Breastfeeding AIN'T A Privilege. 😒

I'm up and bleary-eyed, cuddling with my nursling. She has her feet in my bra (don't ask!) and she's contentedly watching a cow on YouTube as she twiddles her teether elephant. (Look into ChewMe Jewelery on IG, Etsy, and FB for custom teethers--they're amazing, adorable, and incredibly durable. Ours are about 3 years old and still look new. Most importantly they're still safe and still soothing the littlest Namastè.)

I digress.

I'm aware that breastfeeding is a lot of work. It's a learning process. It's a dance that both mom and baby must choreograph to suit their individual situation. It's like a second (or third?) job!

But it is NOT a privilege.

On one of my errand runs this week, I happened to feed the baby. (Fancy that, the little bird was hungry?!)  I've gotten used to people either complimenting, congratulating, or questioning me about nursing. I don't actually enjoy the attention, simply because no one would bat an eye if it were me just eating lunch or having a drink. No one ever calls me brave when I decide to have a sandwich, or tells me how beautiful it is that I'm sipping a Boba tea. They also never tell me to cover up or preach about modesty.

In general,  I'm allowed to eat and or drink to my heart's content and not a soul cares.

But on this particular trip, I heard a new one.

"You're so lucky. It's a privilege to exclusively breastfeed."

I just smiled, nodded.

I chewed on it internally though.

How is it a privilege?

Natural, yes.

Old as time? Also yes.

Privilege?

I'm not sure I see that one.

I do feel proud to breastfeed. After all, I come from a family that has not embraced it. I didn't grow up seeing breasts as anything but sex appeal, things to be covered up. Objects of either extreme modesty or outright fastness. (If a girl showed cleavage and dared talk to boys, she was exhibiting fastness and needed to be toned down, lest she end up disgraced.) Because I didn't dare exhibit said fastness, and was painfully flat, the coveted and dreaded breasts were not a real consideration for me. I'm still expected to cover up around them, which is why I'm not around them much. They still ask when I will wean, or if I've given the baby real milk yet. (I'm not entirely sure what I'm producing and pumping--perhaps it's vodka and my babies have really been actual drunk all this time instead of milk drunk!)

The pride I feel doesn't come from the act itself, but the ability.

I was never taught anything about it, this breastfeeding business. To have done so for the past 3 years and odd week or so is nothing short of amazing for me, personally.

I didn't have books in 2006, the first time I tried. I didn't have an online community. I had yet to meet my amazing friends Princess and Ashanti. I didn't have a lactation consultant.

In 2016 I had all of that. I utilized the heck out of those golden resources. I talked to those two women more, and ingested their wisdom. I researched.

I made it.

But that was not privilege.

Nope.

Privilege would mean it was all just handed to me--the perfect situation, the perfect latch, the perfect supply. The perfect support.

None of my journey has been perfect, and it certainly was not just handed to me. I didn't wake up one day with everything I know, and the support system I've got. All that had to be gleaned, garnered, gathered, and grabbed.

I'm not sure you're aware, but Black women have one of the lowest rates for breastfeeding, especially when you get into the 6 month and beyond marks. We simply do not receive the support, education, or motivation from our Healthcare teams and families.

Breastfeeding requires a mother and her baby obviously, but also some support for the mother. Someone has to be in her corner--cheering, educating, motivating and, at times, correcting her. These things don't just fall out of the sky for anyone. When a mother is too intimidated or simply uneducated on the benefits, she won't even seek them out.

So...I don't see it as a privilege.

It's something I work at, every single day.

Every time my baby latches, we learned that. Every time I pump an ounce, we earned that. Every time I can feed her in public without shame or fear, we took that. Every time that milk soothes an owie, or calms her when she is feeling out of sorts, or reinforces a bond that did not happen instantly, we own that!

Those rolls and dimples on my Tiger Lily, and the strong immune systems and early milestones she and her siblings all demonstrate, are not a privilege. Not a privilege one bit.

It's all the results of working at something we needed. It was never a want--it was a need. I needed to give them my best, but I had to work and learn and perfect it as we've gone. It still isn't textbook perfect, but it's perfect for us.

It isn't a privilege though. A privilege includes choice and control.

I didn't choose how our journey would go. I couldn't. I could only choose how I'd react, respond, and reinforce my resolve to keep going anyway.