Mom-Guilt Confession #879: I pretty much hated breastfeeding the first time around. It hurt. A lot. I felt like my body was not my own. I was embarrassed by my ginormous, leaking breasts. Most of all, I hated that I had to excuse myself from social settings, hide in the car, or just stay home when it was time to feed the baby -- every hour and a half!
This time around, knowing how freakin' expensive formula is, I decided to give it another go. The big difference this time, though, was deciding I would not be embarrassed about breastfeeding; I would own it. After all, I've waited my whole life for these double-D's, why not make the most of them? I'm not talking plopping myself in the middle of the mall and whipping out my boobs for all to see. I'm discreet and usually cover us both up with my fabulous baby sling. But with an active almost-5-year-old, three months off with my family, and a spring season of amazing weather, I refuse to go through this child's infancy in self-imposed busty exile.
So I've embraced my inner earth mama and my new motto is "have boobs, will travel." Chris and I have made it a little game, too, to keep track of all the interesting places these boobies have been over the course of Jake's infancy. So far, the list includes
* The children's section of Barnes & Noble (twice)
* The back pew of All Saints Roman Catholic Church at the end of my sis-in-law's wedding (then the unoccupied private dining room at the reception)
* A park bench near a random playground in NJ on our way home from my grandmother's
* The reference section of the Brandywine Library (and the bench next to the Talley Day Park playground right after we left the library)
* A bench by a scenic overlook on the outskirts of the Wilmington Flower Market fair
* My seat behind home plate in the top of the 8th inning of the Wilmington Blue Rocks game
The girls have also been put to work in various parking lots in the tri-state area, including those outside Target (more than once), the Herr's Factory, a pizza place on Rte. 202, a restaurant in Bucks County, and Hayden's preschool.
So far we're doing ok, my boobs, my baby, and me. Jake sure is rocketing up the growth chart, and I feel a special sense of pride in knowing that my super-milk is responsible. I may have become so comfortable with breastfeeding, though, that it's going to kick me in the butt when I go back to work next week. Jake still won't take a bottle from Chris; he goes completely berserk whenever you even put the bottle near his face, screaming like a dragon with a toothache. Ironic, eh?