Updated: Oct. 29, 2020 | Originally Published: Aug. 30, 2016
“Right here?” I hesitated.
“Yeah. Why not?”
To my left, my father-in-law savored a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs. On my right, my partner was meticulously cutting up a waffle for our daughter. I glanced down at my newborn son, just four days old. I gently caressed his tiny hand and inhaled deeply. Across the table, my mother fixed me with a steely gaze.
The weight of it all. So much weight.
Between the discomfort of my recovering body, tender nipples, and the surge of postpartum feelings, I realized that dining out with family so soon after giving birth was not the best choice.
“I’m heading to the car.”
“You sure?” my partner asked, sipping his coffee.
“Yeah,” I replied. “I’ll be alright.”
I grabbed the baby bag, carefully placed my son in the carrier, and headed outside into the crisp November air. Tears streamed down my face as I angrily texted my best friend, feeling overwhelmed.
I was struggling with breastfeeding in public, and I was frustrated about it.
At just four days postpartum, breastfeeding felt like it was consuming me entirely. The truth about nursing a baby is that no amount of reading or advice from lactation consultants can truly prepare you for the rollercoaster of emotions and experiences that come with it.
This was my second baby, so I should have been more confident, right? Not quite. With my first child, I had an unsuccessful nursing journey and ended up exclusively pumping. I pumped in airports, conference rooms, and even in cars for over a year. When I was pregnant with my son, all I wanted was to successfully nurse him.
He arrived at home, assisted by a supportive midwife, and latched on like a pro. To calm my nerves, I visited a lactation consultant the day after his birth. Not just any consultant — a Black one. This was crucial for me. After previous experiences, I longed for a connection with someone who understood my background.
Aisha was highly recommended by my midwife and instantly felt like a friend when she welcomed us into her office.
“My breasts are really big,” I confided.
She chuckled.
“And my nipples are flat,” I added.
She laughed again, guiding me to get comfortable with my baby.
“I don’t even know if I can do this. I couldn’t with my daughter.”
“Girl, we’re not bringing those negative vibes in here.”
We talked, she coached me gently, and even cradled my baby. When my partner stepped out to grab the diaper bag, she showed me her breasts — they looked just like mine. The same breasts that nourished her four children. It might sound odd, but seeing another woman’s body gave me a glimmer of hope. She assured me that if she could breastfeed, so could I.
Fast forward nine months, and I’ve been nursing my baby while juggling the chaos of a preschooler and work, all on limited sleep. I chuckle when I recall my first attempt to nurse him in public; now I can nurse him effortlessly wherever we are.
Representation matters. Sometimes, you need to see someone who reflects your own experience to truly believe in your ability. As a Black mother breastfeeding, connecting with a lactation consultant who looked like me changed everything.
My hope is that when mothers like me — Black moms, those with larger breasts, or those feeling insecure about their bodies — express their frustrations, they find the support they need. If I ever meet a mom in that same boat, I won’t hesitate to show her my own breasts to encourage her, letting her know that if my body can nourish my children, hers can too.
From August 25 to 31, we celebrate the sixth annual Black Breastfeeding Week. To learn more, visit the website.
In the journey of motherhood, finding community and resources is vital. For more insights into fertility, check out this article on fertility boosters for men. And for comprehensive information on the topic, visit Genetics and IVF Institute, which serves as an excellent resource for pregnancy and home insemination. You can also learn about community safety in self-insemination here: Community Safety.
Summary
This article highlights the importance of representation in breastfeeding support, especially for Black mothers. Aisha Thompson shares her emotional journey of breastfeeding her second child, emphasizing the significance of connecting with a lactation consultant who reflects her own experiences. Through her story, she encourages other mothers facing similar challenges to seek support and understand that they are not alone in their journeys.