Motherwear has been running a survey this month asking about the topics you'd like to see in a breastfeeding blog, and many of you have responded that you're interested in hearing about nursing in public. So I thought I'd start with my own nursing in public story. I know you have many of your own, good and bad, and I hope you'll share them in your comments.
One day a few years back I went shopping with my husband and son at Target. The location of this store is immaterial because, as I recently realized, all Target stores appear to be laid out the same. Target is the one place in Massachusetts where, in the dead of winter, I can convince myself that I'm still in California.
Anyway, we were at Target, and my son got fussy. He seemed hungry so I decided to nurse him, knowing that we were risking a scene either way. I found a quiet place in the baby section, sat down on the floor, and fed him.
After a minute or two I noticed a woman walking toward me. As she got closer I could see that she was pointing a finger right at me. She wasn't smiling.
You might not guess this, seeing as I write about breasts on the Internet, but I'm a pretty shy person. I hate public confrontations, especially when they are about something as personal as this. It doesn't feel political when someone attacks something this important to me and my child. It feels deeply personal, and I'm much more likely to cry than yell.
And at that moment, in a striking example of how knowing a lot about something can sometimes make you look like you know nothing at all, I found myself speechless. All of the biochemistry of human lactation was swirling around in my head and the only word that seemed to want to come out was "leukocyte."
But another part of me was seething with anger. I know way too much about the benefits of breastfeeding to let a complete stranger tell me what to do. There is, after all, a Mama Bear in all of us.
So there we were, her finger pointing menacingly, my mouth agape and my mind frantically trying to summon the words to defend something so important to me.
And then she said, "You...are a very good mother." She then turned on her heels and walked away.
