Anyone who knows me, knows that since pretty much 7th grade, I've been well-endowed in the tata-division. I never stuffed my bra in middle school, frankly because they were already plenty big. The other girls were stuffing their bras so that they could look like me (imagine that?!?)!
As I gained weight in my twenties, so did my boobs. I went from a healthy 36-C in my early twenties to a voluptuous 38-DD in my late 20s. All the while thinking, there has GOT to be a purpose to these giant balloons on my chest! I assumed that since I had such larger breasts that I wouldn't have any problem nursing my son. I couldn't have been more wrong.
From the moment he was born, Parker had an extremely hard time "latching on" as the doctors described it. My mom said he had a weak "sucker", my husband thought be might have been a little "lazy". Granted, he was born 2 weeks earlier than his due date, so maybe he wasn't "fully baked" shall we say? Nonetheless, my kid wanted nothing to do with my breasts.
So, for three months straight, I pumped. I pumped when I woke up, I pumped at 10:00am at work, I pumped at 2:00pm at work, I pumped after work, I pumped before bedtime, and I pumped in the middle of the night. The entirety of Parker's infancy was spent hooked up to a machine that made me feel like a cow.
Sure, I was providing "natures milk" to my son. I was sacrificing my days I order to feed my son what everyone considers the abosolute BEST in nutrition for babies. I judged those other women who went straight to formula. Even though I secretly wanted to do the same. I thought about giving up time and time again, but the guilt would hit me and I would start to feel like a horrible woman.
You can see the size of my chest in this picture...
Right around the 3-month mark, something magical happened. Parker latched on. My-oh-my I have never been so happy! This meant that I could feed my baby the way nature intended! No more honking machine tugging at my swollen achy chest. Everything during that 3-4 month period was fantastic. I felt closer to my son than I ever had. But then came the question from his sitter: "Are you feeding Parker in the mornings? He screams and cries for food about 10 minutes after you drop him off!"
"Oh, no!" I thought. All this time I thought Parker and I were really doing great! It turns out, my body had started to wean itself. I was making less and less milk, which meant that Parker was getting smaller and smaller meals. No wonder he was in the 15th percentile in weight at his 4 month check up! Mother-of-the-year, right here, folks!
This gave me yet another reason to hate my boobs. They were HUGE, made my back and neck feel like they were in knots, and now, they weren't even doing the job they were made for! Enough was enough. I finally gave in to my own guilt and called a plastic surgeon.
After two appointments, measurements, the oh-so-awkward topless photo session, and several phone calls later, my doctor determined that I was a candidate for a breast reduction surgery. (I must mention that my doctor confirmed that my breasts did NOT shrink after I stopped breast-feeding. I was one of those lucky women whose breasts grew post-nursing.)
My doctor submitted my case over to the insurance company around the middle of June. He said not to get impatient as it usually takes 2-3 weeks to hear back from them. One day after work, I notice a letter in my mailbox from my insurance company. Excitedly, I rip open the letter, only to find out that my procedure had been DENIED. My heart sank and I immediately burst into tears. My sweet husband vowed to me that one day, somehow, we would find the money to pay for the surgery ourselves and told me not to worry. For the next month, I pretty much forgot about the whole thing.
Yes, my shoulders killed me. Yes, my back ached. None of my pre-pregnancy shirts fit. I was angry at my insurance company - the same company that I worked for. "How could they do this to me... I'm an employee!" I thought.
Then, the surprise of a lifetime happened. I received a voice message from my doctors office asking me to call back. My mind racing, I immediately returned the call. "What in the world could they want? They already denied me, I definitely don't have $6k available to pay for it myself."
Turns out, I picked a fantastic doctor. Unbeknownst to me, he had scheduled a peer-to-peer review of my case directly with my insurance company. He convinced them that my procedure was necessary and that I was an excellent candidate for the surgery. I was COMPLETELY IN SHOCK. All that time, thinking I was stuck with this body and these breasts I hated, and now I finally get my wish! Oh happy day!
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Cut to Friday, August 8th, 2014:
I went under the knife this day and haven't regretted a single second of it. I went from a 38DDD (yes, a triple D) to a 38B. My shirts fit better, my back doesn't hurt anymore, my neck feels brand new, and I can walk without hunching over and I can sit up straight without dying from pain. I will say, just like every woman who has had this surgery, this was the best decision (for my body) that I have ever made.
Day of surgery
Day after surgery
Parker and Mike's Baptism, 2 days post surgery.
I feel like me again. And I can't wait to see where this new body can take me!
Thanks for reading!
Xoxo,
Annie
PS: I'm still doing Weight Watchers and as of today's date (8/15/14) I'm officially down 17.4 pounds!! Kicking butt and taking names!
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