Disclaimer: This website is about a Christian mom, who attempts to be humorous and witty about her life and faith. As in, you have just liked a mommy blog. Be sure to tell all your friends.
"The Lactating Catholic" was just a catchy way (to me) of saying I'm a mom, who's Catholic, who is nursing (i.e. has a baby/toddler), has a sense of humor, is pro-breastfeeding, and likes the initials "TLC." That's all, folks. I am most certainly a Mom gone mild. Any sense of offense at the perceived outrageousness of this title--and especially any vulgarity being read into it--is absolutely not intentional. And shame on both camps, really.
"The Lactating Catholic" is by no means meant as a titillating euphemism. If you have some unhealthy curiosities looking for entertainment, you will likely find the bible to be more interesting. Employing ploddingly appropriate reserve, I will BORE YOU TO DEATH. Really. Maybe you'll laugh a little as you die, but you will die of the sheer lack of the skankiness you seek. I can get positively prudish if I need to be.
Actually, that's a bit how I looked as a teen, though I did show my face (with continuously downcast and averted eyes). Let's just say I was raised with the sensibilities of a cloistered religious and leave it at that for now...
Perhaps the best defense of this blog's title? It is a small attempt, (perhaps misguided, but definitely sincere) to "restore all things in Christ," (Instaurare Omnia in Christo), the motto of my alma mater.
God made us moms with the "superpower" of making food for babies. That is the primary function of a breast. This should be recognized and respected as such.
Some have argued that breastfeeding in public is immodest. And that is stupid. A woman attempting to feed her child milk is not "intending to display the body as an object of observing."
Most women are awkwardly trying to be good moms and manage nursing covers, doing something with two hands that it takes eight hands and a couple automatic buttons to do properly. Kindly avert your eyes and give them a break. Outside of this blog there is much lactation.
My first nursing experiences were fraught with similar perils. Having tried a full cover-up cape without success and with great and present fear of suffocating the life I was attempting to sustain, I graduated to a "Priv-a-See" that allowed mom to see baby (thanks Anita!) which worked fantastically other than the fact that it was white with red teddy bears, which was probably a bit more eye-catching than was intended, though not as distracting as other covers, which are intending to attract attention... :S
I was the first person on my side of the family to breastfeed (meaning, yes, I am a product of formula from aluminum cans). My radical nutritional decision was supported by my being sent to closed rooms to nurse during, say, Christmas parties and plain old dinners. At one family gathering, after escorting me and baby with our shameful nourishment intentions to a far off, locked bedroom, I was offered me a blanket to cover up with. Recap: alone, in far away, locked room, with nursing blanket cover up.
Perhaps you see how I was inspired with this title.
I thought up the name of this blog (with zero courage / intention of using at the time) about a year ago, when a college friend of mine hosted a discussion during National Breastfeeding Week (which it seems was last week... I need to get out from under the rock I seem to be under). She made the following statement:
"For World Breastfeeding Week, I thought I would post some pictures of classic paintings and sculpture of the nursing mother and child, something that used to be a very common theme. Just trying to do my little part in disassociating the breast with things perverse and manipulative and associating it again with babies and beautiful domestic scenes of vulnerability and love." And she then posted examples of classic art, several of which included Mary and baby Jesus.
|The Madonna of the Green Cushion By Andrea Solario (1460–1524)|
While flipping through stations a couple weeks ago, I heard: "Listening to 'I Heart Radio' is like fitting into your skinny jeans and having that cute guy check out your butt." Um, no, it's not. That's ridiculous. And if that's true, ewww... c'mon. People, we are so much more than our lusts.
This particular fetish involving lactation does a disservice to baby and mom alike, so I'm really a'gin it. No, I've never attended a "nurse in." But I get it.
Nursing is for babies. It can be done discretely, sure; I think that's laudable. But attempts to shame women out of nursing (and babies do, indeed, at times need to eat in public) gets me mad. And I'm unpleasant when I'm mad, so this should be avoided at all costs... there's an argument right there. In sum, if you are still creeped out: google "mammal," get to know yourself, and move on. Fearfully and wonderfully made...
Back to liking my page, "All are welcome" at the moment, until something really bugs me. Then I will start a lengthy application process in order for you to like me. (How's that for reverse psychology, eh?) You will only wish you could like me. :)
"Blessed is the womb that bore you and the breasts that nursed you." Luke 11:27