I was never one of those teenagers who willed you to grow. Or willed you to shrink. You were always proportionate to both body and age.

Fast forward to my twenties and you served me well. I could pull off a low cut top without a bra or concern. You were often the recipients of favour and fondle by my patron of choice. While I welcomed it, I’ll admit you were never one of my top 3 erogenous zones - and when you changed due to childbirth, you were no longer one of my top 3 favourite body parts.

The first giveaway that I might be pregnant was that you were swollen and sore. I woke up one morning, rolled over on my stomach and was met with a comforting ache.

When Effie was born, for the first time our relationship was functional. I needed us - correction - Effie needed us to work together to provide nourishment. I squished you and I squeezed you, massaged you and pinched you - all in an effort to get the “liquid gold” faucet flowing with measurable pressure. It never really happened. There was sputter and dribble and after a commendable 4 months of breastfeeding we agreed to disagree.

And now I - we - have cancer cells in our milk ducts. The very location I prayed would become full and plentiful all those years ago. Was it something I said? Should I have played favourites? Senseless queries of course and I don’t expect a response but why not carry on the personification of YOU?

I’ll miss how you feel when I feel you, or how I feel when someone else feels you…whether in pleasure or in pain (here enters memories of a hungry infant). Whether sucking or sucking, tugging or yanking - i’ll reflect on ALL the feels long after I have no feeling left.

Some perky young things will soon take your place, but i’ll never forget the years we spent growing up together and growing old together.

Written By Elizabeth Phipps