A Celebration of Nah-nees

A newborn baby has only three demands. They are warmth in the arms of its mother, food from her breasts, and security in the knowledge of her presence. Breastfeeding satisfies all three. ~Grantly Dick-Read

I'm nearing the time when I will have to bid adieu to one of my girls, my left breast, a breast that has served me well over the years, never getting in the way, or bouncing up to smack me in the face during my early athletic years; working hard to provide an endless supply of warm, nutritious, perfect portable food and soft comfort to my two children, who never once complained that my breasts were two small, or too anything; remaining dutifully perky, albeit small, after the end of nursing rendered them nearly obsolete, drained, and worn out; and offering balance and equilibrium to my long tall body, that sure would have looked funny with bigger boobs, despite what that guy at my wedding said. I am grateful. And I will miss her.

"Nursing does not diminish the beauty of a woman's breasts; it enhances their charm by making them look lived in and happy." ~Robert A. Heinlein

Herewith some photos of the girls at work:

It is only in the act of nursing that a woman realizes her motherhood in visible and tangible fashion; it is a joy of every moment. ~Honore de Balzac

Here I am with baby Luke on the left, and baby Dominick, below, both just minutes old--first milk, delirium, joy--for both of us. After enduring a late, heart-wrenching miscarriage (at 13 weeks, followed by 6 weeks of bleeding) and before being able to enjoy a healthy pregnancy with Luke, I had to re-establish trust in my body, trust that it would work for me, carry this baby full-term, and not betray me again. The first time I nursed Luke, I reconnected with my strength and trust, and discovered something new there as well: a part of myself that seemed joyfully and inextricably linked to a pulsating collective of female energies that made the world go round. I loved nursing my boys. There was something magical and primal and supremely organic about it that restored my faith in myself and in the natural world. After years of feeling ambivalent about my breasts, I suddenly understood, deeply, their higher purpose. How idiotic civilization is! Why be given a body if you have to keep it shut up in a case like a rare, rare fiddle? ~Katherine Mansfield

And after nursing for a total of six years, I still feel a kinship with other nursing mothers--of all species. When we were in the Galapagos Islands two summers ago, the sound of the sea lion pups suckling on their mama's teats on the beaches was simply awesome. And there's nothing like watching a crew of newborn puppies or kittens rooting about for a free nipple, and the absolute calm that overtakes them when they've latched on and received the first warm rivers of milk.

A baby nursing at a mother's breast...is an undeniable affirmation of our rootedness in nature. ~ David Suzuki.

It's amazing how perfectly we are made for nursing--don't let anyone ever tell you otherwise. It was a real gift that I will treasure forever.

There are three reasons for breast-feeding: the milk is always at the right temperature; it comes in attractive containers; and the cat can't get it. ~Irena Chalmers

My cat taught me a lot about nursing, actually. Kitty, shown here with her little brood at 66 Hoxsey Street in Williamstown, was an undersized, beautiful, stray who found me during my first days of senior year. That spring, she got knocked up, and proceeded to make nests in my roommate's underwear drawer before deciding to have her kittens in a long, deep closet on the back glassed in porch where we had first met that previous fall. Despite her rough street-life beginnings, Kitty was a love, a real affectionate, gentle-hearted girl who gave herself totally to her kittens. Despite the distractions of the wildness that inhabited our backyard and every so often lured her outside to check back in with Chubby's pimp daddy, Kitty always turned around and came running home back to her kittens (this, after we would hold up the kittens for her to hear, their little squeaky meows calling her back). We ended up keeping two of the three (Smokey was adopted by a friend, became Lenin, and lived out a long life), but one of them, Speedy, so dubbed because she was the first out of the closet, was hit by a car in her first year (I don't need to spell out the irony), while her brother, Chubby (we never got around to changing their names--they fit them too perfectly--and Kitty remained Kitty because she was a perennial stray, everybody's cat) thrived--mostly on milk from his mother--and grew to a whopping 18 pounds. Kitty had always been small, only about 7 pounds, and an eye infection left over from her street fighting days weakened her. But she remained a devoted mother, licking Chubby clean while he pumped and suckled from his mother, who was smaller than he was by about ten pounds. At our urging, Kitty finally stopped nursing Chubby--but given the fact that he had no trouble literally bowling her over, she had to be aggressive with him, puffing herself up and hissing at him whenever he asked (a loud resoundant NO), and avoiding him as best she could. As soon as he got over it, she blossomed health-wise, and returned to be a loving mother with him, grooming him and fending off much larger neighborhood cats (he was a real mama's boy). They both lived to be about sixteen years old, and loved each other to the end. No doubt that all that nursing was good for both of them.

One of the best things about nursing is that you can take your breasts with you wherever you go--and so offer food and comfort your baby or toddler anywhere, anytime. Here's Luke nursing at the New England Aquarium--that's Betsy Randolph on the right--and notice the fish swimming by! (Dominick remarked, "Did you really wear those big glasses, Mommy?" Yep, I really did. And you should have seen the ones I wore in seventh grade.) I remember Luke had grown more and more frantic about needing to nurse, and I wondered where I might steal a quiet space in such a busy place--and ended up sitting in one of the window alcoves encircling the giant tank, watching the fish swim by. It was perfect. Betsy stood guard. When we were at the aquarium just a few weeks ago, I asked Luke if he remembered nursing by the tank. He didn't--but he did remember the game we used to play, putting our faces up close to the tank, closing our eyes, and then having someone tell us when to open them, always at the moment when a spectacularly beautiful or scary fish was swimming by, close to the wall.

"My opinion is that anybody offended by breastfeeding is staring too hard." ~David Allen

By the time Dominick was born, I was very comfortable nursing him anywhere, and by then had dispensed with the nursing tops in favor of the more comfortable and workable tank tops that I could easily lift up in a split second, without having to fuss with snaps or hooks. I really didn't care who saw my bare belly, or a flash of nipple. We used to joke that Dominick, who needed to be bounced, with much gusto, before bedtime (and still, to this day, bounces about always), thought for a short while that Jim was nursing him (in addition to bouncing him), because he'd grow so lulled by the bouncing, that he wasn't aware of the hand-off, to me, and so used to root about on Jim's hairy chest, looking for the nipple, but getting only a mouthful of blech instead, would cry and cry and need to be bounced some more. "Breast feeding should not be attempted by fathers with hairy chests, since they can make the baby sneeze and give it wind." ~ Mike Harding

Here we are in New Mexico when Dominick was about eight months old. I think at this time he was the size of most two year olds and nursed constantly. Both boys grew quickly, and nursed constantly. My girls were busy. And sometimes overworked, but happily so. After I came down with a bad bout of pneumonia in December of 2002, my doctor told me to stop nursing Dominick, who was two months shy of three. I knew he was right--but it was agony. Dominick was very gracious about it, telling me that it was "okay" and that he "understood." Of course, the moment he'd get into the tub with me, his eyes would catch sight of his nah-nees and he'd say, "Mommy! Nah-nees!!" And I'd have to hiss a little, but he showed great restraint. But we both grieved--and it was no wonder that a few months later I came down with my second bout that winter, brought on, at least partly, by the sadness I felt at having to end this phase of my life.

I had lots of dreams this past fall about nursing babies. Now I understand why. This is much more final. There will be no more babies, no more nursing. The mastectomy and Tamoxifen will make sure of that. But I did want to send my left breast off with a proper farewell, because throughout all my years of nursing, my girls never let me down. I was amazed at how well suited my girls were for the job, how much they enjoyed it, and how clearly bored they've been in retirement. Thank you, girls.

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast...

~Joyce Kilmer, "Trees"

"A pair of substantial mammary glands have the advantage over the two hemispheres of the most learned professor's brain in the art of compounding a nutritive fluid for infants."
~ Chief Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes (1809-1894)

"Breastfeeding is a gift that lasts a lifetime." ~Author Unknown

Here's Dominick at age three months with his great grandmother, Katie. This photograph was taken just weeks, if not days, before she died. She had held on to see Dominick before she died. We visited a lot in those first months and final weeks. Dominick would sit on her lap and happily gnaw on her fingers, and I think she thought it fairly wonderful.