Unhooked

Between pregnancy and my son's long-term commitment to breastfeeding, "the girls" had done hard time, serving a 28-month sentence, through thrush, mastitis and the indignities of flap-fronted nursing bras, with no time off for good behavior. Around August, at long last, freedom! To celebrate, last month we went on a new-bra shopping spree.

Nothing could have prepared me for the odyssey. Several hours into it, after I'd tried on every size combination in the first four letters of the alphabet, even the Wonder Bra wasn't so wonderful. Just as I was about to leave, saggy and empty-handed, a helpful sales associate took over. Within minutes, we found the perfect fit. HOORAY! The motherhood-ravaged remains of my former chest were hoisted high and I felt three inches taller. Talk about a mood elevator!

So now I'm left with a question: What to do with the nursing bras? Sure, I'm sick of the sight of them and no longer need their help. They're a little too used for the consignment store, but they still have some play in them. Do I throw them in with the rest of the maternity clothes waiting to recirculate, should my sisters or I go for "one more?" Yes, their "ick factor" is high, as I acknowledged in our pregnancy blog. But an emotional bond has formed.

I can't just throw them away.