Yes, this is a post about boobs. Not that kind of post so if some idle search lead you here for that reason – there’s nothing to see here, look away.

As this is my parenting journey, and I have just weaned Bubba fully this week, the subject of my boobs was going to come up at some point. And that point is today. Why today? Because last night I woke up every 90 minutes or so. Was Bubba awake? No. Were Bella and Bear awake? No. But my boobs were. More specifically my right boob. Aching. Hurties. Ouch. Don’t lay on your tummy because it will put pressure on me and I’ll wake you up kind of sore. Thanks boob.

It took me back 15 months to when Bubba and I would both be awake, and my boobs would be sore for a reason. Because Bubba needed feeding. But now they’re just waking me up as a reminder that I am never going to feed a bubba with them again.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m eternally grateful that they worked so perfectly at the job for as long as they did. Bubba latched on when we were in recovery in the hospital – and save for one horror night which we’ll blame on the midwife not us – feeding her has worked perfectly the whole time, for both of us.

But I had so hoped to do it more than once in my life. And now that part of my life is over. For good.

I read about weaning, I’m doing all the things I can to hopefully not end up with mastitis. I think I’m a smart girl, but I was so unprepared for the onslaught that ending our feeding has brought me: both physical and emotional. Hormones, huh? Ain’t they a dream?!

All of the pain seems to be concentrated in the one area. My heart hurts, and it’s located right behind my boobs, so maybe I’ll just need to ignore anything between my under arms and belly button for a little while.

I suppose there’s one good thing. Although my boobs may have shrunk back to pre-Bubba size (small!), I do have a load of pretty bras I’ll be able to fit into once again.

(Photo credit to our dear friend and wonderful photographer, Israel Smith)