My Boobs? Mighty Frickin’ Spectacular, Thank You Very Much

Welcome to the August edition of Authentic Parenting Blog Carnival: Breastfeeding.

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Authentic Parenting Blog Carnival hosted by The Positive Parenting Connection and Authentic Parenting. As August is Breastfeeding awareness month, our participants are writing about this exact subject! Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.


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I’ve been thinking a lot about my breasts lately.

Several weeks ago I began night-weaning my son, now 20 months old. We had a sputtering, exasperating start to our nursing relationship, and though those struggles felt world-rattling at the time, hindsight now grants me a pretty clear understanding that our struggles were standard issue struggles for the spankin’ new nursing dyad. With that first month of breastfeeding in our rear-view mirror, we kicked our nursing relationship into a smooth 5th gear, pedal to the metal, with the top down (literally). It’s been a pretty fantastic ride so far.

We’ve totally night-weaned at this point, and the transition unfurled much easier and gentler than I could have ever expected. It’s clear to me that we were both ready for this change in nursing routine. Still, night-weaning has got me feeling all kinds of introspective, sentimental, and grateful.

There is much I love about breastfeeding, and I’m certain my personal highlights are also probably standard issue for other mamas who’ve fallen in love with nursing their babes:  those content and sated swallows of mama’s milk; those cheeks so warm and rosy from skin-to-skin snuggles; that one arm sleepily draped across the other breast, gently staking claim on his nosh; that sly upturn of the corner of his mouth when he grins as he nurses; that sweet, sugary scent of milky breath; that instant salve that calms and rights any hurt or overstimulation.

Breastfeeding has deepened my sense of connection with my son, but it has also deepened my connection with my own body. Breastfeeding has gifted me with a whole new respect for this body of mine. Like many women I know, I’ve had mixed feelings about my body over the course of my life. From appearance to functioning, we, as women, have been conditioned to question the adequacy of our bodies.  If you’ve ever had a persistent medical issue, or struggled to conceive or sustain a pregnancy, or, hell, even flipped through an issue of Cosmopolitan, chances are that you, too, have battled a nagging distrust and dislike of your body.

As a teenager, I was self-conscious of my breasts. As an undergrad, I was so ambivalent about them that I seldom wore a bra. As a young woman, I came to see breasts as toxic and dispensable. My grandmother had just been diagnosed with breast cancer, and I had fundraised for the Avon Walk for Breast Cancer in her honor. As I walked a marathon’s length with a small group of friends that first day of the event, I was overwhelmed by all of the stories of sickness and death.  I distinctly recall naively commenting to my friends that I was not attached to my own breasts in any way, and were  I ever diagnosed with breast cancer I would experience zero hesitation or reluctance about undergoing a mastectomy. Boobs, I thought, were just boobs.

Except, you know, they’re not just boobs. They’re not toxic or dispensable. And, nearly ten years later, as a nursing mother, I now get just how profoundly meaningful they are.

I now understand what it feels like to love and respect my breasts, to feel my breasts swell with perfect sustenance, to experience the ability to nourish my son exclusively from them for the first almost seven months of his life, and to watch my son flourish from my milk over these last 20 months. It’s a strikingly empowering feeling.

Last weekend a friend and I went to a vaudeville/burlesque show, and I found myself surrounded by impressively strong ladies with gorgeous, perky, pastied breasts. I looked down at my own breasts–shadows of their former gorgeous, perky selves–and smiled broadly. Oh, they are indeed a droopier state of affairs, but, you know what? They are still mighty frickin’ spectacular.

Rhianna lives in St. Louis with her husband and toddler, both of whom heartily agree with her assessment of her boobs. Everyone’s getting more sleep in her house these days (finally), but she’d be a big ol’ liar if she told you she didn’t miss those quiet nighttime nursing seshes a little.

Photo credit.

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APBC - Positive Parenting Connection and Authentic ParentingVisit The Positive Parenting Connection and Authentic Parenting to find out how you can participate in the next Authentic Parenting Blog Carnival!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

Carnival: Embracing Your Birth Experience.

Welcome to the June 2012 Carnival of Natural Parenting: Embracing Your Birth Experience

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama. This month our participants have written about at least one part of their birth experience that they can hold up and cherish.

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Photo credit: S. Kuster 2010

“Do your work, then step back. The only path to serenity”

-from the Tao Te Ching as translated by Stephen Mitchell

Giving birth is extraordinary. On the ever-changing evolutionary tree, it is one of the characteristics that binds us Mammals together. We are different. We are wonderful. On the moment that new life emerges from our womb, we can connect, suckle, soothe, and bond. There is no time for sitting on the nest. There is no room for laying eggs only to go on our way to leave them to the fate of the world. Each mammal from the tiniest mouse to the largest elephant shares a kinship in live birth and we each have our own birth story to tell.

Humans have a special place in the mammalian world. Over the course of a few million years (2Ma to present) there have been approximately 12 species of human prior to modern Homo sapiens sapiens (i.e., you and me!). How do we know this? Paleoanthropologists (the scientists that study human evolution) have examined prehistoric skeletal specimens from around the world and painstakingly put the pieces together on how humans have evolved through time. Each new skeletal find yields exciting additions to the always-developing human story. As we look at the course of human evolution from 2 million years ago to the moment that you are reading this post, there are two characteristics that stand out above all others concerning the birth process: increase in brain size and the narrowing of the pelvis.

What a combo! Homo sapiens sapiens have huge brains compared to their body size (and our brains are getting bigger!). If you look around you, this is major plus. Our technological advances are beyond compare. We have culture, computers (and, thus, The Other Baby Blog), and can fly to the moon. However, if we look at our skeletons, a problem begins to emerge. Whereas our brains have gotten larger (and, thus, our skulls as well), our pelves have not. As humans began to walk upright (on two legs), the mechanical changes required a narrowing of the pelvis (for more information on the Obstetrical Dilemma click here) for more efficient locomtion. However, if you cannot fit a fetus’ head through the birth canal, you cannot give birth (until recently, of course), and species population suffers.

The pelves of other mammals are large in comparison to the head size of the emerging baby, whereas human baby heads completely fill and expand the birth canal an astounding amount. The message is clear. Compared to the rest of the mammal world, humans have a painful and sometimes dangerous disadvantage for giving birth successfully.

But, we do it! And we do it with vigor and a primal excitement unlike any other we will ever experience. There is no perfect birth. All labor is work. It’s hard. We do our work as the Tao Te Ching suggests. No matter what happens during the journey of birth, whether you manage completely unaided or have to receive an epidural or cesearean section, we all strive towards one outcome: a healthy baby and a healthy momma at the other end. Be flexible! We are all in the trenches!

Wonderful women! Stand back from your work and embrace what you have accomplished. I have. Thank the people who have helped you through your birthing journey. You and I are now part of a long lineage of Homo sapiens who have taken part in an extraordinary (and anatomically amazing!) feat. And it feels amazing.

As you hold your newborn baby, put your toddler to sleep, or smile at your teenager from across the dinner table, it gives you a chance every day to stand back from your work and feel the serenity of what you have accomplished. Birth is just the beginning.

Stephanie’s favorite field seasons were spent at the Olorgesailie prehistoric site in the Great Rift Valley of Kenya. She studied the geology of an ancient lake littered with stone tools created by our ancestor, Homo Erectus, about 1 million years ago. 

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Carnival of Natural Parenting -- Hobo Mama and Code Name: MamaVisit Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants: