"Boob sauce" is what my husband endearingly started calling my breast milk shortly after Ian, my son now almost 2, was born. Following the two week time warp of rock hard engorged breasts, and trouble with latch on (which my mother "forgot" to tell me about) I got the hang of breast feeding, began my foray into motherhood and, once again, into the world around me.
While Spike was joking with his buddies that the "hardest addiction Ian would ever have to quit was the 'boob sauce'", I was in limbo: a minute ago I was this single, working New York woman working cocktail parties and making out with martini's and men, and now I was a mom, living in Portland, Oregon; Yes, it was a move that was spearheaded by me, and the change of locale simply reinforced the (welcomed) change in everything I had known, but I wondered if this drastic change meant that the old me was completely obliterated, zapped by the sperm that had invaded my toned, pre-baby brain and body. I feared for my sexual life.
Somehow, this search for self became symbolized in my quest for the perfect nursing bra. I felt like if a stylish, sexy one existed then there was the possibility that the new and old me could coexist. The bra would be a symbol of the two worlds: motherhood and sexy womanhood. Most of the bras I found were extremes on both sides of the spectrum: dowdy practical white bullet bra type contraptions or overly sexy and non practical get ups. I must have looked at every nursing bra, and nursing top in the world (wide web), and to my dismay, nothing seemed to "fit".
Did I have to make a choice between being a dowdy matron or an oversexed slut? For God's ' sake, I wanted to be an oversexed matronó. I never did find the perfect nursing bra. Something better happened: I designed my own version - I had a friend sew it and called it "the Nursie". I learned my first valuable lesson as a mother, which is, with some thought and drive, we can all wear motherhood as we see fit. Not only did I carve out my own definition of motherhood, I created a side business and started selling nursies to specialty shops in Portland.
As far as my sex life went, things took time, I didn't want Spike even coming near my huge, leaking boobs for a while, so he laid off em and focused on other parts. (Poor man, it was like dangling a carrot in front of a rabbit). Eventually, Ian was sleeping through the night and sex was just as good if not better (I think the vaginal birth stimulated certain, nerves, shall we say). Also very important was (and still is) "date night". Going out without babies once a week is very centering for our relationship. It brings us back to the reason why we liked each other in the first place.
About the Author:
Jenny Schulder Brant is a freelance photographer and writer. She lives in Portland, Oregon and has two young children. She is also the founder of J.
