Boob Slang

Hello Beloved Boobjuicers and Friends!

I finished up my course and now am officially qualified as a Peer Counselor for the Oregon Nursing Mothers' Counsel. YAY! Then I promptly dove into crunch season at work and took a trip to Minnesota, coming home with a cold and zero energy. But I am on the mend and back to chat with you lovely people once again.

One thing on my mind is boobs. Yes, I know, I always have boobs on my mind. But specifically, this somewhat childish word to refer to breasts. Clearly not all lactivists are in to the idea of being flip about breastfeeding, breasts, etc. In fact I'm pretty sure at least one woman in my peer counseling class was downright grossed out by the title of my blog. This made me ponder. Am I chasing women away who would like the information my fellow boobjuicers and I have to share? Should I change my approach?

When I was pregnant with Robert, I found the insipid tone of a lot of resources aimed at the first-time pregnant mama absolutely infuriating. Hormones or no, I did not just regress three decades and I did not want to be patronized. I imagine the elderly feel like this a lot - just because I need help carrying this box up the stairs does not mean I suddenly became stupid or infantile. After giving birth, the tone changed - to a sort of gentle, over-reverent, over-feminine whisper, with terms like "at the breast" and cautious glances. Oh please. I was exhausted and in pain and wanted someone to give me some straight up information and help without making assumptions about what a rapturous mood I must be in all the time. I found it very difficult, at times, to sort through all this lavender flowery haze to get at the real information, which I very much needed, from these sources.

Hence boobjuice. The tone is about how I feel about breastfeeding. It is wonderful, it did become rapturous at times, but let's face it, it's also just a practical every day thing and I don't want to have to talk about it like some holy event all the time. Sometimes I just want to feed my kid and get some work done. Sticking my tongue out at all the overly-reverent parenting resources, admonishing me for involuntarily screaming the first time Robert chomped down on my nipple (I'm sorry but that freaking hurt) was one way that I was able to keep going despite being pissed off.

My sense of humor, offputting though it may be to some, has gotten me through depression, my father's cancer and passing, and a lot of other crap without letting these things stop me in my tracks. Lots of people don't get it or won't like it. (After Dad died, the poor med resident who came with the doc to verify that Dad was dead [apparently the nurse who held one of his hands while he passed is not considered qualified to do that] was shocked that Mom and I were cracking jokes.) But I think there are probably a lot of other women who find it refreshing. Or if not, maybe they can say, "well, I'm not as weird as her yet, so I must be okay." And for the others, there are TONS of wonderful resources in that lavender flowered whispering tone that might be more palatable. God bless 'em.

So if you're still reading you're probably not offended, and I hope I will be of some use to you!

Happy boobjuicing!

Much love,
Suzi