Angry tirade in response to an issue popping up in the news a lot lately:
Do you know what is easy about being a mother? Not much. Is it amazing and truly the most important role I will ever serve in my life? Absolutely. Will I be a mother until the day I die? Yes, in every way.
Was it easy to grow a human inside my uterus and have him kick and punch the you-know-what out of my ribs until 41 weeks? No.
Was it easy to endure 24 hours of labor and then push for 90 minutes until my 9 lb son emerged? No.
Was it easy to run around after my toddler son while enormous child #2 grew and grew until she, also at 9 lbs, entered the world at 41 weeks? No.
Was it easy to recover from both of these births? (I don't need to add the gory details -- most of you reading this are mothers and know what a trauma this is.)
Was it easy to have a child bite, claw, punch, and kick his way to my nipple every 13 seconds for the first 8 weeks of his life? Um, no.
Was it easy to deal with a jealous 2-year old while trying to protect, feed, bathe, and clothe his younger sister? No! Did it drive me to drink? Yes.
Was it easy to time errands around feedings and the fear of the dreaded leaky boob? No.
Yet, somehow, there were days when I was able to drag my sorry un-showered, puked on, milk-filled self out into the world when my kids were babies. And you can be damn sure that when one of them wanted to eat, I parked myself wherever I could to provide their breakfast, lunch, dinner, or snack. And 100% of the time, Mommy was the food source. If I have to expose my 3-year old son to 12 foot tall Victoria Secret models thrusting their breasts forward in his face while walking through the mall, then the world can deal with us mommies feeding our babies WHEREVER we want WHENEVER they need it.
Seriously, world?? We breastfeed our kids!! Always have, always will. It is actually natural and normal -- not words used to describe Heidi Klum's body leering over us as we Christmas shop.