A few weekends ago, at my parents' house, I sat down at the kitchen table to pump before heading to bed. It was late, and I was tired, but as I've learned very well by now, it's important for me to get a nightly session in to help keep up my supply. So I do it. Night after night, no matter how late the hour. This time, my mom sat down at the table with me, and caught me up on all her latest stories.
One of her tales involved going on a walk with two close family friends, one of whom is the grandmother of a child who is just three weeks older than Peanut. As they walked, they talked about how the mom of the other child was no longer able to breastfeed, since her supply had dried up. They asked if I was still breastfeeding Peanut, and my mom affirmed that indeed, I was.
"Well, that's because ss has good-sized boobs," one friend said. "So she can make a lot of milk."
I was taken aback.
"I told them that your aunt, who has tiny breasts, was able to breastfeed your cousins for a year," my mom reported. "I told them that it's because you work really hard to breastfeed, and that you're pumping at work and at night. That's why you still have milk. Not because of the size of your breasts." Her tone was indignant.
Once again, I was taken aback, but this time, in a good way. A really, really good way. While I know my mom loves me, she doesn't say it very openly, or often. She's typically more quick to judge or criticize than compliment or affirm me, especially when it comes to experiences in which she and I have a shared experience. "I did things X way so you should be able to, too," is a common refrain for her. To hear her acknowledge how much work I've put into breastfeeding Peanut for 8 months, to hear her tell me that she acknowledged the fact to other people, and defended me from the reductionist idea that my breast size determines my ability to breastfeed, especially when her own breastfeeding experience was different, was incredibly moving.
When Peanut was born, I set a goal to breastfeed her for a year, if my
body and circumstances would allow. And I am so grateful that they
have until now. I know not everyone has the opportunity, support, resources or
privilege to make the choice to breastfeed, and I make no judgement on
the situations or choices of others. It's just that I now know, intimately, how physically and emotionally challenging the experience can be.
I have now been breastfeeding Peanut for eight months. I am so proud of that fact, because it has taken time, energy, effort, calories, planning, dedication, commitment, prioritizing, and willpower. Every single day. It has required me to endlessly count ounces, pump a minimum of four times a day, deal with painful plugged ducts, commute with bottles and ice packs and pump parts on my back, pull stunts like figure out how to travel internationally with enough pumped milk on ice to sustain Peanut for 36 hours, manage constant fatigue, and so much more. And still, every day, I have made the choice to continue doing it.
It's not often that I reflect on how much of the past eight months of my life have been shaped by the experience of being a breastfeeding parent, when in fact, my current life is entirely built around it. For my mom to take the time to tell me, in the most direct way she could muster, that she was proud of my efforts, well - it felt good, and helped motivate me to keep on pumping along.
