by Becky Vieira posted in Parenting

To the nurses in the delivery room: it began with you. You were confident and skilled when I wasn?t. I'd only been a mother for a few minutes when you expertly helped my son latch before I even knew what was happening. My first instinct was to cover up, but it was as if your eyes were immune to the sight of my nipples. Before I knew it, a small human was nursing on my breast. And my breastfeeding journey officially began.
Later that evening, my dinner was delivered while my hospital gown was around my waist. I quickly turned, trying in vain to use my son as a shield. Unfortunately his tiny head was no match for my engorged breast. You, the woman who brought me my food, kept your eyes above my head. It was awkward for us both. A few days later I was home, an exhausted new mom with cracked nipples and an angry rash. I decided to sit outside for some sun therapy. With my nursing nightgown pulled down I began feeling the first waves of relief in days. Until I heard the gate unlatch. I looked up and we were staring eye-to-eye, though I think I saw yours dart south briefly in utter shock and embarrassment. My poor gardener. Probably not what you expected when you went to work that day.
I retreated after that for many reasons. Exhaustion, postpartum depression and simply learning how to be a mom. I hid in the backseat of my car and draped a blanket over the window. It didn't help, a couple peeked in and saw me. The next time we ventured out ...