A little bit jealous

Today I had the joy of going to the hospital to visit some dear friends. They'd just had their first child, a beautiful baby boy. They were so excited to share the details of their labor and delivery. I quietly watched their animated expressions. They were so happy and so in love. It was wonderful!

My husband and I watched them as they tenderly held their little one. He was so tiny, so fragile. He was all wrapped up in a little flannel blanket the hospital had provided and had the tiniest little hat on his head. Peeking out from under that hat was a head full of coal black hair. The window blinds were open and casting the most beautiful light on his face. Every single feature was gorgeous.

And then, the baby began to get fussy. She was a new mother and didn't quite know what to do. She let him fuss and cry looking up at me with an expression of puzzlement in her eyes. I went over to the baby and picked him up. I told her it was probably time for him to eat and asked when she'd last fed him. She told me it had been earlier this morning and now, it was almost 11:30 a.m. I said it was more than likely that he was either in need of a diaper change or ready to eat. I suggested she feed him first and change him later.

All the men in the room decided to leave. It was evident they felt strange about being around a woman who was about to begin breastfeeding. I asked her husband if he'd like me to stay and help her since she didn't have any family or friends with her. He happily agreed as he left the room with the other men.

I went over to her and helped her unsnap her hospital gown revealing her lovely, voluptuous breast. I asked if she knew how to breast feed and she shook her head no. She had only tried what she thought was the right way to do it earlier in the day and didn't have much success. I explained to her it was so important that the baby latch on correctly so he could feed properly and so he wouldn't make her sore. Lifting the baby to her breast, I showed her how to position him properly so he could take hold of her breast. Immediately, the baby latched on and began sucking. My friend looked up at me and had the biggest grin on her face. She was so excited! When I felt she was secure in feeding, I walked back to my chair and sat with her. We didn't talk, I just watched this beautiful mother and son bonding.

I was ashamed of myself as I sat there watching. Tiny, tiny pangs of jealousy overcame me and I don't even know why they did. I'm well past childbearing years. I guess the reason I was feeling a little jealous was due to memories of feeding my own children. Those were such sweet times. Holding one of my children against my body and feeling that gentle pull as sustenance flowed from me into them. It was a time of sheer bliss. As I continued to watch her, I was reminded that my breasts are gone...permanently gone. Sitting in the chair, I said a silent prayer for her, that she would never experience the horrors of breast cancer.

The baby fed for about ten minutes and I went over to show her how to burp him. She was so funny trying to pat him on the back. She barely patted at all and I told her he wouldn't break. She had to pat just a little harder to expel the air from his stomach. He let out a hearty burp as I took him from her and showed her once again. Then I helped him latch onto the other side.

I'd taken my camera with me in hopes of getting some special photos. I knew my friends didn't have anyone to take photos of them and I wanted to do it as a special gift to them. While the feeding continued, I asked permission to take some photos during this special time. Behind my lens, I was amazed at the simplistic beauty that filled the frame. Tears welled in my eyes as I beheld this special moment. After capturing several shots, I put my camera down and went over to help again. I asked if she knew how to change the baby's diaper and she shook her no. I was so glad I was there to show her what to do.

The baby was fed and happy as he drifted off to sleep. Tenderly, I placed him in his bassinet and went over to help my sweet friend fasten her gown. She hadn't been one bit embarrassed to have me help her and I was grateful for the opportunity. As I snapped the last snap, I asked if she'd bought any breast pads for her bra. She looked at me like I was crazy until I explained what they were and then, she said she didn't have any. This poor first time mother! She had so much to learn. I wished I lived closer to her so I could help her when she went  home from the hospital.

It's amazing that God perfectly provides for mothers to feed their babies. It's the most natural thing and yet some consider it obscene if done in public. Artists have painted gorgeous paintings of women with a child at their breast, but I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Some appreciate this side of femininity and some do not.

When I got home, I went through the photos I had taken at the hospital. The all turned out perfectly. When I got to the ones of my friend feeding her little one, all the feelings of jealousy I'd experienced earlier were gone. Here before me was just a sweet, young mother caring for her baby.

I do miss my breasts. I'd be lying if I said I didn't. It's taken a year and a half to get to a point where I can not wear my prostheses and be okay with it. When I go out in public, I wear them. Not because I want to feel feminine but because my clothes don't fit well without them.

Breasts are not merely sexual objects. They are functional. They were created for a purpose and feeding a baby is one of them.

I can't wait to show the photos I took to her husband. I'm hoping he'll like them. I think he will be pleasantly surprised.

Before I left the hospital room, my friend paid me a huge compliment. She told me I was "a wonderful mother" but also "a wonderful friend." She was so thankful to have had me to teach her how to breastfeed her child today. What better way to end a day? And how could anyone be jealous after that?

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