Today's topic is the state of my wife's breasts. That is to say, they're gorgeous. Always have been, but hey, we're in the nursing stage here--and I know all the dads out there are nodding their heads, remembering their wives' tits blossoming during pregnancy, and then nearly exploding during nursing. And, naturally, it's the one time we really can't touch--they're always sore or tender or whatever, and any self-respecting boob man is left to wonder, is this kid gonna leave anything for me?
Most women have heard the horror stories of boobs going flat and lifeless after breast-feeding ended, and Sarah's certainly aware that there's no way hers are going to remain their current size. Not that size is important, it's not...but it's hard to watch the beating they're taking and not fret.
Really, though, the dad's view of breast-feeding is a joyous one. Here are the two most central people in your life at the moment, establishing a bond that is at once poetic and mundane and gorgeous and sweet and shared by creatures the world over. I can't imagine watching anything that would fill my heart more fully. Even if my boob-loving habits may take a hit.