When I was somewhere between the ages of four and five my mom got kicked out of a bakery in Cannon Beach for breast feeding my sister. I have always considered this a great offense. When I think about it I am still appalled they were asked to leave for doing something so natural. It's not like it was overly public. My mom can be very discrete and sneaky when she wants to be, and while I've learned my lessons in modesty, or lack there of, from her I can say with confidence she chose to use discretion at that particular time.
I bring this up because this morning over coffee at my favorite coffee shop (seriously my love for this place and its coffee is bordering on obsession) I looked up to find a mother breast feeding her child. This elicited several emotions:
Shock. I think this is the first time inside a business I've seen this occur.
Embarrassment. Every time I looked up from my computer she was directly in my line of sight and while she's doing this in public it is still a very private thing.
Awe. The comfortability this requires with one's self is impressive.
Love. What a beautiful thing for a mother and child to share.
I am amazed every time I think about birth and children and the ways our bodies are designed to not only produce and grow, but to nourish them. How amazing! Then I start thinking about the fact that my children are already living inside of me, they already, even if very miniscule in size, exist. I can only think about it for a little while before my mind starts to go crazy. I start thinking of myself as a baby factory or something crazy like that. I was created to do more than just produce children, but what an honor to have that be one of the things innate to who I am.
What a gift. What a big decision. Do I, do we, want to consciously choose to bring a new life into this world? I am, of course, no where near being able to make this decision. I mean there are less traditional ways to have children, and it is not a choice to take lightly. But it's not the time. There are other things that need to be produced, nurtured and given time to grow, blossom and bloom before kids enter the picture, become part of my life. And for now those ideas, those dreams are what I hold close, care for, what I nurture and grow.