You might remember a little while ago that I mentioned a feminist mothers discussion group that myself and a very good friend of mine facilitate. And we love it. We meet monthly over a glass of wine, a plate of cheese and crackers, and hopefully a challenging discussion topic. We recruited by advertising through feminist publications and by handing out flyers anywhere we thought feminists might be congregating, like Reclaim the Night Rallies or Le Tigre gigs for instance.
Well, in the interests of this blog and that perpetual query that comes up in my Google search stats (and alright, mostly because one of the group members independently proposed the topic) we finally got around to discussing ‘sex and breastfeeding’. We talked about the stuff that has come up on this blog in relation to erotic breastfeeding – men’s erotic fantasies of breastfeeding, whether breastfeeding was a sensual or sexual sensation, the taboos etc, and as we built up trust in the group there were lots of shrieks of excitement and embarrassment and finally a confession.. one that spread across the group as one woman after another confessed to the same troubling breastfeeding secret.
And our secret is..
When we hear your little baby cry we have an urgent desire to pick your baby up and breastfeed it. We know there’s such a thing as boundaries. We know as feminist mothers that we’re supposed to be supporting you, the mother, and your management of the situation, you do know best, but a newborn baby’s cry rips our hearts out. And basically we all want to shove you aside, rip our bras open and feed that poor wailing baby.
That’s all.
blue milk 
I looked after my brother’s adorable 7 month old baby boy for an hour or so a couple of months back. My younger girls are six years old now, and I stopped breastfeeding them years ago. I still got a let down reflex when I picked the little lad up. Amazing.
My mother told me recently that when I was a baby she had to leave me for a little while with her sister-in-law, who had recently had a baby, and that my aunt breastfed me while my mother was away. I was rather shocked at the story, although I’m not sure why – it’s just milk, after all. But it felt kind of odd, knowing that I’d fed at someone else’s breast. And I always wondered if my aunt felt it was weird, feeding a different baby – but after reading this I imagine not 🙂
It’s precisely true, what you say. The instinct is so strong.
And this isn’t exactly a popular notion but I sort of miss my breasts as a part of me rather than us. They’ve become so much my daughter’s property, a tool for my baby’s nutrition, a connection between me and my child that they feel very separate from my sexual self. Which is good and bad.
As my daughter is slowly weaning, choosing to snack on cereal rather than me, I’m having trouble finding uses for them. They don’t feel, or particularly look, as they once did. As if they were no longer mine. Is that sad?
I was going to post something entirely different, but reading Jasileet’s comment, I am compelled to say I know exactly how she feels. While I’m grateful for my body’s abilities to give birth and provide nourishment — those are two of the most feminine and feminIST things I have every done — and for the emotional power feeding my own child with MY body gave me, I must agree that it doesn’t really feel like my body anymore. I wonder how much of that is about nursing and how much of that is the day-to-day tugging and pulling at our motherly heartstrings that makes our bodies and lives feel less like ours and more like community property of the family’s.
*Nods* Yes!!
I had a similar experience to Deborah. My son gave up the breast when he was 10 months old, and three years later I still had a let-down reflex whenever he or another child hugged me. And I still produced milk. Amazing, and wonderful!
exactly! I was recently concerned with how compelled I was to do just that. It took a lot of restraint to not be completely obnoxious and say about someone else’s baby “just give him to me and watch…” I think it may be partly because I had so little guidance while I was learning to breastfeed Bean and being shown how would have been most helpful. Then again, maybe it would have put me in tears, as most things did at that time 🙂
I ran into a woman from my mother’s group today and her little girl (who is usually the sunniest baby) looks deeply sad. She then mentioned to me that she was weaning her and that she wasn’t happy about it – that she kept crying to be fed and refused to take a bottle.
I wanted to be non-judgmental and supportive, but inside I was feeling so sad for the little one. Hopefully I am not around when she is next crying to be fed or the urge to pick her up myself may be pretty overwhelming.
looked NOT looks… sorry.
oh, i’m so glad to have read this. i thought i was the only freak who suddenly had the urge to play wet-nurse.
just a couple of weeks ago i was holding a 6 week-old and although she had just nursed with her mom, she immediately started rooting around looking for the source of milk-smell and my first instinct was to find a couch, plop down and let her have it. i, of course, did not admit to this at the time.
Im really glad to read other mothers have had this experience.
I miss breastfeeding. I miss having a little one. this post makes me quite sad to feel I’ve come to the end of my reproductive life.
My youngest is 6, it’s 5 years since he decided he’d had enough of me and yet, last week, as I held a friend’s gorgeous baby girl, there it still was, faint but recognisable, the hint of a let down reflex and the ghost of the urge to nurse. It was kind of odd and kind of cool at the same time.
there have been a couple of times when the other baby crying has been so gut wrenching i have almost cried for it.
also nothing makes me more furious than seeing a baby drinking coke from a bottle.
it is sooo great to find a website like this one….I nursed my son for alittle over a year…and now he is 7…and still when I hear a baby cry or even my son..I get phatom let down reflex….it kinda makes me feel sad…I miss a baby at my breast….
I wish women in america knew how breastfeeding could make them feel so strong and energized and powerful…
I have some questions to mothers about breastfeeding if you do not mind
How long are you breastfeeding
What position did you use to nursing
[…] There is something else worth considering about Furry Girl’s criticisms of Young, and that is the way in which she can’t distinguish between mothers and mothering. Yes, Young’s daughter can’t give permission for being included in her mother’s artwork, neither can mine give permission for my writing. But who owns Young’s experience of motherhood? Who own’s mine? Where do Young’s and my experiences of early motherhood and our desire to explore these all-consuming aspects of our lives end, and our children’s ownership of them begin? Can Young, who describes her devotion to her baby daughter so lovingly, not be trusted to know? Does being sexual as women (or even sexually objectified unintentionally) spill dangerously over into our responsibilities as mothers? Does it prevent us from good mothering? Because incidentally, I also attract readers here from time to time looking for something apart from feminist discussion, who are instead seeking ‘sexy breastfeeding’ stories and images. (And what a crushing bore they must find it all, once here). […]
hi i m Adryana Sorina i have 25 years
old and i’m first time momy with a little baby angel girl her name is
Cristina Gwendoline She is 6 months old I’m excited to join this group
and make new friends.
I have some questions to mothers about breastfeeding if you do not mind
How long are you breastfeeding
What position did you use to nursing
[…] There is something else worth considering about Furry Girl’s criticisms of Young, and that is the way in which she can’t distinguish between mothers and mothering. Yes, Young’s daughter can’t give permission for being included in her mother’s artwork, neither can mine give permission for my writing. But who owns Young’s experience of motherhood? Who own’s mine? Where do Young’s and my experiences of early motherhood and our desire to explore these all-consuming aspects of our lives end, and our children’s ownership of them begin? Can Young, who describes her devotion to her baby daughter so lovingly, not be trusted to know? Does being sexual as women (or even sexually objectified unintentionally) spill dangerously over into our responsibilities as mothers? Does it prevent us from good mothering? Because incidentally, I also attract readers here from time to time looking for something apart from feminist discussion, who are instead seeking ‘sexy breastfeeding’ stories and images. (And what a crushing bore they must find it all, once here). […]