Covered, uncovered, in the checkout line at Target... I've breastfed everywhere. Is it time for my wet nurse yet?
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A Letter to My Fellow Breastfeeders of the World

Covered, uncovered, in the checkout line at Target... I've breastfed everywhere. Is it time for my wet nurse yet?

By Grace Wisser of Wonderful Life of Mom

Dear Breastfeeders of the World,

Okay, I’m going to say just what I’ve been thinking: I offend people in public by breastfeeding my child.

Here’s the deal: Strangers don’t mind telling me to stuff my boob back into my nursing bra. I just get the kind with that fussy buckle snap that requires two hands for closure to give them something to really complain about.

Look, I get it. I’ve breastfed all of my 7 children. Like a retiree in Boca Raton who can’t stop playing golf, I have to nurse on demand everywhere I go. By the dumpster in the back alley. Behind the sofa couch in my living room, hiding from the rest of the family. On swampy patches by the highway. In the middle of the Target checkout line. The possibilities are exhausting.

While I breastfeed in chilly weather, I cloak my child in a tent-like afghan as onlookers pass by, admiring my ability to knit such a complex weave.

When the heat meets high noon, blazing with a desert sun overhead, I go all skins from the waist up and let my child nibble on me, sweat on sweat, being careful not to let too much drip all over his face as he suckles.

On those occasions when I spot a fellow nursing mom from across the room, we engage in some friendly competition. We see who draws more folks in to witness live one of life’s most profound spectator sports—cradling our children against our teats to ensure the survival of the human race. I must tell you that it’s quite a crowd-pleaser.

As I run around freely breastfeeding my children everywhere I go, I want your husband to wish his face was stuffed between my bosoms. I want your preschooler to ask you uncomfortable questions about the birds and the bees. I want to show everyone my voluptuous, sexy boobs before they deflate back to their natural, lactate-free state—ultimately, making them even more difficult for gawkers to stop staring at.

While I am at it, would you mind checking out my vagina? I’ll make sure I get a Brazilian wax first so it looks smoother without obstructing your view.

Oh my goodness. Did I just go there? I would never get a Brazilian wax. What was I thinking?

Okay, but seriously, in these modern times, breastfeeding is challenging. We need to lessen the stigma attached to it by having a wet nurse on call. If our society made it a mission to employ wet nurses, no babies in our developed world would ever chug from a bottle again. What mom wouldn’t mind throwing back a few margaritas while someone else nurses her child? This seems to strike a perfect balance between meeting both baby’s and mom’s needs.

Obviously, I am the truest supporter for women who breastfeed.

And in writing this, I hope to ignite a productive conversation on the etiquette of breastfeeding in public. Whether you believe it should be done in solitary confinement or enacted in glorious pageantry, women’s breasts have emerged as a divisive issue and sole cause of much societal tension between mammalians in recent history.

Breastfeeding is truly the gift that keeps on giving. Giving judgment. Giving praise. Giving people the right to advocate. Giving opinions on how to breastfeed differently.

There is no end to the giving.

Sincerely,

A Fellow Breastfeeding Mother

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About Grace Wisser

Mother of two little boys, her blog Wonder Life of Mom deals with the yin and yang of parenthood, and other fun stuff. Her writing has recently appeared on Scary Mommy, BluntMoms.com , and Club Mid. Her satire means no harm to anyone.