There’s no wrong time to talk about boobs

October 9th, 2009

Yesterday, I ran into Alice, one of the nurses at my doctor’s office who had been particularly supportive throughout my early days as a mom, when breastfeeding was going so terribly awry.

I wasn’t at the doc’s — I was just outside in the street near my office. Alice took one look at me and exclaimed (at top volume) “Kate! Oh my GOD! How is your breast?!?”

Unsurprisingly, we got a few startled looks from passersby.

Alice went on to pepper me with questions about how I had healed — was there a scar? (Oh heck yes). Was my boob concave? (Yup!) How’s the baby? (Fabulous!) Will I try to breastfeed with the next one? (Yea, but I plan to give up sooner if it doesn’t go well.)

Apparently, I’m a bit of a legend in the halls of the practice. Whenever a new mom is struggling with breastfeeding, they think of me and regale each other (though not the mom, thankfully) with tales of my boob woes. Somehow that actually made me feel good. It was affirming, and made me feel like a veteran of a major parenting battle.

“Ha! That’s right. I survived raging mastitis, hospitalization, and boob surgery and lived to joke about it.”

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