So, Mr Chick and I are finally having a baby. We tried for a pretty long time, and we’re super chuffed about our little one’s arrival in August. What will he or she be like? What will WE be like? Will my boobs ever return to their normal size again?
Seriously though, while I am completely stoked about becoming a mama, this pregnancy thing has been a rollercoaster of epic proportions. Starting with my knockers.
I had hoped that already being chunky up top would give my boobs an excuse to take a breather. They’d quietly realise they had enough to go on with and maintain their relatively neat and tidy Double-D status quo throughout the pregnancy.
I was obviously completely delusional because four months in, my boobs are busting out all over the shop. It’s only with military precision that I manage to strap these puppies down in a bra each morning. And, after 40-odd years of being the same bra size I’m having to buy new boulder-holders almost weekly. My girls are growing so fast I bought a bra on Friday and it was TOO SMALL by Monday. That’s right. I have boobs capable of growing a cup size OVER THE WEEKEND. That can’t be normal.
Like an idiot, last week I asked Mr Chick in a slightly desperate voice if he thought they would ever stop growing. He smirked and said he sincerely hoped not. Which was not helpful.
I know mums who weren’t that well-endowed beforehand probably think I’m a whinger and I should being embracing my giant chesticles but seriously? By the time my milk comes in my mammaries will be bigger than my head. There may not be a bra out there to contain them. But what the hell – I will rock my massive boobs with a smile if it means a pudgy, happy and healthy bubba.