Backstory

I vividly remember the day I snapped.  It was summer, a few months after my second baby was born.  I hate summer and I hate heat.  My experience has been that breastfeeding makes both problems worse.  I was up to an "I" cup at this point which left me only a few options for nursing bras, all uncomfortable and scratchy, and none of which looked very flattering under summer clothes.  I wanted to take my baby and 2-year-old to the park, so I was attempting to find something to wear that would be suitable for public viewing.  I don't know how to explain this to those of you who haven't experienced this and I know I don't have to explain for those of you who have.  Needless to say, the combination of postpartum hormones, the heat, leaking milk, baby crying, itchy bras, the heat, and trying to find clothes that fit sent me over the edge.  We never did make it to the park, but I did make the decision that set me on the path toward breast reduction.  Something had to give.

I spent a lot of time looking for information online.  Chances are if it can be Googled, I read it.  The main thing that concerned me was the possibility that I wouldn't be able to breastfeed after the surgery, so I came to the conclusion that I had to wait until I was sure that I was done procreating.  In the meantime, I started to make sure that my problems were documented every chance I got.  I mentioned how my large breasts negatively affected me at every OB/GYN appointment.  I talked about the possibility of breast reduction with my family doctor and my chiropractor.  All of them agreed that they would help me if I needed more paperwork to convince my insurance company.  In the end, I didn't need their help (or a referral), but there was no way I could have known that at the time.  If I had ended up with a different insurance company, I may have needed it.  All the talking did, however, boost my confidence and made me feel that I really did have a problem that could be solved.  I didn't necessarily have to continue to suffer the rest of my life.  I still had my doubts, but it always helps to have a professional agree with me.

I had my mind *mostly* made up that I would eventually go through surgery, but I was also still apprehensive.  Making such a large change is overwhelming.  I liked how I looked (packed into a really supportive bra) but I hated how I felt.  In a society that apparently puts high value on large breasts, it almost feels "wrong" to wish to be smaller.  Many of my small-breasted friends would make comments about how they wished they had larger breasts.  I would tell them to be happy with the way they are or I'd whomp 'em over the head with one of mine.  All joking aside, I know it's in our nature to want what we don't have.  Women with straight hair get perms, and those with curly hair use straightening irons.  Silly humans, we all are!  Still, I have lived with the "glory" of large breasts long enough to know they just aren't worth the pain.  They make breastfeeding more difficult, they are heavy, my back hurts, bras are uncomfortable and hard to find, exercising and playing with my kids is more difficult, they are hot and bulky in summer, and it's difficult to find clothes that fit and cover.

Over the next five years since that fateful summer day, I ended up having two more children.  My weight went up and down, but my bra size stayed about the same, just a cup or two larger when breastfeeding.  When I was pregnant with my fourth baby, I KNEW that he was my last.   I started looking for a plastic surgeon.  I read through my insurance information carefully.  I was limited to a few "preferred providers" that my insurance would cover.   I started making calls and asking questions.  I looked up the clinics and doctors online.  It seemed the concensus was that breastfeeding moms should wait a year after weening before having surgery, so that gave me a timeline to work with.  The next step was to make an appointment for a consultation.