts based upon how easy it is to nurse in them. I don’t know about you, but this gives me about 5 comfortable shirts to work with. The rest of the time I throw on a t-shirt and hike it up around my neck when it’s time to nurse.
I’m a size medium when it comes to t-shirts (XL when it comes to anything pretty, stretchy, with sleeves, etc). Well, I was. And I can’t seem to wrap my mind around the fact that mediums aren’t really made for me anymore.
Take this morning for example. I grabbed a shirt from the bottom of my drawer. It’s actually one of Jhavonn’s shirts, a shirt neither of us wear often. I hold it up and think, “Huh! This looks huge. Thank goodness. It should be easy to pull up to nurse later.” Two seconds later I’m trying to squeeze it on. I put it over my head, get my arms through, and work and work and wooooork its way down over my boobs, then my belly. I tug in all the right places to make sure it “fits” just right.
Now, you might say that I should just grab a bigger shirt. But I’m telling you, there aren’t that many. I didn’t run out and buy larges and XLs just because I got pregnant and knew I’d breastfeed. These shirts fit… okay. Not great, but they fit. And by golly, as long as I can get them over the mound that is my enormous breasts, I’ll keep wearing them. You might see a little belly jiggle (because the lower part of my stomach is still very loose), but so what. I’ve seen worse things while at the grocery store, and at least my t-shirt is covering all of my torso, am I right?
The mention of a jiggly belly brings me to my second and final topic in this post.
To put all of this in perspective for me, reminding me how necessary it is to have a jiggly, stretched out belly (it stretched and held a HUMAN!), is my little boy. Not only am I constantly reminded of the importance my stomach, muscles and skin held for those 9 months, but I’m also shown how hilarious this process of change can be.
Baby O has taken to trying to nurse my stomach. Sure, he tries to nurse my arm too when it comes near his mouth and he’s hungry, but there’s something so funny about trying to nurse my belly.
As he lays across my lap playing, or changing positions, he’ll dip too far and start sucking and snorting all over my belly. He smells the milk in my breasts, no doubt, and he knows the feeling is right (it’s jiggly, after all!), so he has the hardest time trying to figure out why he can’t find the nipple. I’d record it and post it if I didn’t think I’d get thrown off of social networks for fully exposing my breast(s).
And I tell you what, the kid is super fast in his search. He zooms across my belly with an intense speed. You’d think he hadn’t fed all day long. Pushing up with his arms, he flies across my belly, sometimes settling at my belly button, probably assuming my nipple went into hiding. With some difficulty I finally pry his hoover-like suction away from my stomach and guide him to whichever breast is next, and he goes to town, not missing a beat.
Babies know what they want when they want it. How amazing are they?! I love it. And even though parts of my body confuse him when he’s ravenous, I still love that I’m jiggly in places that make him comfortable. Because once he finds the breast, he molds himself to those soft areas and uses me like a pillow. It’s a comfort I’ve always wanted to experience.
How can I not find a way to love that? Jiggles and all.