When I got top surgery, I thought I had closed the chapter on my chest forever. Two years later, when I became pregnant, I truly believed it wouldn’t be an issue. I had been told that top surgery meant I wouldn’t be able to breastfeed — and I was completely okay with that. No attachment. No expectations. Just relief in finally feeling at home in my body.
What I Believed vs. What Actually Happened
I believed my chest wouldn’t change during pregnancy. I was wrong. As my pregnancy progressed, I started noticing swelling in my chest. It wasn’t much but the way it made my chest look rounder made me feel dysphoric.
At first, I brushed it off. Pregnancy changes everything, right? But then things escalated in a way I never saw coming.
The Part No One Warned Me About
After giving birth, my chest began producing milk. Because I had top surgery, there was nowhere for it to go. The pressure built quickly. My chest became painfully swollen — hard, heavy, and unrelenting. It felt like my chest was a balloon filled with cement.
It was shocking and overwhelming. And it was easily the most painful part of my postpartum recovery.
The Moment I Questioned Everything
In the middle of that pain, I had a fleeting thought: Should I have waited to get top surgery?
Even during that burning, unexpected pain, I knew the truth. Top surgery gave me peace, confidence, and freedom from dysphoria that I can’t put into words. I love my flat chest. I love how I feel in my body. And I would make the same decision again without hesitation.
What Helped During My Second Postpartum Experience
By the time I went through postpartum recovery a second time, I had more information—and a lot more awareness of my body. The chest pain and swelling I experienced after my first pregnancy had caught me completely off guard. I didn’t want to relive that level of pain again if I could help it.
This time, under the recommendation of my OBGYN, I used binding and icing as a way to help my body stop milk production more quickly. The goal wasn’t compression for appearance—it was support and relief. Gentle binding helped limit movement and pressure, while icing reduced inflammation and eased the intense swelling I had experienced before.
The difference was noticeable.
The pain was significantly less severe, and the swelling didn’t linger the way it had during my first postpartum recovery. Most importantly, the discomfort resolved much faster. I still experienced chest changes, but they felt more manageable and far less overwhelming than the first time around.
I want to be clear: this wasn’t something I figured out on my own. I followed my OBGYN’s guidance and made decisions based on what felt safest for my body and my circumstances. Every trans man’s body responds differently to pregnancy and postpartum changes, especially after top surgery.
Sharing this isn’t about telling anyone what they should do—it’s about expanding the conversation. These are the details that often get left out of trans pregnancy stories, and they matter. Having information, options, and medical support made a real difference for me, and I wish I’d known sooner that relief was possible. Always talk to your doctor first.
Why I’m Sharing This
Trans bodies are complex. Pregnancy doesn’t look one way. And these stories deserve to be told.
👇 Comment your questions about my pregnancies below and follow for more honest trans parenthood stories.
If you want to know more about my experiences with pregnancy and being a father as a trans man check out more of my blog post here!
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