The latest from our Heart and Soul

1. Invest in Breastfeeding Clothing

Call me shallow, but with my first, I didn’t really enjoy breastfeeding. Well what I didn’t enjoy was how I looked or felt in my clothes.

• My boobs were lopsided = not a pretty sight even with B’s!
• Always felt disheveled, a mess – hiking up my top about 20 times a day
• Lost too many buttons – My shirts weren’t use to the B’s
• Tunics – Never - 3 meters of fabric rolled up under my chin was simply ridiculous

And last but definitely not least was the ever famous Muffin Top! I could care less if someone saw my boobs, it was that unsightly M Top, my lady junk, that mess of a mid-section that I wanted covered up & fast!

Breastfeeding Clothing saved me for baby #3 and now I shout from the roof tops how wonderful it is that nursing moms can look and feel fabulous!

The Peekaboo nursing line from Israel is a new addition to us here at my Bump. The reviews keep coming in – and it’s fabulous. Yes I’ve taken one for myself! The nursing opening runs straight under the bust line. The raw finish of the fabric blends in smoothly with the rest of the garment that you don’t notice the opening at all! Coupled with the rushing detail all along the sides, you get to hide everything that you want hidden too! They’ve also included a little duck illustration on the underside of the top layer to amuse a nursing baby and help mom remember which side she last nursed from!

Dressing up for the holiday? Yes you can wear a dress and breastfeed!

Boob Design, is a Swedish marvel, and leads the way with their styling, design detail and fabrication. They have something for every nursing mom; whether a basic T-Shirt to a dress, they have a style that fits your lifestyle and helps to make mom feel her best at this very important time in her life.

2. Don’t forget to accessorize

Trying to stay fashionable cost me many a necklace & earrings – though I’ve vain and continued to do so. However now there are some great nursing necklaces that are designed for strong little fingers! Peaz in a Pod is a Canadian made collection that uses non-toxic acrylic beads that are great for teething too! There is a breakaway safety closure that will come undone when pulled on yet you won’t loose any beads. Plus it makes for a great gift for a girlfriend who has just given birth.

3. Get the Right Pump

There are many reasons some women decide to use a breast pump. If you do, just make sure you select the one that is right for you and your needs and lifestyle. Whether an occasional use, or dealing with a premature baby, it is important to look at the various brands before making your purchasing. Many hospitals and now some breastfeeding boutiques will allow you to rent a breast pump, typically of hospital grade, but thereby allowing you to see if using a pump is the option for you. Trust me – my second daughter never took a bottle so that breast pump I bought was a complete waste. There was no date night for us for awhile!

"Your rack is shrinking."

Said my husband, the poet, the other night as I was undressing for bed.

And it’s true.

The Boobs of Doom, we named them early in my pregnancy, when they swelled from a B to a D cup seemingly overnight, when my aureolae grew to the size of demitasse saucers and my nipples became rather aggressively brown and determined to have a look around for themselves. Post partum, as the milk came in, they ballooned to a DD/E. Yes, from a B to an E. That’s 4 cup sizes for those of you playing along at home… We began to affectionately call them The Boobs That Ate New York.

My husband, delighted, felt like he was married to a 1950’s pin up.

I found my new mammarian bounty cumbersome. Although I appreciated that the giant boobs balanced out what had become a seriously generous ass, I couldn’t get used to them. They were in the way. Running to catch the elevator left me gasping in pain. No bra could adequately contain them, and they were inconvenient, leaking milk at inopportune moments. And the nursing pads, and their failures. Classy, that breast pad peeking up out of the top of your shirt, milk leaking out of your no longer protected nipple below. Especially in the grocery store when you’ve finally carved out 15 minutes for yourself away from your adored but exhausting little one, and someone else’s baby starts to cry and oh dear here come the pins and needles and… Gush. Awesome.

I may be the only woman in the history of breasts to rejoice that mine are slowly disappearing. I am so happy, now that The Boy is getting most of his nourishment from solid food, that these unruly milk factories are now tucking themselves sensibly into D cups again. (D cups! What I once would have considered “stripper boobs” are now something I find sensible…)

But here’s the thing:

I have loved breastfeeding. LOVED IT. Far more than I ever could have guessed, back in the unknowing days of my pregnancy, reading all the reasons that breastfeeding is a Good Thing, approaching it as an intellectual concept, wanting to do what was best for my child.

I have loved it so much more than I would have imagined in those early difficult days. (And they are difficult. Don’t let anyone fool you on that count. It is hard, and it does hurt, and you will torture yourself with guilt for wanting to give up, even if you keep going. Gawd, the senseless guilt we new mothers heap on our own heads…)

And here’s why I have loved it so:

I’m an admitted control freak. I like to know what’s coming. I have to have a plan. I have to know how it’s all going to happen, fit together, and turn out in the end. And I've always been this way. My parents tell stories of having to prepare small-child-me for outings by describing, in detail, what was going to happen. Once they didn’t know there would be a dog at a friend’s home we were visiting, and apparently I freaked out to an embarrassing degree.

Being a control freak and a brand new mom simultaneously is… Well, it’s imfuckingpossible, frankly. I felt so out of control. I felt so lost in not-knowing. Things were happening to me and around me without me having any clue what was coming next. For someone like me, this was at times sheer torture.

But I could feed my child.

Even when I was so tired I couldn’t remember my own name, I could feed my child. I held on to that, like an anchor keeping me still in the maelstrom that my life had become.

Yes, there are a million reasons to breastfeed. You can read about them somewhere else. Here’s the one that made the difference for me, and that I don’t see discussed much: breastfeeding gave me a tremendous sense of power.

And not the wrong kind of power – not power over something or someone. Not a power born of ego. At a time when I was plagued with insecurities, buried in guilt, and terrified of Doing It Wrong, watching my baby grow and thrive, knowing that my body was his sole source of nourishment gave me a real sense of quiet competence. I have, my entire life, always defined myself intellectually. As I watched him grow out of the tiny onesies I’d so lovingly bought before he was born, and saw his skinny little newborn legs fill out and develop pudgy rolls, I gradually grew into a sort of awe for my physical self.

Look! Look what my body can do.

The Boy at 3 months


His body takes breast milk I've made and turns it into eyelashes. And fingernails. And teeth! As an atheist, this is the closest to a sense of reverence I have ever been.

The Boy sleeps - 10 months old


Even today, as The Boy reaches 11 months on The Outside, I look at him and rejoice in how healthy and happy a little guy he is.

And I forgive my still alarmingly generous ass, and the way I look in a bathing suit at 11 months post partum, and all the physical imperfections my control freak self used to pick apart in the mirror.

Because look what my body can do.

Now that The Boy has started self-weaning (we're down to 3 or 4 feeds a day), I won’t miss The Boobs That Ate New York.

But I’ll miss what they’ve represented.

It's natural so it must be easy right?

I am a planner by nature, and when I was pregnant with my son in 2006 I planned everything. I was going to breastfeed, it's natural, it's what my boob are for, it will be seamless.  Or so I thought. As it turned out it wasn't easy at all, not at first anyway. After he was born the nurse helped me get him latched on, he played, but was mildly interested. I knew from all my research that he was born he had reserves, he wasn't going to starve. He roomed in with me and we tried to nurse every few hours, sometimes he sucked usually he just got cozy and fell asleep. He started loosing weight, I started getting worried, he was loosing weight and still not really getting anything from my breast.  This is a point when I could have asked for formula but I didn't , not because I am a martyr, because I had support to keep going.

In walked the Lactation Consultant ( click to find one in your area) , these women aren't paid enough, seriously she was a godsend. She showed me positions that my son would stay awake to nurse in, tricks to keep him going and ways to maximize the time he was awake and sucking. She also showed my husband how he could be a part of this all, he could support me and not just watch from the sidelines. This as it turned out was probably the most valuable piece of early support. Involving the non nursing partner. Whoever is your greatest support, involving them in the ins and outs of nursing makes a huge difference.

After we got home I continued to nurse but it was anything but easy, my son's sleepiness continued and we'd have to strip him down to his diaper, tickle his feet and at times even put a cool wash cloth on him simply to keep him awake to eat. I was in the midst of post partum hormones and this made me feel barbaric, but my husband stepped in and reassured me, wiped my tears and cheered me on. Eventually my son started gaining. I was resolute when I was pregnant with my son that's I"d nurse, but at 1, 3 and 5 am when I was fighting him to keep him awake I wouldn't have made it without my husband's support.

Your partner isn't the only place to find support. I know that when my son was nearing a year old and till almost exclusively breastfed I started to hear  " Are you still doing that?" and although my husband trusted my judgment he didn't really get why I wanted to keep going. This is when I sought out support elsewhere, online, and in real life. La Leche League is such a fantastic organization, they are committed to helping nursing moms and contrary to some popular sentiment are there to help not preach or judge. I adored my time there with like minded moms offering support and friendship.  There is a ton of support online as well, LLL forums, Mothering and Kellymom are all fantastic. So if you aren't getting it at home it's available, don't give up.

We may have had a rocky start but the support I got at home, online and from the community made all the difference . My son nursed until he was two and a half proving that a little support goes a long way!

Ever since the goofy movie “Snakes On A Plane” was released, travel writers far and wide have come up with their own variation of the title for a piece they’ve written.  I am no exception.  One of my most popular articles is called Toddler On A Plane, and I was inspired to write it after the 2nd flight we took with our daughter when she was no longer content to be held on a lap.

The inspiration for this particular post comes from Julie Cole from over at the Mabelhood - her hilarious post Have Breasts, Will Travel, caught my eye for obvious reasons and I laughed out loud at the end.

Her story did get me thinking about a number of things.  We flew with our daughter as a lap infant for 3 return flights (and technically she was a toddler for the last 2). I was no longer nursing by the time we traveled with her, so it was easy enough during takeoff and landing to either pop a bottle in her mouth or use her pacifier.

I did nurse the bub on his first flights when we went to Quebec City, but not during takeoff and landing. We were fortunate to have a spare seat on the way out and were able to bring on his car seat. As we were leaving it was time for him to eat, so I nursed as everyone was boarding (thankfully Porter still has family pre-boarding), and he completely passed out and slept in his car seat for the remainder of the flight.

When we were returning home, the flight was full and I could see the look of anxiety on the face of the gentleman sitting next to my husband, who was holding the bub as my daughter and I got settled.  His face wasn’t the only anxious one - with us both having aisle seats, and the ’side’ that the bub needed to feed from would mean that my boob would practically be in his lap.  I thanked Heaven for small mercies - one being that he wasn’t sat next to me so it would actually be in his lap - and two, that the bub actually fell asleep in his father’s arms before takeoff, and remained blissfully so until our seatmate found accommodation more to his liking. I was able to nurse in (relative) privacy until yet again, he passed out for landing.

The reason babies need to be sucking during takeoff and landing is because the Eustachian tubes in their ears are narrower and have more difficulty adjusting to the pressure.  I didn’t see the point in waking him to nurse, as he seemed quite comfortable and figured he’d let me know if he was uncomfortable or in pain.  The difficulty I have, however, is coming to terms with the fact that if baby is nursing or having a bottle, they’re not in the position they should be during takeoff and landing.

I’ve been told on every flight w/a lap infant to be holding the baby in ‘burping’ position, as that is the safest way to position them.  Unless they’re sucking on a pacifier, how are you supposed to feed them while they’re being held that way?  Well, you can’t.  I’m not really sure what I’m trying to get at here, I guess I just wanted to put it out there that before your first flight with baby you will hear until the cows come home that baby needs to be sucking during takeoff and landing, and as soon as you board, the flight attendant will tell you how to hold him or her during that time, and eating’s not possible when you’re being held that way.

The flight attendants were very pleasant, and essentially added that as mother, I know best.  Because he slept, I felt fortunate that I didn’t have to decide to break the rules.  Would I have, had he been awake and in pain? All signs point to yes.