Lately Cameron has been wanting to grab my nipple while nursing. Not the other nipple, like I read being common, but the same nipple. This is a problem for a couple reasons, besides the logistics involved. For one, there’s his razor sharp claws… er… fingernails.
He’s also doing the pulling-off-without-unlatching thing again. Or not necessarily off but just straight up pulling. Hard. Hard enough to make me yell out in pain at one point, which made him laugh. (I know he doesn’t understand, but I do with my baby didn’t laugh at the fact that he caused me pain.) I remember this one because I set him on the floor afterwards, deciding it was time to start enforcing the ‘if you hurt mommy we stop for a bit’ rule in preparation for future biting.
It was some combination of those that I assume is responsible for the raw spot on my nipple I noticed while preparing to shower. I should put some lanolin on that, I thought, it might not help but it certainly won’t hurt.
Examining my nipple was what led me to notice the network of blue veins clearly visible on my boobs. (I know, that’s a pleasant visual for you, isn’t it?) But it’s not just my boobs, but all the way up the top of my chest, and across to my shoulders, making me look like a walking circulatory model. I wondered if there’s anything that could be done about that. Tanning, I guess, so no. Apparently I’m pale enough to be functionally transparent.
While marveling at my personal freak show I waited for a couple red scratch marks on the right side to die down so I could survey fully. These are the kind of marks left from scratching yourself so absentmindedly that it’s plausible to not remember if you had actually done so or not a mere second ago. I tried to remember, because they didn’t die down, and along with examining the surrounding skin I realized… are those stretch marks!?
Fledgling, baby stretch marks. I forgot they start out red. I think my prednisone stretch marks started out looking-like-I’ve-been-ripped-apart silver/white. I’ve finally gotten over my prednisone marks, and I know a wrinkly, stomach is a motherhood badge of honor, but somehow I thought my boobs would be spared. Especially seven months out. My one (previously) perfect body part.
My fan club will be disappointed, I thought. Yes my breasts once had a fan club, many years ago but I’ve assumed it still exists, if dormant. With Cameron’s existence, I’ve joked that it has a new member. So he’s the reason I’m letting them be “ruined”, I remember. That’s supposed to make it okay, but I still don’t like it.