Before anyone, there was Mom. She breastfed me for three years. She didn’t have a book or someone guiding her. She felt motivated to breastfeed despite not having any outside information or mentors. She just felt it was right. I used to be embarrassed when she told anyone how long I asked for “night night”, but now I think, “Wow, what a gift.”
There was Kristen, a college professor whose children won my heart. I watched her baby girl for several weeks one summer while she worked on writing a book. I watched my professor nurse, and I learned to heat up breast milk in a bowl of hot water. I remember thinking, “Wow, I’m handling these fluids that came out of her body. Kinda weird, kinda cool.”
There were the women with whom I taught who traveled to work every day with a breast pump. Anna, Laura, Nicole, Taylor. Surely others. Sometimes even a breast pump strapped on the back of a bike. They found a little private pumping space in a school full of hallway noises, elementary germs, and doors with windows. Then they found a way to store their freshly pumped milk, which I never saw.
I also noticed for the first time that “Hmm…being a breastfeeding mom can help you get a little time away from the craziness of the day and a reason to sit in a quiet room. My introverted self may like this. It’s like a smoke break but so much healthier.”
There was my Bradley childbirth teacher, Grace, who gave us homework to watch an important TED Talk on the health benefits of breastfeeding for mothers, containing information that could save thousands of women’s lives from heart disease each year. Grace also told us about her own extended nursing relationship and invited her neighbor and lactation counselor to give us a presentation on breastfeeding.
There were the leaders at the La Leche League meeting, who showed up on a weeknight to shepherd new mothers and experienced mothers through the breastfeeding journey. Tandem nursing, weaning, flanges, mastitis, thrush, clogged ducts, nursing bras, nursing aversions, tongue ties, pumping, building milk supply, managing oversupply… They pass on a lexicon and a body of knowledge to a whole village of mothers, who then can pass it on to other mothers.
There were the women on the La Leche League Facebook page who asked the questions, who answered the questions at 3 a.m., who posted nursing milestones and photos, who celebrated each other and encouraged each other through the physically and emotionally painful nursing moments. They were ready with videos, articles, shared stories, heart emoticons and virtual hugs. Most of all, we knew that we were not alone. We knew that all across our city and state, other mamas were up at all hours with a fresh little baby suctioned to their body.
There was Lea, my neighbor and mother of three children, who came over after I called her on a whim of desperation when Guider was four days old. We had taken Guider back to the hospital for his first check-up, and they told us he had lost too much weight and that I would need to pump after every feeding session to help bring in the milk. I had been working so hard around the clock to make nursing work, and I felt utterly defeated. That afternoon I couldn’t get my breast pump to work, and I was desperate.
When Lea came over, I thought I was going to just get a breast pump troubleshooting session, but I also got a very hands-on demonstration on how to get my baby to latch. I’ll admit–when we had been at our neighborhood potluck squeezing hamburgers into our mouths, I never thought that a few months later she’d be squeezing my breast into my baby’s mouth.
She brought humor and “peace, patience, persistence”. She brought Mother’s Milk tea and soy lecithin to prevent clogged ducts and a My Brest Friend nursing pillow.
She herself was in the last weeks of her third pregnancy and was undoubtedly exhausted after a long day, but when I, a neighbor who was a mere acquaintance, issued a call for breastfeeding help, she answered. And her husband said, “Go. This is something you’re passionate about.” He stayed behind with their children.
After that, we had a turnaround. We lightened up. We played disco and upbeat music during the night feeds, singing him “Stayin’ Alive” and “Get Up Onto That Thing”. I started laughing instead of crying.
There was my mother-in-law who breastfed all three of her children and encouraged me regularly by telling me that I was giving a wonderful gift to my baby.
There were the women who told me, “Breastfeeding shouldn’t hurt. Let’s find the source of the pain.” I needed to hear that. And there were the women who told me, “Well, it might hurt for awhile. It hurt me for weeks, but it got better. Let’s work on this.” I needed to hear that, too.
There was my doula Susan who somehow finds the time to get past and present doula clients together at Mexican restaurants to develop a mothering community. In those restaurants I watched moms casually pop out a breast and nurse comfortably while waiting for a quesadilla, oblivious of or simply not giving a hoot about the group of young women nearby who whispered and giggled and stared. I remember looking at the whisperers and thinking, “You’re messing with the wrong table, ladies.”
There was chiropractor Molly who always asked me how breastfeeding was going and who taught me exercises to do with my son to help him loosen up his jaw and lips and relax his body so we could work our way toward ending the nursing pain. She was always ready to share her own experiences, and when we left, it felt more like I had just shared coffee with a friend than been a patient.
There were other medical professionals who provided support along the way. Nurses and lactation counselors at the hospital, a lactation specialist who paid us a much-needed house visit in the first couple weeks and taught me the “nipple flip” method. There was Mississippi Lactation Services who found the posterior tongue tie, and Dr. Glick who assured me that “Nursing is a relationship, and breastfeeding advice can only go so far–you know best.”
There were friends who brought us meals in those first weeks, whether they were fellow parents or not. They freed up time for us so that I could focus on nourishing and bonding with my baby and my other family helpers could focus on supporting me whatever way I needed. It gave all of us some extra time to rest and recharge.
There was my own mother again. As she stayed with us the first two weeks and watched many many people give me breastfeeding advice that I was desperate to receive, she kept it simple. She gave me faith.
“He’s going to get it,” she’d say. “Don’t worry; this is just temporary.”
My husband. My wonderful husband. He got up with me in the middle of the night to fetch me water and rub my feet while I nursed. He made me oatmeal in the morning, following the instructions my mom had left behind to add nuts, ground flax, chia seed, dried and fresh fruit, honey. He made quick runs to Babies ‘R Us and Target before closing time to get correct flange sizes and nipple cream and cooling gel pads.
He never once said, “Why don’t I get to feed him? Wouldn’t it be easier if I just gave him a bottle?” He stood by my side and watched while I was in pain, strong enough to stand with me in my pain rather than needing to be able to solve my problem. He didn’t just know to do this naturally; I had read The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding in pregnancy and knew the discussions that we needed to have before this baby arrived.
He took copious notes when the lactation specialist paid us a house visit to help us in the first weeks of breastfeeding. He trusted me, relentlessly supported me.
And my baby. All he had to do was be himself, and thankfully he didn’t know any other way to be. He started smiling at me just when I felt like I couldn’t take it anymore. He was his persevering, curious, brave self who tries and tries again.
He and I have worked through mutual frustration together. I’m learning to not just be a mother, but to be his mother. I haven’t just breastfed any baby, I breastfed him and learned as much about him as I learned about myself. We are in relationship together, and we commune, just him and me, several times a day.
Once nursing really got going, there was my fellow first-time mom Toni who has lounged with me, boobs out and boobs in. We’ve nursed together on little hikes, in museums, in parks, in our beds. We’ve carried on conversations about marriage, motherhood, family dynamics, passions, and stay-at home mom identity with our babies attached to us. Knowing that someone else is traveling this journey with you and sitting in life-giving community with them is powerful.
Now I serve the same role for another newly nursing mama. And my own mentors continue to teach me so much just by being in their presence. I watch the examples of women who have entered the realm of extended breastfeeding into the toddler and preschool years. From them I’ve learned about using nursing past infancy as a way to teach children about consent, body ownership, and body boundaries.
This is my village.
I’ve needed them every step along the way. It took a village to breastfeed my baby. I was fortunate to get the help I needed.
It’s a beautiful celebration of life. It’s loving community in action. It’s acceptance and support and faith in each other.
I look around at the sister mamas in my life, and I know the stories of how their babies were nourished and grew.
This baby’s never had a drop of formula; this one has a bottle of formula after every nursing session.
This one-year-old still wants milk throughout the day, and this one only wants it before sleeping or when hurting.
This mama is night weaning her toddler and only gives “milkies when the sun comes up”.
This mama wants to bring the breastfeeding relationship with her toddler to an end due to a strong nursing aversion she’s developed.
This mama pumps milk for the milk bank so preemie babies or babies of mamas who can’t produce enough milk can benefit from the liquid gold.
Each mama has found what works for her and for her child. My journey doesn’t make me a stronger or better mother than she is and hers doesn’t make her better than me. We’re in this together.
This is what normalizing breastfeeding looks like in community.
It looks like sharing knowledge, being present, sitting with a nursing mom or just bringing her water when the party’s in the other room.
It looks like helping each other access information while also accepting the nuances in each other’s nursing relationships.
It looks like sometimes providing books and lanolin and guidance but also stepping aside and trusting that ultimately mama knows what works for her and her baby.
It looks like growing up knowing what breasts can do and seeing them nourish our mammalian babies rather than just being objects of desire.
It looks like grandmothers helping new mothers and friends helping friends.
It looks like letting a new mom know, “I’m a nursing mom, and you can call me or text me with any questions.”
It looks like a pregnant mom watching latch videos and reading about breastfeeding, preparing for the important task of feeding your baby just as you might prepare a space for baby to sleep or buy clothes she will wear.
It looks like helping each other be aware that nursing can come with a lot of emotional and physical challenges but that most of them can be worked through with access to knowledge and support.
It looks like giving yourself grace when things aren’t going as you expected. It’s finding the right balance between having flexibility in your plans, sustaining your own mental and emotional health, and persevering through the difficult days.
It looks like not making any mom feel ashamed of her choices and not making her feel like breastfeeding makes or breaks her success or worth as a mom.
The way we feed our baby is a very personal, sensitive decision.
We can honor each other’s stories.
I want to be able to be proud of the hard work and perseverance I put into my nursing relationship without making other moms feel like if they didn’t push through the challenges, they failed.
I want my nursing story to help other moms in the throes of nursing madness to feel like they can push through the difficulty if it’s what they want to do but to also feel like if it’s not viable due to physical, mental, or emotional health reasons, then that’s ok, too.
I want to honor every mom because we all fight for the wellbeing of our babies in different ways while also fighting for ourselves and our own health.
I want to celebrate the fact that this is something I’ve done right. This is something I set out to do, and I’ve done it. I faced challenges, and it wasn’t as I expected. I certainly haven’t enjoyed all of it, but I still did it. Knowing this about myself was an important development for me as a mother. In the midst of so many parenting decisions and daily small doubts, this is something that gives me confidence as a mother. It is the anchor to my mothering identity.
That doesn’t mean you’ve done it wrong if your path has looked different. This was my anchor, my confidence, and I hope you have yours. I hope you have found the thing that is helping you believe in yourself as a mother.
Breastfeeding resources that helped me:
La Leche League – find your local chapter, search Facebook for your local chapter, as well
Kellymom– great evidence-based resource for breastfeeding advice
The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding – a book I would recommend to every expectant mom, even if she’s not sure she wants to breastfeed. It looks thick, but much of it is troubleshooting that can be read later as needed. I would say this is a must-read for anyone hoping to establish a breastfeeding relationship. This is an affiliate link, which means I receive a small amount of compensation if you make a purchase from Amazon using this link.
Dr. Jack Newman’s breastfeeding videos
Breastfeeding in the first hours after birth – a helpful video for initiating the breastfeeding relationship
As a La Leche League Leader for 25 years, I salute you and applaud you!