A fellegek felett járt Becky Vieira, amikor 40 évesen végre teherbe esett. Ugyanakkor érzett is a társadalom felől egy nyomást, hogy mindent rendesen csináljon, de rájött, hogy nem kell mással törődnie, azt kell csinálnia, amit jónak gondol.
Így még mindig szoptatja a már 22 hónapos fiát, Archie-t, a kritikák ellenére is, és ezt gyakran illusztrálja is Instagram-oldalán.
Azt mondják az anyáknak, hogy szoptassák a babájukat, de ha már elmúlt egyéves, akkor ne. Én szoptatom a fiamat, mert tudom, hogy az jó neki, de fájdalmas és borzalmas volt először. Kezdetben kellemetlen volt, mintha valaki smirglivel dörzsölné a mellbimbómat és egy ceruzahegyezőbe rakná. De láttam milyen egészséges és hogy nő tőle
This is what I call warrior pose. I could look at this photo and see different things. The toddler who is still breastfeeding. The thighs that never returned to their former glory after his birth. The unmade bed and the laundry that probably won’t be folded. Wet hair that won’t be dried and a slew of other things that will go neglected. But I don’t see that. I see a warrior. I see a mom. I had a day. Not great. Not the worst I’ve had, either. It was what I call a “mom’s day.” My heart swelled and I got my butt kicked. All in the same hour. I wanted to crawl into bed and pout when it was finally over. But why? I wasn’t defeated. I handled the day like a boss. A mom boss. We had tantrums. Defiance. He fed me a rock he pulled out of a plant (I thought it was a Cheerio from his snack cup; luckily I realized before I bit down). I had to use baker’s twine to tie the dishwasher to a cabinet to stop him from opening it. He didn’t nap. Two diaper blowouts. One nipple bite. And he spent an hour on my boob after I got out of the shower. Ugly crying when I pulled him off. So I relented. Because he needed it. I carried him around the house like this. My nipples sting. I kept hoping he’d wean on his own, now I’m stumped on what to do. I’m so tired of nursing yet I love that we still nurse. I’ll save that decision for another day. I had to cancel coffee with my editor. I didn’t think I should be in my underwear with a toddler attached to my breast out in public. After the second diaper blowout he had a bath. We sang and danced, read books. A drastic difference from the squealing, red-faced succubus who I was sure was trying to kill me a few hours early. I made him dinner. We put him to bed, he actually asked to sleep. I bent over (and felt my age in my back) and picked up toys, so many small pieces. Cleaned the kitchen, washed dishes. Finally remembered to eat for the first time today. And I’ll do it all again tomorrow. With a smile on my face and a strength I never knew I had. How was your day? No matter what happened, you survived. You’re a warrior, too. Don’t forget that. #warriormom #aginglikeapresident
A gyerek növekedésével a szoptatás csak fájdalmasabb lett, már fogai vannak Archie-nak, amivel néha meg is harapja az anyját véletlenül. Viszont egyre jobban hozzászokott Vieira, már nem jelent problémát neki.
Sok szempontból könnyebb lett, mert olyan régóta csináljuk, hogy tökéletesítettük. Szoptatás közben tudok csinálni más dolgot, például porszívózni vagy vécézni.
Archie egyébként féléves kora óta eszik is, de a szoptatás megmaradt mellette, általában reggel és még naponta két alkalommal táplálkozik így.
What it really looks like when a mom tries to get ready. You don’t have to breastfeed to relate. This is me. Now. Sums things up pretty quickly. Why aren’t you ready yet? Why are you running late? Why don’t you do your hair or wear makeup as much as you did before kids? And this was actually a GOOD day. I managed to shower. Sure, he destroyed the bathroom and I didn’t have time to shave. But I emerged with a clean face, body and hair. I climbed the mom version of Mt. Everest that day. I’m trying to put on sunscreen. Tinted moisturizer. A quick swipe liner (of my beloved @ctilburymakeup color chameleon liner, seriously, check it out… my momming secret weapon!) I didn’t think I was asking for much! But he needed me. I couldn’t finish getting dressed with the koala action. So I did what I could while I nursed and held him. The bedroom is a mess. There are rolls around my midsection, my body’s postpartum gift to the world. Those aren’t going anywhere, not anytime soon. If ever. My body has changed and I earned it. I’m not ashamed. This isn’t ugly and it’s not sexual, either. It’s motherhood. Someday my house will be clean again. I’ll have time for the things that I don’t right now. But he won’t need me like he does now. I won’t be able to lift and carry him, either. If a mom is late, rushed, frazzled or shows up with dirty hair and clothes there is probably a good reason why. She most likely dealt with a version of this before she left the house. Because as moms, sometimes just leaving her house is the victory itself. Tag someone who needs to see this. What was it like when you last tried to get ready? xx
Sok anya mondott köszönetet Vieirának, hogy nem érzik magukat annyira egyedül és normalizálta a kitolódott szoptatást. De kritizálják is az Instagram-oldalán, ahogy férfiaktól pedig nem várt képeket kap.
Vannak, akik dilisnek hívnak, és férfiak, akik azt mondják szexi és hogy a fiam milyen szerencsés.
De továbbra is folytatni fogja az ilyen képek posztolását, hogy megmutassa a többi anyának, csináljanak mindent úgy, ahogy azt jónak gondolják, és továbbra is kitart a kitolódott szoptatás, a nyilvános helyen való szoptatás mellett.
Voting like a mom. I call this warrior pose: civic edition. I could focus on the things here that send my anxiety soaring. The messy kitchen. The dirty hair. The roll over my waist that doesn’t want to disappear. Instead, I push past that and see a mother kicking a*s. Breastfeeding while voting. My mom always took me with her to vote. I remember I’d get stickers or pencils, and I thought it was so neat to go into the booth and pull back the curtain. She never missed an election and taught us how important it was to vote. Now that I’m a mom I’m trying to do the same. It just looked a little different this year. I did an absentee ballot because… toddler unpredictability. I explained what I was doing. Showed him the ballot. And held him as I began to fill it in. About 46 seconds in he decided to nurse. He slid down me like a koala descending a Eucalyptus tree, stopping at my boobs to latch on. I don’t even have to think anymore; I lifted my knee to support him and kept going. Because that’s what moms do. Everyday is different for me. Yesterday I cried twice. Today I feel strong. Like the warrior I know I am. I voted. While breastfeeding. An amazing thing that only a mom can do. Let’s not forget how strong we are. And to teach our kids the importance of our voices by voting! You’re a warrior too, mama. Don’t forget. Tag you favorite warrior and remind her also!
Kiemelt kép: Instagram