In those first few months of motherhood, I could usually be found walking around in a bra that allowed me to extract my boobs at a moment’s notice. It would only be a matter of time until they needed to be hooked up to a machine again while I awkwardly walked around trying to do things with two bottles hanging from my chest. My breasts felt distant from my body, more like a device permanently attached to me. In this phase of life they were not fully my own; they existed solely to feed my ba...
