Back where you belong

I want my boobs back.

I have been either pregnant or nursing my entire marriage--a little more than seven years. My youngest is 28 months old and she's still going strong.

My friends always told me that most babies will quit nursing on their own--lose interest, usually between nine and 16 months. My kids apparently missed that section in their handbooks. I think my oldest would still be nursing if we hadn't had to put the kibosh on it when I was pregnant with my second child.

In fact, when I was in the hospital after my son was born, he was having trouble latching on and my then 27-month-old said, "No, it's easy, Max...let me show you..." and she started going for my nipple.

So why, you ask, don't I put an end to it? Well, part of it's nostalgia--I know this is my last child and the last time I will experience the closeness you get from holding a child to your breast. Part of it, I'm ashamed to admit, is vanity: I'm afraid what my boobs are going to look like once they lose the fullness from the milk. And they don't look that great now.

I never thought I would consider plastic surgery, but my chest is a mess. If I want to wear a knit top to bed, I need to wear a bra or I get disgusted every time I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror. My boobs don't just hang, they kind of migrate toward the middle of my back. Ick. I don't want anything added--no implants, or transferring of fat from my tummy to my bust--just move the things back up to where they once were.

A friend of mine whose husband is in the military told me that Tricare--the military health care system--will pay for one cosmetic surgery for either active duty or retired military or their spouses. I asked Steve about it (he's retired Air Force), told him I deserved that surgery if there was one to be haggled over. Afterall, I'm the one who put in the time nursing all three kids. He started talking about having some scar removed or having his gynecomastia (translation: man-boob--which he doesn't even have anymore since he's lost a little weight) removed.

I quickly put that argument to rest.

One morning I was getting out of the shower and toweling off while Steve was at our double vanity shaving.

He glanced at me briefly, then resumed shaving.

"Maybe we should look into that surgery."