Cleavage

The main female character in the book I am reading, Meri, is pregnant. She is not enjoying the experience and is very apprehensive about motherhood. It is a negativity you don't usually see in a happily married and relatively successful fictional character.

I read a chapter in bed last night (which was delicious). Meri explained that she had never had the need to wear a bra and was now, in her pregnant state, having to wear a bra all the time. She said she thought having cleavage was only good for catching sweat and crumbs. I laughed when I read this as she obviously has no idea what she is in for.

Earlier this week I went to pick up the little guy from his Bumbo chair in the kitchen (where I place him for brief moments when I need to do/get something quickly). As I hoisted him into the air, he managed to produce a huge spit up which spilled directly into the front of my shirt. It quickly pooled in the cleavage of my nursing bra. Nice. I wiped it up with a paper towel and headed outside with the babe and the little guy as planned. As my husband said later that evening when I told him the story, "Hard core Mommy."

Anyway, my very dear friend wrote a great post on her blog about how you have to surrender to motherhood. I've been thinking about the idea of surrendering since reading her entry and I think it has a lot to do with just accepting that you have spit up in your bra.