Sophie, drinking her midday smoothie.
I recently saw one of my best single girlfriends (shocker!) and of course, Sophie was in tow. Magically, she sat quietly and played with her toys while I lived vicariously through my friend’s exciting, unpredictable life. (She goes on vacation! She goes to restaurants! She gets dressed and leaves her apartment with nothing but a bag and her keys and maybe a coffee in tow! She sleeps without being fondled by hungry lips! Whose life is this?)
We chatted on her floor, curled up like primates. Midway through the conversation, I felt my breasts balloon, signaling it was time for Sophie to eat. I pulled her to my chest, mid-sentence, and popped a boob in her mouth.
If you are a breastfeeding mom, you don’t think a lot about this action. I do it in public, at home, on the phone, wherever. I’m not flashing anyone – I’m simply nourishing my child (well-covered, of course). And yet, you’d think I was stripping while shouting derogatory words due to the eye shielding and embarrassed looking away this causes by some. It’s as if they’ve been blinded by the sun.
“You’re still breastfeeding?” my friend asked. Incredulous. Almost tinged with a hint of disgust.
“Um, yeah.”
“How long will you do it?”
“Until my body doesn’t produce it or she lets me know… Who knows? Could be three years.”
“Three years? You’re not going to be one of those moms whose child can unbutton your blouse, are you?”
“Well, I don’t wear blouses. Or buttons. So we should be good.”
I’ve never been able to understand the disgust with breastfeeding or phrases that start with “one of those moms.” The people who make faces about breast milk are the same ones who have guzzled from a cow’s boob from the time they were young. Except those boobs are attached to dirty machinery, which are often infected with puss, radioactive particles or even flame retardants. Tons of bacteria. Not to mention dairy is incredibly hard to digest. But this is normal, despite the fact that we are the only species to drink another species milk.
Yet, because I give my child the food that was provided for her around the clock (no machinery or pus included) for the past nine months, I am icky.
As my friend Lauren and I took our little ones to the zoo a few days later, both carefully snuggled in their Ergos, Sophie drifting amidst the sea of monkeys and lions, we stopped to feed our babies. We happened to find a bench by the monkeys. As I fed my daughter, I watched them caring for each other, smashing what looked like poo against a window and eating it from the streaked glass. I studied their sad eyes and hunched shoulders. I wondered how happy or miserable they were, or if they might have been separated from their young.
A different kind of mother.
As we focused on a mother sitting by us, eating that green looking dung, I looked at her nipples.
“We have the same nipples,” I joked.
As if in response, she got up and moved, her ballooned, very wrinkled vagina on full display.
“She is one of my people!” I exclaimed. Why didn’t people find her offensive? Vagina and nipples hanging out, pressing against the glass, practically blinking at people. Eating poop no less! But no one was judging her. They were photographing her.
It’s a fine line to discover what is “socially” acceptable as a mother, and there’s no more touchy subject than breastfeeding. It just so happens that it’s not for everyone, and while my life would be so easy if Sophie had formula or I pumped (you mean someone else could feed her???), it’s simply not an option. This is part of my job – the part that I love the most. Her lips opening and searching wildly and then clamping down with such relief, she sighs. Her free hand slapping my chest, probing my face, or curling up next to her chin. Her heavy eye lids as she slips into a milk coma. Her signal of being done as she pushes away from me in search of other pursuits.
Will I ever regret losing sleep, not having more sex, not spending more time with my hubby, not going to movies or to as many restaurants as I want in order to take care of my (barely) still small child? Never.
I have the rest of my life to to have sex, take trips, sleep, work, take naps or do what I please. My child is just a child for only a few more months. I will only be able to cradle her on my Boppy for a little while longer, and each time I pull her to my chest, I am trying to memorize every detail: how I missed that second nail; how the back of her hair is forming a devil’s tail of wispy blond; how she has leftover smoothie dried to her nostril; how the gray of her eyes is being tinged with hazel; how her cheeks are dry; how her teeth have grown even more, changing the entire shape of her mouth and smile.
Years from now, it will be nearly impossible to conjure these memories. Will I be able to remember what breastfeeding even felt like? How she literally gives me the female version of blue balls as she gets me to the let down only to pull away like a tease? What a phenomenon it is that a full breast can be emptied in five minutes and that she can play for hours subsisting on those few ounces; how I don’t have to purchase or use machinery or water to give her what she needs – I simply make it, without doing anything at all. What a miracle.
To me, it is the only choice, and I will miss it when it’s gone.
I know I’m only nine months in, and having a child walk up to me and demand my boob might feel different in a year. Or perhaps my body will decide it’s had enough before then.
But, as I’ve learned, I’m not predicting what will happen. Or bragging. Or setting anything in stone. I’m just taking advantage of one of the only free things left in this world, which happens to be the best thing for my daughter: me.
But, like my fellow friend, the monkey, I am simply following my nature (thankfully, my nature doesn’t involve slapping poo against a glass window and eating it) because it feels right to me and to my daughter.
And that’s all that matters.
For now.
I am such a huge advocate of breastfeeding, and it is so sad that something so natural is taboo now. It was the hardest thing I have ever done, yet the biggest accomplishment. Cherish it as long as you can, you will miss it. My little boy still sleeps with us, and I love every minute of it. I know there will be a day he doesn’t want anything to do with us.
Amber, I hate that it has become somewhat taboo as well. That will never make sense to me! Have you seen the documentary Babies?? It’s the most natural thing in the world, and yet in this country, we have become so sterile with everything. Our little girl sleeps with us too (at this point, I’m thinking it might be forever), and I will miss it madly when she doesn’t. How old is your little boy? Thanks for reading!
I have not, I will look into it. I think breastfeeding is great, I wish my milk would have lasted more than 6 months. Our little one is 18 monthes old, I really think some kids are just not independent sleepers.
I totally agree. Sophie just won’t sleep alone for more than a few hours. I know she’ll be independent someday (right? right!!!), so I am enjoying it while I can. I get freaked sometimes that my supply is going to run out… it’s so hard to tell how much they’re getting, and because Sophie isn’t a big, chunky baby, I worry a bit (but she’s super tall). I’m just going to enjoy it while it lasts.
How was the transition to formula?
Okay, I died laughing when I saw the picture of that monkey. I felt like I looked like that after my baby. Oh the memories. You are doing the exact right thing. I think it’s hard for people to get it unless they’ve been there. I will never understand why it’s weird to breastfeed – you said it right about the cow thing. THAT is unatural – not feeding your baby from your body!
Ha – glad you can relate, Sarah! I marvel at these moms who can pop out 4 babies and look amazing. It takes such a toll!!! I agree with you on all fronts!
Nine months is a lifetime for breastfeeding. No one knows the type of dedication it takes or how amazing and hard it is. Brava. You have done a great job. And your sense of humor doesn’t hurtr either!
Thanks, Tracey! I think I have developed a better sense of humor since she has arrived. If I couldn’t laugh, I would be comatose.
Thanks for the support!
As always, love. Breastfeeding is the best thing ever – I hate that I never got to experience it. I feel like I can a little when reading this especially about your daughter. Thanks for sharing.
I’m sorry you didn’t get to experience it. I take for granted that it all worked out, but I know how tough it can be, and sometimes, our bodies just don’t do what we want. Thank God there are so many ways to bond with a baby though, right? Thanks for reading.
You do have the rest of your life to do what you want. And you will never regret caring for a child. It’s amazing.
Exactly, Brittany. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.
I breastfed for three years and everyone thought I was crazy. It’s what felt right to me. Even open-minded people I know cringe. What is the difference between pouring a glass of milk and giving it to them from my body??? Don’t ever let anyone dissuade you (not that you would listen). Do what feels right for your body and your baby.
That’s AMAZING. I can only hope to make it that long. You’re absolutely right – it’s about her needs and no one else’s. Thanks for sharing!
I marvel at women who can stay so committed to this. Men have no idea. Truly.
Thanks, David. It’s hard to quantify or explain, but yes… men have no idea.
this is great! makes me sad that my body didnt do as it was suppose to
bravo!
Thanks, Amanda. I’m sorry to hear that – I really wonder what determines a mother’s milk supply? I feel like I don’t have an abundance but so far, so good. Other people have TONS (I can’t seem to get any when I pump) and others don’t… it’s all very fascinating. I’m sure your little one is just as healthy as can be!
How wonderful that you have opened your friend’s eyes. I have been trying to calm my irritated knee-jerk reaction to those who judge that I am “still nursing” because I know that it’s only because they have lived a life where that wasn’t the norm. Hey, I laughed hysterically when I was pregnant and someone told me about elimination communication. It was just so crazy to me because I had never heard of it and no one I had ever known had gone that route. Obviously, I think it’s a wonderful thing now! A good friend of mine once said she thought kids were “too old to be breastfeeding” if they could “ask for it or open your shirt.” Well, Eli is 16 months now (gasp!) and does just that in front of her all the time. But now that she has been around it for so many months and so close to the situation, she is not only accepting of it but can’t imagine it any other way. Keep it up, mama! You’re doing a wonderful thing!
It’s so sad to me how women are maligned for breastfeeding in public. When my youngest was still on the boob, I got looks ALL THE TIME about feeding her at restaurants, at the park, wherever, and I still don’t understand it. Babies need to eat. That’s how they eat. I’m not flashing anyone. It’s done.
We’ve somehow become so over-sexualized as a culture that the sight of a breast is titillating, and it shouldn’t be. Of course, in deference to others, it’s polite to be discrete about your feeding activity, but in the end, the baby comes first, audience be damned.