Downsizing: Freya's breast reduction journey

I decided I couldn’t handle lugging my boobs around anymore.

I welcomed my first daughter in 2017 and with an impressive HH cup, I managed to breastfeed her for two years. Trying to feed a newborn when your boobs are about three times the baby’s size is quite a challenge. The acrobatics of working out the best breastfeeding position that wouldn’t suffocate my tiny baby was a game of trial and error and I spent many of those early days in tears at the discomfort and perceived embarrassment of my body.

At the end of 2019, I decided I couldn’t handle lugging my boobs around anymore. I had always wanted a breast reduction, but after finishing breastfeeding my two-year-old, I suddenly felt an urgency (and the angry protest from my neck and back had become a daily occurrence).

Despite knowing we wanted another baby, it didn’t seem like that was on the cards for the next few years and instead of living in discomfort while I awaited the timing to be right for our next baby, I jumped headfirst into researching Melbourne surgeons.

Breastfeeding was my only concern when considering surgery. Despite all the challenges of feeding a baby with big boobs, I had enjoyed the journey with my daughter and wanted the option to try and breastfeed my next baby. I knew the risks of breast reduction however and despite my desire to breastfeed again, I decided the benefits of a reduction outweighed the risk of not being able to.

After doing extensive research, I found a surgeon I was happy with and booked a consult. He was friendly and supportive, and I felt confident in his skills as one of Australia’s (and the world’s) top plastic surgeons. The only problem was the cost. After two years of child rearing, I hadn’t managed to save any money, but I knew this couldn’t wait till I could save the full amount (in this economy that would’ve taken me a good 10 years!). My partner was fully supportive after seeing me struggle for so many years and we decided to get a loan (affectionally known as ‘the boob loan’ – which, 4 years later, we’re still paying off!).  

I booked my surgery for three months later and started the countdown with excitement! What I could never have predicted was a global pandemic and the cancellation of all elective surgery by the state government. My surgery was cancelled. I was devastated. I knew that my problems were small (as small as a HH cup ha!) in comparison to what was happening in the world, but I was crushed.

Luckily for me, the first lockdown ended fairly quickly, and my surgery was booked for just a few months after my initial date. I tempered my excitement as everything felt fragile and I didn’t want to get my hopes up again. But the night before my surgery, I allowed my excitement to bubble to the surface.

On the morning of my surgery, I gave my daughter a big hug and a kiss and told her I would see her in a few days. This was the first time away from her and it felt strange and as much as I would miss her cuddles, I was happy to have a break (when you’re a mum, even a hospital stay is a break!).

Mum had come to stay with us to take me to the hospital and help with my daughter while I was in recovery. We arrived at the hospital as the sun was rising and were welcomed into such a warm environment. The staff were so kind and friendly, and I felt very safe in their hands.

I was whisked away to get prepped while mum went to find coffee.

The wait pre-op, me in my hospital gown and hairnet, was agonizingly slow. They’d taken my phone, so the wait was a practice in meditation. I focused on all the cute outfits I would be trying on as soon as I was healed! Finally, my surgeon arrived to draw on my boobs and give me a pep talk. He was so relaxed and jovial, my nerves all but evaporated. There was a lovely sketch on his wall of a woman, her perfect breasts uncovered. I told him I wanted mine to look just like hers and he said, ‘That’s the goal!’

I was wheeled into the bustling theatre and was greeted by jovial nurses who did their utmost to distract me. It worked and I calmly joined in on their chatter. The next thing I remember is waking up in recovery. The gap of memory a feeling I will never get used to but one I secretly enjoy from the handful of surgeries I’ve had. The hard work was done, and I felt elated. My new scars were covered in a puffy bandage, and I sleepily marvelled at the small perkiness of my boobs.

I was wheeled to my room as I dozed on and off, relishing the rest, even if the sleepiness was because of the drugs. Mum was waiting for me in the room, which overlooked the city.

I insisted she take a photo of my new boobs immediately as I could hardly believe it. In my drug induced euphoria, I wanted to share a photo with all my friends. We had a fun afternoon hanging out and chatting without a distracting toddler to chase after. My surgeon arrived in the evening to tell me everything went well; I was too tired to take in much detail, but the success was all I needed to hear.

After three nights in hospital, I was ready to head home. The next few weeks of recovery was slow as I juggled parenting and another lockdown. My daughter was fascinated by my bandages and referred to my boobs as ‘robot boobs’, but she respected my need for gentleness and although we had a few wild moments (you can’t fully reign in a toddler), overall, we managed ok.  

I had a little setback when some stitching from my left nipple pulled away, leaving a small wound. Subsequently, I remained on antibiotics for six weeks at the request of the nurse who wanted to make sure I didn’t get an infection. In hindsight, I wish I’d requested to stop as I think this was overkill and my guts were compromised by the overuse (sore tummy girlies know what I’m talking about).

It’s coming up to four years later and my breast reduction is still one of the best decisions I’ve made for myself. I have ended my relationship with underwire (although, I’m sure I’m comprising the longevity of perkiness I was granted through the breast lift that comes with the reduction), I can mostly wear whatever I like, and my back and neck have been saved.

I have since had another daughter and unfortunately, breastfeeding hasn’t panned out for us this time. I managed to make a little bit of colostrum and then milk, but nowhere near enough and after trying to increase my supply for 5 weeks, I accepted a different journey with this baby. As fate would have it, we have been blessed with a bountiful community of lactating mamas who have generously donated their milk and so, although my daughter isn’t breastfed, she is fully breastmilk fed. She has enjoyed the benefits of milk from 20 women, and we’ve now built relationships with three beautiful regular donors who are supplying all she needs.

While I didn’t get the benefit of RAQ growing up, Sophia was a big part of my journey when she birthed RAQ at the same time I birthed my first kid. I spent my breastfeeding years enjoying RAQ bikinis which allowed me access to swimwear that actually fit, swimwear that I could breastfeed in and a community that made me feel confident in my body.

After having my second (and final!) baby, I can’t wait to get refitted and enjoy RAQ next summer. What a game changer for women of all ages to have a bikini that not only fits, but looks amazing.

By Freya Bennett

Instagram: @freya___bennett

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