I had a love/hate relationship with breastfeeding.
It definitely didn’t come easily to me. You know those Earth Mama types — the ones who make homemade granola, have long beautiful hair, wear groovy harem pants, eat cheese made from nuts and have chubby babies nursing from their giant milk-producing breasts?
That so wasn’t me.
I fought for every drop of breastmilk. Every precious little swallow my babies made I worked hard for. I pumped, nursed on demand, took fenugreek (it makes your pee smell like maple syrup), drank copious amounts of mother’s milk tea and used a Supplemental Nursing System. For some strange reason, I just did not produce enough milk so I did all of this with five of my newborns. It was rough, guys. But we did it.
I was a breastfeeding mama.
To be honest, I loved it. I have many, many memories of late nights and early mornings laying chest to chest with my babies, staring into their eyes as they gripped my pinky with their tiny fingers and falling in love. Just us and the moon, quiet swallows and our steady breathing. When they got older, the breastfeeding wasn’t as serene, but it was hella comical. Inquisitive babies who like to turn their heads to all the action happening in the room usually don’t realize they have your nipple in their mouth (and their teeth but owww, that’s a whole other blog post). There was an unlimited supply of silly, milky smiles just for me. Breastfeeding gave me a chance to slow down, to rest and for this mama who had three children under the age of three twice, well…that rest was crucial to my survival. The longest I breastfed was 18 months. That’s a number that makes my heart happy.
Motherhood and the changes a woman’s body goes through has been my focus as of late. It’s both beautiful and disturbing at the same time. On one hand, you are glowing and thriving and nourishing your baby. And on the other, it feels a lot like your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. But the beauty, the fullness…it makes me run for my paint and brushes.
National Breastfeeding Month
August is National Breastfeeding Month so I wanted to share with you some of my favorite breastfeeding tips because I think I’ve learned a few thangs over the years.
Don’t be afraid to ask for help. Thankfully, breastfeeding culture has come a long way and there are more and more women breastfeeding. In the early 2000’s, I knew less than a handful of people who breastfed. I didn’t have experience seeing friends, aunts, sisters, grandmothers or my own mother breastfeed. I needed to be educated — I read a lot of books, searched online and saw a lactation consultant. Now, I see so many women wearing their babies and nursing them and it makes my heart so full. I like to think I was one of the many women who helped shape the culture to normalize breastfeeding. If you are looking for bracelet. There’s something to suit every look, from body-hugging to structured, from cuffs to chain and cuffs.
Smile when you encounter a nursing mother. I can remember being a young mama with a baby under a nursing blanket and having to deal with scowls from strangers, as if what I was doing was dirty. It was not the best feeling and it made the whole process of breastfeeding in public more stressful than it had to be. Now I always smile an encouraging smile that says, you’re doing great, mama!
If you see some tittays, don’t freak out. Omg. The stories I’ve heard from people whose asses are wound so tight they were scandalized to see a hint of a breastfeeding breast. Why is our culture so backwards that they have no problem with sexy breasts or cleavage on display but a woman nourishing her child is disgusting and perverted? Not everybody likes to cover up under a blanket. Sometimes babies get hot. Sometimes it’s hard to juggle all of the elements to keep breastfeeding discreet. Get over yourself and let a woman feed her child.
Don’t judge. Sometimes a woman chooses not to breastfeed, for various reasons. Health issues, work schedules, stress, low milk production, maybe the notion just freaks her out — whatever the reason, it is her choice. Sometimes a woman chooses to breastfeed a toddler — yes, a talking, walking non-baby human. That is her choice as well. We don’t need your opinions or observations so press pause on your thoughts.
Stay in your lane. If you see a fat baby, smile and keep it pushing. His mama probably has more milk than she can handle and the baby is reaping the benefits. If you see a “scrawny” baby, smile and keep it pushing. Maybe his appetite isn’t as large or maybe his mother is struggling with milk production, like I did. I remember when a comment about my baby’s size would cause me to break down in tears because I was trying so hard. Either way, just be quiet. Let a woman live. Let her tittays do their job in peace.
