I wrote that title in the voice of Mills Lane, not Marvin Gaye.  I decided to make that the title of my post tonight with one of our daughters in mind; “Yaya”.  Today she decided to really put my noobs to the surgical quality test today.

Pre-surgery, Yaya had a habit of shoving her hand down my shirt if she was upset, scared, mad, bored, or awake.  She would pinch my boobs or give them a whack with the side of her hand when she was at a loss for something else to do.  After my surgery, our girls couldn’t even give me a normal hug.  I resorted to asking them to wrap their sweet little arms around my legs instead of the traditional embrace.  It was difficult for all of us.  We’re big, juicy huggers.  It was sweet relief when we were back to bear hugging it out.  It seemed that today Yaya realized that my noobs were no longer being given the eggshell treatment.  It started this morning when we were getting dressed for tumbling.  She didn’t want to get off of the changing table, so I picked her up, and she in turn went to pinch me and grabbed two-tiny-pinchers worth of noob.  When I didn’t immediately cry out in pain (like I did during early recovery when a drain was pulled, a noob bumped, or I was just awake), the realization struck her:  Mommy is no longer made of glass.

I scolded her and firmly said, “No pinching!”  But she’d already decided to move on to grabbing.  I picked her up again to head out of the nursery a few minutes later, and she put her hand down my shirt and squeezed my left noob.  No pain; just a weird moment because it didn’t hurt.  It didn’t feel like anything.  In the tissue closer to my chest wall, I can feel pressure.  But at the fattier parts of my noob, nothing.  I don’t have any sensation.  So for the rest of the day, it was like she was the quality control tester at the Reconstructed Breast Factory.  She poked, prodded, pushed, squeezed, smacked and, for the grand finale, head butted my noobs.  And you know what?  They’re still here, in tact and show no sign of falling off.

To get a little Marvin Gaye on everyone for a moment, they haven’t been put to the husband test yet.  I’m still a little timid about touching them myself.  Dr. Louie told me at my last appointment I could start gentle massages to break up the scar tissue in them.  But the amount of pressure I apply is maybe a third of the pressure Dr. Louie used when he was showing me how to do this. I also wonder if there’s much of a point to having them touched since I don’t have any sensation.  I know it makes perfect sense for Mike, the poor guy, but I mean for me.  I do feel the need to give him the green light, though, since my nipple reconstruction is not very far away.  When that time comes, it’s back to no man’s land during recovery.  What can I say?  I feel like a peach, but in all reality am probably closer to an apple.

In late breaking news, tomorrow has the potential for being either a monumental or disastrous day.  I’m going to try to workout with Paul again!  I have to do it.  I had so much rich, delicious food prepared and delivered to our house when I was recovering.  And then when I got the green light to get back on chocolate I did my best to make up for that 6 week gap without it.  Now with a good portion of the fat being nipped off of my belly (and made into noobs), everything I eat is sitting high on my hips.  And I WANT to work out.  I’ve missed it.  I made such big strides in my physical fitness leading up to my surgery, and it’s going to be a long road back.  So, now is the time.  Well, tomorrow is the time for that.  Right now is the time for music, and then sleep.

I’ll post pictures tomorrow!