I crumple to the dirty floor in the change room at Target, jealous of her hope and every inch of her voluptuous breasts. Her bosom is actually all that I can see as I ashamedly clutch my maternity bras whilst anxiously waiting for the attendant to manually open the door to the fitting room.
She is buying her maternity goods for her expectant baby. New Beginnings. Conversely, I am buying my size sixteen E bra for the end of our breastfeeding relationship. So that my engorged breasts have somewhere clean to rest while soaking in the cold compresses of the cabbage leaves that I gingerly place in my current, and only, size twenty crop. I had purchased this crop with my sister before my wedding with Mr. A last year when I was only six weeks pregnant.
Even in the first trimester my whole being of motherhood was centered on the freedom of breastfeeding.
It seems stupid, now whilst I play with my healthy and happy Master X , to think that such an instance could have upset me enough to have me cry in a public place.
I quickly collect myself and try on the bra. I had asked the attendant for help moments earlier as they did not seem to have in stock the size for which I measured. She unknowingly suggested the maternity bras. I whispered in reply that I was trying to stop breastfeeding and would prefer a regular bra.
I whispered in reply that I was trying to stop breastfeeding and would prefer a regular bra.
As mentioned in earlier posts, it is weird the occasions that etch in my memory. I guess that purchasing bras is a significant occasion for women, as they can support our changing bodies throughout our lives. We might buy many bras; we might buy no bras. However I think that in this moment was perhaps the realisation that once again my body is changing. However this time, I feel that it is not my choice, and that I long for the new beginnings like her, rather than the rehashed ending.
I mention new beginnings a few times in this post because that is the brand on the package of breast pads that I had to buy from Woolworths yesterday, to soak up my milk during the night.
New Beginnings. Old Endings.
On further reflection, the brand did not really make much sense. Mr. A inputs Starting New Beginnings = Finishing Old Endings? My sister, the sound of reason, thoughtful love interjects when I raise the irony of the branding with her at a later time, that this could mean new beginnings for Master X, Mr. A and myself also.
She wisely suggests that it just depends on how you look at it.
any all grammatical and spelling errors and words missed as I only recently had my medication.
If you or someone you know is experiencing thoughts of suicide please contact Lifeline immediately 13 11 14