Reflections of a Lactivist
From Passive to Active Breastfeeding
I am a lactation activist — a Lactivist, if you will. I breastfeed my son, and I do it with pride.
Lactation is a beautiful thing. I hadn't given it much thought prior to getting pregnant. I just assumed breastfeeding was something I would do. But over the past year, I have transformed from a passive breastfeeder into a Lactivist.
I will nourish my child throughout his life with a diverse range of healthy foods. But his very first food was of my own body.
Now let me explain that contrary to common sense, breastfeeding — while coming naturally — does not come effortlessly. It is a learned skill — an art. In fact, there are people who devote a career to helping mamas learn how to nurse their babies.
My midwife (and Lactivist mentor) taught me how to breastfeed only moments after I birthed my son. She showed me how to cradle the baby close, position my breast for insertion into that tiny rooting mouth, and draw the child in. She taught me how to gently tug on his little chin to make sure his lips were pursed and his latch was correct.
I reached a new understanding of beauty as I watched my son nurse in those early weeks: his jaw moving up and down, his lips flared around my breast, swallowing the sweet, milky goodness.
Breastfeeding is naturally designed to meet the specific needs of a baby. I am at once proud and humbled that I was able to offer him a first food so perfectly designed to comfort, nourish, and protect.
The perfection of this first food inspired me, but the culture of nursing is what turned me into a Lactivist.
Early into motherhood, I realized — breasts are designed for feeding babies! (Duh! Why else are we called mammals?!)
All these years, my breasts had been hanging around looking nice, but not doing a damn thing! Finally, as a Lactivist, my breasts had a purpose.
I am puzzled, however, by the taboo of breastfeeding in public in a society where everywhere I look there are breasts bulging out of push-up bras!
Understandably, people are much more anxious to sneak a peek at the perky cleavage of a scantily clad co-ed than they are to catch a glimpse of a nipple after a distracted baby yanks his head away and exposes his surprised mama to the wide eyes of those around her.
However, I do not hesitate to feed my child any time or in any place out of "respect" for the comfort of those around me.
Breastfeeding is natural. It is how babies are meant to be fed. I refuse to succumb to the cultural notion that it is preferential to feed my child an inferior substance out of a plastic container so that someone doesn䴜t get uncomfortable if I flash a little nipple.
I have whipped out a boob in a variety of situations. Some of my favorites include while dining out at a restaurant; waiting for, boarding, and riding the bus; in line at airport security and in flight across the country; in church, at school, and while shopping at St. Vinny's.
I like it when children take notice of nursing babies. They don't hesitate to come in close and check things out. I tell them — this is how mamas feed their babies.
Maybe if kids grow up seeing women breastfeeding, the next generation of mothers will be more supported in its choice of this perfect food.
Breastfeeding is good for me, too.
It slows me down. It requires that I take time to sit, relax and gaze at my baby. Breastfeeding gives me time to breath, to think, to pray. It brings me peace.
Soon enough my son will wean and my breastfeeding days will be over. But nursing or not, I know that I will always be a Lactivist.