Rambling about breasts

This week, I’m coming to you with some sort of ramble, an entry of things that have brought me joy over the last few weeks, all breast-related of course.

Wrought iron (assumed unintentional) breasts on Milwaukee building

To begin, a dear friend recently messaged me to share about a date she’d been on. She and the guy got on the topic of breastfeeding; she told him about how a mom’s body and baby’s saliva communicate to influence antibodies. 

“He shared [the info] with a friend who said she was going to switch to pumping her six month old because he got teeth,” she told me. “I was like wow, seriously, that is awesome. But then I also told him not to pump-shame!” 

Art positioned at the Henry Miller Memorial Library in Big Sur, Calif.

On another evening, I was at my kids’ grade school function in a circle with four other parents discussing Doomsday. What might it look like? we wondered. What’s the best approach to survival? What kind of supplies might we need? What will happen to currency? Isn’t it true that Hell is already here on Earth for so many? Breastfeeding and my milk were my answer to any distressing moment when I was lactating. Pink eye? Squirt some breastmilk on it. Kid scraped a knee? Breastfeed. Tumultuous bedtime? Breastfeed. And we know that breastfeeding is a lifeline in any true emergency situation. So I added to the Doomsday discussion, suggesting that I might work on relactation, mostly kidding but also reminiscing about how it used to fix all of my problems. One of my peers gasped, “Oh my god! Is that possible?!” I described how relactation could be possible for some. It was decided that this could be our savior in the event of an apocalypse.

El Niño advertisement at the Lincoln Center features breastfeeding Madonna

Then, last weekend, at an extended family gathering, we all oohed and aahed while the darling 10-month old at the table enjoyed his meal. My oldest daughter, 12, asked what her favorite food was when she was around his age. I thought about it, not remembering anything specific except, “The breast!” My kids liked nothing more than nursing. This embarrassed my daughter, but the rest of us had a good chuckle, and it was good to remember a time when my now preteen only wanted to be with me. 

The other sources of joy that I’d like to share with you come from the internet. 

I’ve been moved by and admiring these provoking, stunning pieces of art:

The Lactation Station 

Breastfeeding with Mother 

Workday Madonna with Child 

My Nurse and I 

Milky Way 

The Harvest

The Awakening Series 

Equally entertaining is an Instagram post by Dr. Katrina Mitchell: “​​The world’s most perfect dog toy: a burning bra, ‘Bite the Patriarchy’”.  

Pregnant belly formation at Crystal Caves on Grand Cayman Island

Then there’s Atlas Obscura which I frequent for oddball attractions in my area and across the globe. This week I came across the Mama Kannon Temple, a Buddhist temple in Japan dedicated to breasts. Somehow, this discovery led me to learn about the legend of Difunta Correa in Argentina. I’ve added both to my travel bucket list. 

And finally, I happened upon the Museum of Motherhood in St. Pete, Fla. It has a boob chair. This brings me immense joy, and I hope it’s a bright spot in your life too. 



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