Hello, It's Me...

The Girl Who Basically Flashed Everyone While Nursing and Happily Continued To Flaunt Herself While Others Bled Out Their Eyes

or

The Nursing Mother Who Angrily Advises Hundreds of Others to Leave Negative Facebook Reviews of Tourist Trap Cider Mill in Nowhereville, NY

or

The Comfortably Happy Mom Nourishing Infant While Browsing Array of Mustards With Family



It might seem strange that it has taken me this long to address what happened back in Thanksgiving 2015. It is clear now that I needed much time and space between the occurrence to gain clarity. To be brief, I was called out at a popular cider mill for discreetly nursing my 5 month old son, who was in a baby carrier, and was asked to cover up. Looking back, I wonder if silently obliging would have been easier, but my clenching jaw and racing heart told me otherwise. I whispered to my husband who shared my discontent and we asked two younger coworkers if we could please speak to the manager. They obliged and out of curiosity asked what was wrong. I told them and they both seemed surprised, one even saying that she was personally offended as she had been a nursing mother herself. The manager sided with the employee who had said I "should really cover up" and we silently paid for our items and haven't been back.

Days passed and I couldn't shake the shaky feeling. I felt distracted while I nursed my baby, distracted while I cared for my 3 year old son. I felt like I had been reprimanded for doing something wrong, even though I hadn't. I  decided to write the owner of the store and let him know what happened and how it made me feel. I mentioned that we were frequent customers and had a good rapport with the employee prior to the possibly well-meaning comment. About that, part of me did wonder from time to time if I had misinterpreted something on my end of the exchange. But it wasn't really a comment nor was it an exchange; it seemed to be more of a command, repeated twice, and it wasn't an exchange because in typical Marissa fashion, I clammed up despite being a passionate advocate for nursing.

Back to this letter, it was sent but not forgotten about. This incident had seemingly cast a shadow over my life, with bits of darkness slipping in and out. I had come to realize that this all had taken something from me. It reached in and snatched a part of me I didn't even know was in there until it's haunting absence. Even today, I can't exactly articulate the feeling that leaves a little less confidence, a little less dignity and a little less hope. It felt that I had lost a small part of myself.

It wasn't until recently that I understood that part wasn't lost, but transformed.

I told my story on a private Facebook group of local moms and a few had asked if they could share it. I was met with 100% support and understanding from everyone, regardless of their thoughts on feeding babies. It didn't become a great debate of nursing public or breastfeeding versus formula feeding, it remained a platform of strong women sharing in each other's joys and struggles of parenthood, a forum to ask questions in a judgement-free zone.

Then I woke up the next morning. My post had been shared hundreds of times. My private messages were climbing, as were my friend requests. Dumbfounded, I scrolled through to see what on earth was happening and while my mind was trying to comprehend the sheer power of social media and it's sudden grasp on my little town story, my phone rang. And rang. And rang. It was the TV station. And the radio station. And the newspaper. I'm in my robe, haven't had my coffee, my three year old throwing tupperware everywhere. Hundreds of people, many of whom were complete strangers, had left negative reviews on the business's Facebook page. These media outlets wanted to know, did I have a comment? I think my resounding comment was "Ummmm."

I reluctantly gave the interviews and remained sheepish throughout. I have always felt uncomfortable in the panic-inducing focus of attention. I had never experienced anything of this magnitude and at times had wished I could delete the whole thing. The post, that day, that decision that led us there as it had many times before. But then would I have to delete that nursing session? Take away one of my baby's feedings because it made people uncomfortable enough to call me out on it? To make me more self-conscious and less mindful of the beauty and calm of a nursing relationship?

Of course not all of the comments were supportive or even very kind. I tried not to read those ones, already feeling incredibly sensitive and vulnerable that this one hour of my life exploded all over everyone's newsfeeds. I remember in the ensuing days posting to my own account, "Is it over yet?"

And then it was.

It would still catch up to me from time to time and nearly knock the wind out of me. Today I am still worried that my reputation will precede me when I walk into businesses or even when I am minding my own business. Do the parents on the playground recognize me? Is my new chiropractor fearful of a negative review? It's a borderline paranoia when people treat me too kindly and I worry it's insincere. Are they treading lightly to not trigger an eruption of exposed nipples and breastmilk and a slew of angry Facebookers? This is the strange new reality hidden in my daily existence.

Nearly a year and a half out, I still feel like placing my hands on my forehead, closing my eyes and shaking my head BUT now I also understand why this happened and why it happened to me. In looking at the positives I know for sure that I fed my hungry baby. I created a dialogue in many communities regarding an important issue, though it need not be an issue at all. It is just a regular, basic thing. Even (and especially) in a culture that deems the sole existence of breasts for sexual pleasure and perpetuating that flawed belief by shaming a nursing mother.

While passionate about the topic, this advocacy still fell onto my lap unexpectedly, unwarranted and unwanted in some ways. But the thing about advocacy is just that: you fight for the thing you know in your heart you shouldn't even have to fight for, no matter what it takes from you. It's giving the gift to the next nursing mom in line, and being incredibly grateful to do so.