Why, Yes, I AM Still Nursing My 15 Month Old

The “looks” have started. 

I suppose it was going to happen eventually; in fact, we’re probably lucky it has taken this long to start. Zac is pretty small for his age, so most people probably just assume he’s younger than almost 16 months old.

But the “looks” have started, nonetheless.

What “look” am I talking about?

Well, there are slight variations of the “look”, but they’re all basically the same. For example, I’m nursing Zac in public, and I might get:

– The “ohmygoodness WHAT is she doing still nursing him at that age! That’s disgusting! He’s going to be warped for life!” look.

– Or the lip curled, sneering “oh, she’s one of those  Moms. Super granola-crunchy. Probably doesn’t wear deodorant. I bet she doesn’t discipline her children, either. She probably insists they call her by her first name.” look.

– Or the “Oh, dear! In MY day, we had the common decency to keep our breasts where they belong – in our shirts! We gave our children bottles and that was good enough for them. Uppity women these days, thinking they know better than their mothers. How vulgar!” look.

Whatever variation on the theme I get, they’re all just looks of judgement.

Wanna know what look I want to give them in return?

Well, there’s not a nice way to describe that look. I’ll leave it up to your imagination.

It isn’t a pretty look.

I don’t do that, though.

Instead, I just smile, kiss Zac on his cute little (still semi-)bald head, and ignore them.

After all, what business is it of anyone’s whether I’m still nursing my child at almost 16 months of age? More importantly, who’s got time to deal with nasty, judgmental people? Not me! (Ain’t nobody got time for that!)

So, I just ignore the “looks”.

Unless they push it.

Sadly, that has already happened. So when Ms. Judgy McJudgerstein goes beyond shooting me dirty looks and ventures into “verbally questioning a stranger about her parenting practices” territory, I tell a story. A story befitting the “look” she just gave me.

A story of FPIES, and how my breast milk is the only thing keeping my son alive. How I’ve limited my diet for over a year to ten items in order to keep that breast milk safe for him. I go into graphic  detail about the results of an FPIES reaction. Nothing is left to the imagination. Vomiting. Bloody diarrhea. Shock.

Hey, it’s the LEAST I can do, right?

Little Ms. Judgy McJudgerstein really should  hear all about my precious sons acidic, open wound diaper rashes after giving me “the look” and having the nerve to begin a verbal smack-down, don’t you think?

<wicked grin>

Don’t worry; I have some tact. Most folks are just genuinely friendly and curious. They get the ‘spreading awareness’ story; just sharing about the existence of FPIES and broad strokes about details, omitting the really graphic parts.

I really do reserve the “story” for the nasty, judgmental people (sadly, usually women) who visibly stiffen in self-righteousness.

Now, I could simply tell Ms. Judgy that she needs to mind her own business because it’s not her concern, but where’s the fun in that? What better way to convey a line crossing than by pointing out just how FAR the line has been crossed?

Besides, why bother? It’s all been said before and she surely has heard the common wisdom: we should not judge others’ parenting choices.

And still she gives the “look”. 

Mama’s like me still get judged.

I just thought I’d share what that “look” will get you if you’re rude and nasty enough to use it on me.

Either I ignore you, or I shove your foot so far down your throat it touches the ground again with our story of FPIES.

Ms. Judgy McJudgerstein? Consider yourself warned.

__________

Truly, I don’t intend to start a big pro or con breastfeeding debate, but I’m curious: what is the deal with America’s squeamishness about breastfeeding? Where on earth does that come from? And why in Heaven’s name do people feel they have the right to tell a perfect stranger how she’s doing this whole ‘parenting thing’ wrong?