For all of my adult life up until June, my breasts have had a single meaning and function and it wasn’t to suckle a baby. It’s taken some getting used to: having a vulnerable, hungry creature rely on them for sustenance. Eventually I’ve gotten comfortable with the suck-suck-suck-pause of baby’s rhythmic and eager eating.
Okay, now picture this: you’re lying on your side with a small boy baby snuggled alongside you, greedy as ever to relieve you of your milk reserves. He’s vacuuming it down for a good 20 minutes, and then you switch sides. Eventually, he is sated and the pull of suction is replaced by…something else.
You look down upon the face of your sweet child to find him looking up at you with an open-mouth smile. And that new sensation is your innocent boy baby slowly licking your nipple.
It’s funny. But creepy.