Pride of breastfeeding

A certain pride beats beneath my chest,

like a child riding her bike through the fields

I feel a surge of accomplishment.

As the sound of cheering from family/friend or observers spurs the child on, so is the silence of a suckling babe and the swelling of rosy cheeks against my bosom.

It’s not a contentious pride that comes from outsmarting an opponent, nor the sort that comes from defying a bully.

No.

It’s a pride seated in overcoming one’s own fears, of attaining something we desired, but also feared we couldn’t reach.

Like a child playing my keyboard at the school recital, I have no desire to mock others who can’t play, or choose not to play the keyboard, nor those who play a different tune. I am simply lost in the symphony of my artistry.

Please forgive me if I play out of synch or sing a little too loud; I do not mean to cause offense. I am simply excited to have attained my breastfeeding goals.

Happy breastfeeding week!

One placenta – two people.

One bosom – two people.

Initiated by nature – sustained by a triangle (mother, child, and life).