If you could give only five pieces of breastfeeding advice to a new mother, what would you say? Here’s what I’d tell her.

Serving doubles at the breastfeeding bar, straight up with a twist of peaceful parenting.


If you could give only five pieces of breastfeeding advice to a new mother, what would you say? Here’s what I’d tell her.


Nursing our children is incredibly important to us. We’re proud, grateful, sometimes hesitant, always brave. See how quickly we all LEAPED at a chance to share some of our most treasured breastfeeding moments?
That moment when our babies gave us the big ol’ doe eyes, thanking us from somewhere deep in their souls for nourishing them? We couldn’t ignore it. And we’re so happy about it, we want others to notice too.
An innocently cute brelfie (breastfeeding selfie) trend like this should go viral and incite mad passion — even the World Health Organization said so in a UN briefing for this year’s World Breastfeeding Week.
We’ve been patient. So very patient. But we’re starting to get antsy in our nursing gliders and uncomfortable under the paisley tent-covers. It takes this degree of overwhelming social media with Tree of Life brelfies to normalize breastfeeding by tomorrow, when it really should have happened yesterday.


I make lots of milk. I won’t hesitate to admit I’m satisfied with this fate. That said, it is a little harder to explain how my overly zealous breasts have also caused several of my main nursing challenges.
After a third official run-in with mastitis since giving birth seven months ago (fifth time between two babies), please hear me when I say… sometimes this blessing feels a bit like a curse in disguise.


Is circumcision the ‘Voldemort’ in a conversation about early breastfeeding difficulties? Though it’s a studied certainty that infant circumcision can have ruinous effects upon breastfeeding, it seems only the rare or high-profile breastfeeding expert dares to mention this risk by name, much less maintain an official protocol for assistance if challenges arise.


The power of transformation is an inherent gift of woman. The spider, snake, and butterfly are just a few of many creatures regarded as manifestations of feminine energy and universal symbols of shape-shifting. A master of creation, woman’s body is the original 3D printer. When she nurses a child, as Mark Twain once said, “she has no equal among men.”
Somehow still, many of us know discontent with or hatred for our bodies, whether transient or persistent. What’s worse is we believe it’s normal. Accepted to the point of expectation. This is especially true at the moment we inherit our mothering bodies. Through literally all forms of media and outlets for opinion, we are told before anything else that mothering bodies are not sexy, therefore not valuable, therefore invisible.
It’s a dangerous trajectory for the postpartum woman who is vulnerable, open, and recovering — she is brainwashed to confuse these things with weakness, brokenness, incapability, and decreased desirability. Read More


I have a lot of trust these days.
Mothers in our culture are told she should wean her older child when she’s pregnant (“or else you’ll miscarry!”); that the older one will take all the important nutrients away from the new baby if they tandem nurse; that the older kid should be eating “real” food so nursing is no longer a “need” (as if breastfeeding is alone defined by its nutritional profile); that the older child will never wean on his own.
I was forced to confront the truth-to-myth ratio in these things I really had no idea about. I wondered if I’m doing things right, I consulted with my intuition (and my children because they’re wiser than we give them credit for — and, I’ll admit, online forums and a Tarot deck more than once).
I realized tandem nursing just happens however it does, despite any careful planning or controlling I may have preferred. On a deeper, more trusting level, I know this is happening as its meant to.
I know my almost four-year-old MaiTai isn’t going to bogart all the milk that my newly four-month-old Julep needs. I know it’s okay for me to nurse my older kid in public. I know I’m not the first or last mother to tandem nurse children aged several years apart.
But the logistics of it all… the logistics! There’s no map for this.


Wondering whether you should take photos of your birth? The short answer is… yes, you should! If you’re against the idea or on the fence, you might think you’ll be too bashful, grossed out, or nonchalant to ever want to look at them. But wouldn’t it be nice to know you have the option, just in case you have a change of heart?
If photography is in your birth plan, make a point to designate someone responsible for charging the camera ahead of time and setting the time stamps correctly. They should know how to operate the camera (especially in low-lighted settings because flash might disturb your labor). They should be prepared with a list of moments you don’t want them to miss (whatever you think will be meaningful to you — the birth altar you spent an hour setting up, crowning, first latch, separation of the cord, any surprise events, get creative!).


This weekend I attended The Global Big Latch On as a mother, a resource person, and an advocate.
So what’s the point of women and their nurslings congregating to breastfeed together at 10:30 a.m. for sixty seconds? (Most of the kids were latched long before and after, of course). First, GBLO wanted to set a new world record for the most children simultaneously latched to breastfeed, and for the most moms simultaneously breastfeeding.
This popular World Breastfeeding Week event also spreads awareness of all the different ways mothers breastfeed (nursing newborns, infants and toddlers, older kids, tandem nursing, adoptive nursing, wet nursing, with various apparatus like nipple shields or SNS, restricted diet nursing, supplementing, and exclusively pumping mothers were counted for the latch, too).
It intends to encourage support networks for families within their communities during the breastfeeding years and beyond.


After the first day of our conference, The Designated Dad rode the elevator up to our room with MaiTai, totally worn out. Along for the ride were three other conference attendees and one cheerful army guy who asked, “So why are you all here?”
They told him they were attending a breastfeeding conference. It was, in fact, the La Leche League Texas Area Conference, which is held every two years. (I know, ‘the La’ is pretty tacky but what can you do?).
His incredulous response: “What? Oh wow! They have conferences for everything these days. I guess it makes sense. But what do you even have to talk about?”


“We absolutely need to see positive, educational breastfeeding images on social media and to encounter these maternal norms on a daily basis. Women learn how to breastfeed by example and observation, as is the natural design, rather than by instinctual expertise.
For a new mother, breastfeeding is like using a muscle she’s never used before — NOT like picking up an exercise routine with the blessing of muscle memory (even with breastfeeding experience, she still must learn afresh how to breastfeed each new child).” – Brelfies Aren’t TMI — They Celebrate a Power Exclusive to “Mom Bods”


Mamas, here are some ideas that can make the postpartum era feel comforting, warm, nurturing, and even beautiful. This is a time of great transformation, and when the rough surface is polished away, one for new beginnings. Give it space to live up to its potential as perhaps one of the most forgiving and therapeutic eras of your life.


Via vanityfair.com
Well, this is a bummer. One of my favorite television shows may not be breastfeeding-friendly, and some of my favorite characters even voiced the lines that heavily suggest it to be so.
Stuck in bed and on various soft surfaces last week thanks to a bout of mastitis, naturally I took to a Gilmore Girls marathon on Netflix. All was well until one of main character Lorelai’s short-lived suitors mentioned how “We’re all nourished by our mothers” and she quickly shut it down with a retort that went something like “Don’t gross me out.”
So, me sitting there, breastfeeding advocate and all… awwwkwaaard. Now now, perhaps just more of the same witty banter that’s characteristic of the show’s underlining sarcasm. I thought Gilmore Girls had always been fun without going too far and getting mean-spirited…
But then I saw the opening segment of another episode, Season 3’s “Eight O’Clock at the Oasis.”


Thinking maybe it’s time to switch sides…
Breast pads? Ha. What a joke.
I hate wearing bras, but in public they’re my only hope for a solid enough barrier between my trigger-happy nipples and my shirt. I don’t know why I bother because I still get soaked. Maybe it just makes me feel proactive?
I don’t stand with my arms tightly crossed in public because I’m a haughty snob. It’s just because I’ve got to muzzle the mammaries somehow, and pressure works well. More subtle and civilized than cupping them with my hands, anyway.
I don’t wear thick tops in the Texas summer heat because I want to live in a microwave. Milk leaking? Can’t disrobe? Layers, friend.


This is the story of my second child’s birth. My first son MaiTai was born three and a half years ago in a hospital. (I’ll share details of that tale in a future post).
***BEFORE YOU READ: Again, this is a birth story. If you’re not accustomed to reading real birth stories, are uncomfortable with images of birth-related nudity, or have a very particular definition of what’s TMI, you might consider skipping this post.***


It hasn’t been long since I wrote my previous post about how 3.5 year old MaiTai apparently wouldn’t be tandem nursing. Well, perhaps I spoke too soon.