So I'm pretty sure every mum has a version of this story. You know the one, the "I pooped during labor" or "I was 8 months pregnant and laugh-peed" yeah those ones. Where your usual bodily functions are put back to a toddler form of control. In hopes I can help even one mama out there feel less embarrassed about her 'woopsie' I thought I would share mine. I call this the tale of the too small pad.

It all started on a lovely sunny winters day, Ruby was about 3 weeks old and I had been confined to the house almost that entire time. I decided it was time to break free and join society again, only this time with a little bundle of squish. I was hungry and Arie needed coffee so the natural choice was a cafe. We piled Ru and the nappy bag and the pram into the car and set off for our first outing as 3. I proudly wheeled her into the busy cafe and sat down at a corner table. We each ate about 2 mouthfuls before Ruby decided she was hungry too so the tag team - you feed her for 5 mins while I shove this panini down my gob in 3 mouthfuls then we switch. We have become pretty good at this now.

After her bottle I stood up to walk around as a burped Ru. That is when I felt it. The gush, not a trickle or a dribble or a leak - a gush, I'm talking tipping a bucket over gush. I instantly froze. FUCK. That morning I had decided the lovely "after birth bleeding" had slowed down enough for me to graduate from the surfboard/mattress maternity pad to the normal thin barely holds a teaspoon kind of pad. WHY TODAY!?! WHAT THE HELL MADE YOU THINK TODAY OF ALL DAYS SHOULD BE WHEN YOU TEST THIS OUT TASH??? I gracefully handed the baby to Arie and sat down to think about what my next move would be. FUCK! I sat down. WHY!! SERIOUSLY WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!! I'm sure the light blue jeans I was wearing would be really good at hiding any stains. This is when some friends of ours walk into the cafe and spot us from across the room (totally fine, but why now?? why you gotta play me like this universe??) We got chatting and were having a few lafs and gafs and I almost forgot about the situation going on under me. There was a lull in the conversation when Arie decided this would be a great time to point out my boobs have been leaking all over my nice grey shirt. Not subtly either, he announced "Tash ya tits are leaking". I look down and yup two wet patches the size of cheese burgers. Cool thanks for that one love.

I quickly cover myself up with a cardie. Once our friends leave and go back to their child free life (I was so bloody jealous of them at this moment) I got the courage to go and "assess" the damage in the bathroom. Of course the bathroom was on the other side of the crowded cafe. I walked through trying to hold my cardie together to cover the milk patches and down enough to cover my bum. I must have looked like I was doing that mad dash you do to your bedroom when you forget your towel after a shower. You know the one right? Sure enough the dainty little pad had been pushed to its limit and maybe only helped me out with a quarter of my problem. Stained jeans and nickers that were about to be binned. I did what I could to clean up and tied my cardie around my hips. I'm sure a Judy Bloom book taught me that trick!

Buttttttt it exposed the milk spills. So my solution was to dry them under the hand dryer. What else? I half crouched as I shoved my chest under the hot air and tried my best to get them to disappear. When... yeah you guessed it someone walked in. Cool. I pretended to be drying my hands while crouching and she threw me the biggest WTF look. Ugh whatever, couldn't she tell I was a girl in desperate times? I returned to the table with semi dry patches and I told Arie "I've had enough" and before he could finish his last swig of coffee I had piled everything into the pram and was out the door. All in all a great trip out. 0/10 would not recommend little pads 3 weeks postpartum.

Unrelated cute pic of Ruby and I to remind me she was all worth it.

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