Not long after I had Claire, I brought her to a work function. She got hungry and I asked my supervisor if she’d mind if I (breast)fed her. Her response was firm:
“You should NEVER ask permission or apologize for feeding your baby.”
That made a huge impact on me, and I took it to heart. I have breastfed both of my children—Claire for 22 months, and Cormac for 10 (so far). I have nursed in nearly every place imaginable: on a moving boat, in meetings (both in person and on Zoom), in the middle of a dental exam, etc. In all that time, no one has given me any grief.
When I feed my kids, I try to be discreet, but I don’t go terribly far out of my way either. I see many moms with lovely coverings, although I generally don’t use them. This is partly because I simply don’t have it together enough to bring a cover with me. Also, I like being able to look at my babe in the face; it’s a nice bonding moment. But even without a covering, I don’t feel like I’m exposing myself or being at all inappropriate.
I recently vacationed in New Mexico. While there, we went to the Bradbury Science Museum in Los Alamos. Cormac began getting fussy and displaying his typical signs of hunger. I found a seat near the door and began to feed him.
Just a minute later, a staff member from the museum approached me. “How old?” she asked with a smile. “Ten months,” I answered, but even as I did, I got the impression that she had an agenda beyond just being friendly. She asked, “Can I offer you someplace more private?”
“Oh, no, I’m ok, but thank you,” I replied.
“You might be, but others may not,” she answered conspiratorially. And then she, very politely, showed me to a private office. I was so taken aback that I simply got up and followed her dumbly. She made small talk and I think I responded automatically, but I was in such shock that I didn’t fully process what she was saying.
I sat in the office and finished the feeding. During that time, I felt more and more frustrated. My anger rose. I replaced Cormac in his carrier and headed toward the door where the rest of our group was waiting outside for me (they hadn’t seen the incident and therefore hadn’t known where I’d gone).
I nearly left without saying anything. But at the last minute, I thought better of it, gathered my courage, and returned to the front desk. I thanked her, but then let her know that her actions had made me feel ashamed.
She said, “Oh, I hope you didn’t feel that way…”
“I did.” I said, hot tears springing to my eyes. I explained to her how I have breastfed both my children for 32 months total and I had never—until that day—been asked to move. I thought again of my supervisor’s words and I asked the staff member to, in the future, avoid doing that to any other woman.
I know that she was trying to be kind. She had even explained, as she led me away, that she had breastfed her own four sons. But it hurt me on a deep and emotional level, maybe more than it should have, looking back on it. She had implied that others found me offensive and that was humiliating.
So while I’m sure I’m preaching to the choir here, let this serve as a reminder to be only supportive of women who are breastfeeding. It is a major feat, both physically and emotionally. I once had a wise friend say, “If you see someone breastfeeding, the only thing that is appropriate to say to them is, ‘Can I get you a glass of water?’”
