The journey of a first pregnancy is often filled with excitement and novelty. While subsequent pregnancies can also be wonderful, the initial experience is marked by a series of new sensations and changes that add to the thrill. I relished my first pregnancy—until I discovered a lump the size of a kiwi in my armpit, which sent my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Was it cancer? A tumor? What was going on?
During my visit to the ultrasound technician, I scrutinized the monitor, desperately trying to interpret what she was seeing.
“What is it?” I asked, anxiety building.
“All I can see is breast tissue. I’ll send the results to your doctor,” she replied.
Relief washed over me—no tumor, just breast tissue… in my armpit. However, I was puzzled by this odd development, and my OB/GYN didn’t provide much clarity. I was informed that during pregnancy, breast tissue can swell, and it should return to normal after childbirth. This was a comforting theory, but I couldn’t help but notice that none of my other pregnant peers seemed to have a kiwi-sized lump in their armpits!
Thankfully, a friend who worked as a lactation consultant offered some insight. She suggested it might be an extra mammary gland, a suspicion that was later confirmed at the hospital after I gave birth to my son. When another lactation consultant checked in on me, I jokingly exclaimed, “I think I have a third breast.” In true consultant fashion, she lifted my hospital gown to investigate this unusual growth.
The information I received was enlightening. Apparently, milk lines extend from the armpit down through the abdomen—similar to those found in cats or dogs. It’s possible to be born with extra mammary glands or nipples along this line, and many people remain unaware of them until pregnancy causes swelling. The consultant even mentioned a woman in the hospital who had eight breasts! (I could almost hear the gasps of disbelief through the computer screen.) Suddenly, I felt fortunate to have just the one extra.
She assured me that it would recede after nursing, especially since there was no visible nipple. However, she was mistaken. When my milk came in, I noticed something alarming. While nursing, I complained to my husband about feeling overheated. Glancing down, I realized that what I thought was a small brown freckle was actually a hidden nipple, actively leaking milk onto my shirt. Yes, I was now the proud owner of a lactating third breast.
As I nursed my baby, I had to keep a towel in my armpit, while other nursing mothers simply used absorbent pads. Just to set the scene, my son was born in June—perfect tank top weather. It was quite the experience.
Following the birth of my second child, I opted to have the third breast surgically removed. Although there’s still residual tissue that swells during pregnancy, at least I no longer have to deal with a nipple. I’m content with my unique situation, but I certainly prefer not to have wet clothing every time I need to nurse.
In conclusion, embracing the quirks of motherhood, like my third breast, can provide humor and perspective on the changes our bodies undergo. You might find stretch marks like a Venetian blind or skin that resembles an elephant’s trunk, but at least you can look in the mirror and think, “Thank goodness this doesn’t lactate!”
So here’s to you, third breast, for helping others feel a little better about themselves and for providing me with a memorable story.
If you’re curious about home insemination options, check out this informative post on artificial insemination kits. Additionally, for more insights into fertility coverage in California, visit California Fertility Coverage, and for an excellent resource on pregnancy and home insemination, refer to the Cleveland Clinic.
Summary
This humorous yet enlightening account details a woman’s experience of discovering an unexpected third breast during her first pregnancy, shedding light on the realities of bodily changes during this time and embracing the quirks of motherhood.