Bravery? Biology? Whatever.

This was written when my babies were littles. When our youngest was born, our oldest was four, and there are four of them. So basically, we had a baby like some people file their taxes. This post is still applicable to me, just in different ways as our family has grown. 

From time to time someone will ask me where does your bravery come from?

These questions will usually follow a post about a retreat or a vacation, or perhaps upon hearing about a yoga series, or maybe when seeing us at the grocery store, the cart full of children.
 
These are nice questions, but there is a semantics problem because I am not braver than the people who ask.

But perhaps I am more shameless.
 
Trips, yoga, outings, retreats, those are things I WANT to do. I want to go on vacation. I want to teach yoga. I don't necessarily want to go to the grocery store but a girl's gotta eat. And in most cases I DO the things I WANT TO DO.
 
God given optimism and confidence that was steadfastly nurtured in a loving home should not be overlooked-- I am brave, that is true, but ultimately, the reason people ask, comes down to SHAMELESSNESS.
 
And I admit, for me, there is a trick.
 
It is this:

Friends, I breastfeed whenever my baby needs it. On an elevator, in church, around the table, whatever. Yes, I am that lady. 

And, the thing is...

I don't care. 

MY BABY WAS HUNGRY.

Or was about to disturb the peace with pterodactyl-like shrieks.

So I put my boob in her mouth. 
 
I feed my baby when she needs fed. And the truth is that she needs fed a lot. Sometimes it's to fill her little belly but other times it's to pacify her and whatever the case, I feed her. Without gadgets, on the go, when she needs it, BAM! 
 
And this frees us up!
 
We can go anywhere. 
 
If she cries? (And she might.) No biggie, I've got a boob! Heck, I've got two! 
 
If she's hungry? No biggie, I've got milk! More than enough! Too much actually. Want some? (Now that was just out of line.)
 
I think it’s possible women put too much thought into everyone else's comfort and end up sacrificing their own little by little.
 
Because isn't it all about comfort?
 
Aren't we thinking of everyone else?
 
Isn't that really what we are afraid of? Making people uncomfortable? With all of our boobs and nature and earthiness and imperfection.
 
So we collect all this gear to hide ourselves because our tummies aren't flat or because our nipple might show for a millisecond. We hide ourselves. We hide our babies. And we go to great lengths to do it.

AND NONE OF IT WORKED FOR ME! All of the hiding, all of the gear, all of the gadgets, all of the guilt-- the whole thing became pointless and too much trouble. So, I could either stay home and wish that I were braver, or I could commit to the life I wanted.
 
And that commitment had very little to do with bravery. It was about shamelessness! 
 
If I had to carry around gear in order to breastfeed (think hooter hider, Boppie, boob sling, the right bra, whatever-- gadgets have never worked for me) we would never go anywhere! If I had a fear of making people uncomfortable with my maternal obligations we would never go anywhere! But, 1) I don't have gear. I abandoned it long ago. And, 2) my biggest concern is my baby's comfort not the comfort of strangers.

If I had to become a pack mule in order to slip a boob in her mouth and focused too heavily on everyone else in the room while I did it, I could see the reluctance to being free… because that's not free at all.
 
So what looks like bravery is actually shamelessness. What looks like adventure is actually greed-- a good, healthy greed to do the things that make me feel taken care of: retreats, get aways, restaurants, girls' weekends, exercise.
 
I'll bare my boobs to do the things that make me happy, and frankly if someone saw something it is because they were trying to, and I'm not sure how that's my problem. 
 
See? Part shameless, part greedy, and a tiny bit exhibitionist. But HAPPY.
 
I think it is important to do the things we need to do in order to be the mom that we want to be. And I want to be on the go. 
 
The truth is that hooter hiders and I have had one too many wrestling matches. Maybe I'm just bad at it, but I don't think I've ever seen anyone do it effortlessly. 
 
I personally have from PTSD from the whole hooter hider ordeal. I can sweat just thinking about it. I would get out the adult bib, and try to get out a boob without looking, keeping the tent/shield in its proper place while trying to keep the blasted thing OUT OF THE WAY to unleash a boob and get a baby to latch on to it. I mean who can do all that under a sheet without looking? It's a ridiculous suggestion, really. Being a mom doesn't make me a magician! And, I sweat every single time. I struggle and smile and rip my clothes and finagle my bra and try to keep a conversation going like it's all no big deal and bounce my impatient, groping, nestling baby and sweat some more until I finally just want to rip the neck apron off and bare my chest to the entire restaurant and yell maniacally HERE THEY ARE, OK???!!! CAN WE JUST GET THIS OVER WITH??!! LOOK! GO AHEAD, GET A GANDER!! IF YOU REALLY WANTED TO SEE SOMETHING YOU SHOULD HAVE GIVEN ME THIS GOD FORSAKEN THING FIVE YEARS AGO WHEN MY BOOBS WERE ACTUALLY WORTH A PEEK!!!! All while pouring sweat. I'm sweating just typing this nonsense. 
 
And, don't you think our babies feel the exact same way? 

​Yes! Time to eat. Boob boob boob. Milk milk milk. Boob boob boob. Wait, what's all this tent apron shield business???? Mom, what are ya doing up there? There it is. Where'd it go? There it is. Where'd it go? Lady, be still. Be normal. Quit sweating. What is going on here? And what could POSSIBLY be taking so long-- there it is, where'd it go-- and what in the world are you asking me to do? Sleep? Suffocate? I don't understand? Here, I'll help. Let's start with getting this ridiculous big top, canvas monstrosity out of the way. Woman, stop resisting me. Why are you acting like we don't do this every two hours WHILE YOU SLEEP? But we get to a restaurant, and you act a fool. I can't take you anywhere! Enough of that, I say. Get this thing off of me! Well, hey hey, HELLOOOO WORLD! I'm about to eat, isn't it great? Join me, won't you? Everyone, please, settle down now, and watch me eat. 
 
In some cases we have actually convinced ourselves that our inconvenience of feeding a baby in a dirty public bathroom is worth the inconvenience of strangers enduring our motherhood for a few moments. And this kind of self- sacrificing just has too much sacrifice in it for me. I'm not a magician, not a martyr, just a mom.
 
I remember Sylas being six days old. We were at a baptism class and I was standing up, holding him in a football hold, and he ate while I walked around on a tour of the church. The other women in that class were amazed and were happy to congratulate me for so quickly settling into motherhood. And, looking back, what they were probably amazed by was my indifference or nonchalance. Because trust me there was nothing expert about it, I was cracked and bleeding with him, and would tell anyone who would listen in order to get some tips. But whatever it was-- indifference, nonchalance-- it has served me well. Feeding my baby without baggage, without drama, knowing that she can be happy wherever we are because I have no reservations about bearing a breast keeps us mobile. And mobile might look brave, but really, it's much easier than bravery.
 
Having certainty in my ability to pacify a baby at any moment gets me out of our house and into novel situations with confidence and that is what keeps me happy, fulfilled, and like I haven't sacrificed too much when it comes to motherhood. Yes, I have these beautiful children, but I can still be me-- the me they need me to be, the me I need to be. 
 
I understand that shameless breast feeding isn't for everyone because not everyone needs a darn outing as badly as I do, but analyzing the things that make us feel most like ourselves and arranging our motherhood around them to ensure that they are in tact is I believe one of the most important aspects of happy mothering and one of the best things we can do for our babies.