An open letter

An Open letter

My cousin sent me an email of items her friend recommended for me along with this letter. This letter was written by a nurse practitioner to her patient. It’s mostly about being seen, valued, and honored as a patient. But here’s an expert that is still singing through my body:

Today is the day you will have to say goodbye to a part of your body, a part of yourself. Your breast has felt the warmth of a lover's caress, has fed your child with life-sustaining milk and connection. You have many memories stored in your breast, stories none of us today know about. Somehow I wish I knew them.

I had already been thinking so much about my connection to my breast. This letter put words to what I was feeling. “The memories stored in your breast.”

Unfortunately, my earlier memories of my breast are filled with embarrassment and shame. It was in 4th grade when people first started to comment about my boobs, it was in 6th grade when kids would repeatedly ask me for a tissue and then laugh. It was then when I wanted to be small and hide my body. I did not like the attention. I did not like the comments. I did not like the stares. I think that is why I became a lover of hoodies, (besides them being extremely comfortable) it was a way for me to hide my body.

The memories I hold in my breast changed when I met Antonio and later had Javi. My breast were no longer a place of shame or embarrassment, but a beautiful part of me that gave life and purpose. Antonio has always made me feel so loved and comfortable in my own body and I am ever so grateful for that. He encourages me to show my curves and be proud of who I am! He even told me last week, my body might be changing, but the essence of who I am is not, and that is what he fell in love with.

This letter was the first place I’ve seen where it mentioned the breast as a connection between mother and child. It felt so validating to read that as I was grieving that connection the most, but a grief no one ever talks about (or that I have seen so far).

I learned early on that my nipples will not be saved during this surgery. I quickly had a flashback to nursing Javi. I mourned this loss as this was Javi’s life source, it was our connection. There is definitely grief in loosing this part of me and I know Javi is grieving this as well. It’s showing up in his interactions with me. He is nestling himself up in between my chest more, he’s fake nursing, and pretending like he’s a baby. At first, I told him to stop (because it is not socially acceptable to be doing these actions at his age), but then I realized, I was telling his grief that it was not welcome and that is not okay. So now when he goes into nurse, I hold him like a baby, and let him suck my finger, giving him space to mourn his connection, a connection that gave him life and comfort. He deserves to grieve as much as me and deserves to do it in a way that makes sense to him.

To the memories that I hold in my breast: embarrassment, shame, humor, acceptance, love, connection, beauty, life, and purpose.

The message that will remain in my heart: love all, accept all, celebrate all.

And tonight, I shall privately write a good bye letter to my ladies - going through memories and adventures together, what we have learned, and what we would do differently, and what we have to look forward to.

Ta-ta for now!