I had timed it out perfectly.
We would get to dinner, be seated and we’d finish up right when it was time for his next feeding. The whole family was there, my parents and brothers. We walked into the restaurant and it was packed. The lady said it was going to be an hour wait and I panicked. I agreed to wait telling myself I need to learn to go with the flow.
As I stood there my anxiety began to grow stronger and stronger. Finally, I asked Brett if he would run home and just grab a bottle of pumped milk. My saint of a husband agreed and made the 20-minute drive home and then 20 minutes back.
When he returned we were just being sat. Asher was content at the moment but it was late and he was getting hungrier. We ordered our food and then he began fussing. Brett tried warming up the bottle in the restroom but the water wouldn’t get hot enough so he asked the waitress for hot water.
I sat there and felt like a failure. I was failing my baby. Too afraid to just give him what he wanted, what he needed. Asher started to cry and the waitress wasn’t returning. I was letting my baby down.
Finally, she came back with a mug of hot water. We dropped the bottle in and waited. Then I lost it. My guilt was overflowing. Why couldn’t I just be brave enough to nurse my baby in public?! I grabbed up Asher and yelled at my husband. I was angry. Angry because I had to blame someone for my shortcomings.
I took Asher to the car and I nursed him. As I sat alone I knew I had made a fool of myself. After making my husband drive all the way home and back I still went to the car. Even if I wasn’t brave enough to nurse my baby in public why wouldn’t I just let him have the bottle? The pressures of breastfeeding were swallowing me whole. I knew that my family was so understanding and my husband would do anything to make me comfortable but yet I had to blame someone because I knew it was all my fault. I sat a little longer in the car and tried to understand why I wasn’t strong enough. Why was this so hard.
I felt calm as I walked back into the restaurant with my head hanging low. My family didn’t say anything. They were finished eating. I began to pack up my things when I felt the car seat was soaked. I picked up the bottle bag and inside of it was a puddle of milk. The bottle nipple wasn’t on properly and the milk had leaked out.
I lost it.
Right there in the middle of the restaurant, I yelled. How could Brett do such a thing?! All of my hard work wasted. It was his fault. Everything was. On top of it all, he had no idea what I was going through. How much I sacrificed and how he didn’t have to go through half of what I did.
This time Brett was the one to grab everything and leave. I followed behind him barely saying bye to my entire family. I knew I was wrong but I couldn’t stop the words from coming out. I was overflowing. I had reached my breaking point. I knew it was bad because my husband never loses his cool like this. It was easier to blame him than to blame myself.
This was just one of the so many occasions where I felt like I let my baby down, let myself down. This was just one of the many occasions I completely lost it on my husband because it was easier to be angry at him than to be sad. It was easier to blame him than to blame myself.
Breastfeeding is a touchy subject. Out of sight out of mind. Prior to being a mom, I had never even seen a woman nurse a baby. I wasn’t sure if I was really afraid because of what others would think or if I just wasn’t comfortable exposing myself or if it’s all one and the same.
Fast forward ten months later, I nursed him on the floor at Target.
Yes, me the same girl who couldn’t use a nursing cover at a restaurant or feed my baby in front of friends. You see that smile? That is one of true happiness. The people who walked by or said excuse me while they quickly left the aisle saw a woman who was confident enough to throw down a bean bag chair on the ground and feed her baby or maybe they saw a swanky mom whipping out her breasts in public…
What I see when I look at this picture is one small victory for all nursing moms and one HUGE victory for myself.
I see a mom fighting back against the norm.
I see a mom doing whatever it takes.
I see bravery.
I see confidence.
But above all I see a mom feeding her baby…
Because that’s what it is. That’s all it is. I know that now. And if I could go back and tell my new mom self this maybe it would have saved me a whole lot of anxiety.
By giving in to my fear of public nursing I was giving all those against it validation to their belief.
It is not sexual.
It is not a cry for attention.
It is not inappropriate or unacceptable.
It is simply a mother feeding her baby.
One small victory for all nursing woman in the fight to normalize breastfeeding and one huge victory for me as a mother.
There are so many stressful things as a new mom, how we feed our baby should be the last one. Regardless of how you choose to, be easy on each other. We all have the same goal in the end! To raise our children the best way we know how.
xo, Karlene