By Jessica T
The booby burqa - part deuxUploaded: Oct 23, 2013
OK - the truth is, I wouldn't be honest if I didn't update my last post with a story about my own misplaced modesty coming on the heels of penning "The booby burqa and why I won't be wearing one."
A member of my team at work wrote me last week to inquire if he could come and visit the babies.
I replied, "I'd love to see you...Just to set expectations - there's a lot of breastfeeding going on here, and it's tough to be discreet with twins when they are both hungry! As long as you are comfortable, I am."
I didn't hear back from him for days. I wrote back "OK - either you are having a really busy week or I successfully scared you away with my breastfeeding...I still want to see you even if I have to feed these babies bottles in your presence!"
He replied, "I don't have ANY problem with the breastfeeding... come on, I'm Italian! :)"
Even so, I planned to feed the babies before the two male members of my team showed up? Well, that didn't happen. A confluence of events led to the twins being famished five minutes before my team showed up. I was feeding them tandem (one on each breast), and when I heard their car door shut, I promptly kicked them off the breast.
"Are you crazy?" My husband asked. (He knows how strongly I feel about this topic.)
I conceded and fed them one at a time in front of my team. I wasn't embarrassed for myself, but I was embarrassed for them. If I was a man in my mid-twenties, how would I feel about seeing my boss's breasts?! Would it undermine the respect they had for me? Would they live to tell about this fateful day in their professional lives?
WHERE WAS MY OWN HOOTER HIDER NOW?!
The twins managed to scream and feed constantly the entire hour they were over. Maybe they knew I was stressed or perhaps they sensed that these were the people who eventually would take their mom away from them.
My team member sent a few photos after the visit entitled, "It takes an army." All I can see is my cleavage in those shots, and I cringe seeing myself through new eyes as their manager, kissing baby heads and singly focused on these little beings.
How has having babies made you question tenets of your own identity? Have you found yourself shocked and ashamed at your own mixed emotions and changing image of yourself?