"Bottle Feeding or Shit Tits"

Oh Hai, 

A story about breasts for you today. 

Saturday night was great. It was one of those nights that's supposed to be a glass of wine at your local that turns into an evening of laughs and memories and 'omg's remember when..'s'. So good. Except for one guy. I won't name and shame him because that'd be a low blow so let's just call him, 'Richard'. Shorten that to whatever you like. 

My friend Hazel came up from London and her and I were going to have a girlie drink and a natter. Nice. Then, I invited my guy friend and he had a couple of friends there already, one of them being 'Richard'. So, a group of 5. Me, Hazel, Guy Friend, his Matey and 'Richard'. Got it? Ok. 

(A really old snap of me holding a drink - I think Zoe took this at Fleur's house a million years ago! - because I didn't take any pictures whilst we were out. Also, my 'shit tits' are in this which I thought was appropriate.)

Wine flowed (room temperature rose Echo Falls for us classy ladies thank you) and spirits were high. Chit chat, 'bants' (I hate that word) and story telling. Lovely. Richard seemed friendly. Took an interest in Hazel's love of script writing, asked about Darcy because he too has a little girl from a relationship he is no longer in, joined in with general socialising. Fine. 

Onto the second bottle and the subject of religion crops up. I'm a Christian and happy to talk about that. I'm not happy to try and persuade or force anyone to feel that same way as me though. I'm also not going to 'prove God exists'. I can certainly talk about Him and debate it all but, crazily enough, my powers don't extend to summoning the Good Lord into the village pub on a Saturday night. Hazel, Guy Friend and Matey don't have a faith and were happy to go with the, 'You believe what you like and we'll believe what we like and we're all cool', vibe. Lovely. Richard though, no. He wasn't letting it go easily, not til we all knew he was a, in his words, 'militant Atheist'. A lot of placating from me, 'Look it's fine, I won't change my mind and I'm not trying to change yours' and then eventually a firm topic change from the others and we were back on track with light convo. Phewf. 

The night carried on in good fashion, all sat on stools around a high table and the general hub-bub of pub life carrying on around us. Later in the evening, Matey's wife joined us (loveliest lady ever, Hazel and I decided) and the subject of having babies came up (they aren't there yet). Wife said, 'as long as you help me through the night with bottle feeds!', in a jovial tone. Matey said, 'Nahhh, you'll be breastfeeding!', in a matching tone. 

All of this felt fine. It was their thing. Frankly, I don't care either way how that lady feeds her future babies, she can do whatever feels best to her. I know 'breast is best' and that there is a lot of evidence to support that, but if a lady chooses to bottle feed her baby, I think that's up to her. Basically, I support both. Darcy was breast fed for a week before we had some serious health issues and had a stay in hospital. After that, it was bottles for us. I think I would have liked to have breast fed for longer but nature had other ideas and I was actually quite relieved to now be able to share the load. 

So, back to last night. Wifey and Matey are having a quippy little chat and we're all sort of chuckling along. Then Richard, good old Richard, steps in with an absolute beauty, 'It's bottle feeding or shit tits!!!'. 

I think in his mind, he was doing Wifey a favour and trying to sway Matey to bottles so that he would have to help more in the night. I think he thought he was saying something good or useful. 

Rage bubbled inside me. I erupted. 'DID YOU JUST SAY 'BOTTLE FEEDING OR SHIT TITS'?? ARE MY TITS SHIT RICHARD???', I said that as I grabbed both my boobs and kind of aggressively shook them at him (#WineRegrets). He looked instantly awkward. 'What's wrong with you? Tits aren't there for your personal sexual pleasure! They're for babies!!! NO WONDER YOU'RE SINGLE!', bit (too) harsh past-tipsy-me, bit (too) harsh. Sorry Richard. 

The situation was placated by my guy friend and everyone calmed down and moved on. I apologised to Richard for being so shouty and tried to explain that I'm just really passionate about women's bodies. I'm sure if he had a blog, he'd be writing about me too haha. 

I've thought about it this morning. Should I have semi-yelled at a man I'd only met that night in a pub? Probably not. Do I still feel the same in the cold sobriety of the morning? Yes. Yes I actually bloody do. 

'It's bottle feeding or shit tits'. No. It's bottle feeding or breast feeding. It's feeding. It's loving your baby with all your heart and making choices that are best. If you can, breast feeding is so worth it. It's bonding and nourishing and doing what your body was beautifully and wonderfully designed for. Your body has just grown and delivered an infant and your breasts are (hopefully) full of milk to sustain it. 

(Found this on my FB from 2011. Darcy after a feed, note the bottles and my enormous drink and cereal since feeding meant you were basically trapped for 30 minutes at a time ha. I wish I'd had actual pictures of me breast and bottle feeding.)

If you are unable, for whatever reason, bottle feeding is available. When I bottle fed my tiny Darcy, I felt that bonding sensation. I cradled her in my arms, held the bottle to her lips and watched her drink. I was keeping her alive, watching her grow, cuddling her warm body, it was lovely. I'm sure her Dad felt the same when he fed her, a task we were able and happy to share. 

Feeding, however you do it, is lovely. We're clear on that. 

You know what's not lovely though? Having a man put his sexual preferences ahead of your maternal instinct, your dignity or your self worth and spouting off about it. 

Child birth and everything after is beautiful and worthwhile but also, for many women, quite distressing, upsetting and esteem knocking. Your tummy is wibbly, your vagina/stomach may well be in stitches, you've just gone through crazy pregnancy changes (more hair/less hair, stretch marks, swollen feet, varicose veins, weight gain, spotty skin, the list goes on) and all in all, physically, you're feeling exhausted. 

You need love and reassurance. You want to be told that you're incredible for bringing new life into the world, that you're glowing (yeah it's sweat and grease but a lie here and there doesn't hurt), that your partner has never loved you more, watching you care for that baby. 

You know what, your 'tits' might change. They might be bigger or smaller, they might hang lower, they might not feel as sensitive sexually. They might actually stay the exact same. Ultimately, whatever you do to them, they will still just be your breasts. A part of your body to be loved and cherished. 

They will not be, 'shit'. They just kept a human alive for goodness sake! 

My breasts are not meaty toys for a man to play with. Of course I like a sexual partner to enjoy them in the appropriate moments, but they don't exist for his soul pleasure. They exist for me, for my children. 

I'm disgusted that Richard felt that breast feeding equals 'shit tits' and I'm disgusted that he voiced his opinion so brashly. When I questioned him on it I said, 'Does the Mother of your little girl have shit tits??'. 'She bottle fed', was the reply. Lucky her I guess, lucky the man she once married didn't have the opportunity to make her feel like crap. 

If you are a lady reading who has breast fed or ever does, I salute you. It's hard!! It takes determination and strength and love. I also salute your tits, whatever shape or size or, lolz, 'shitness' they are, I think they're bloody fantastic. 

And, 'Richard', if you're reading this, my tits, despite their brief stint of supplying my baby with milk, are fucking fabulous. 

Toodlepip!

xx

Edit - 12 hours after original post.
Richard has messaged. He, like a lot of us in our lives, made a flippant remark after a few drinks. He fully supports whatever way a woman wants to feed her baby and fully supported his wife in her choices with their child. He's glad this post has sparked support and love for women and their bodies and has apologised for any offence caused.

Personally, I of course still stand by the sentiment and message of this post. However, there are now no bad feelings towards Richard and I'm glad he is with us in our love of bodies, babies and self worth. Richard, apology accepted, you're alright! x

This post is dedicated to my good friend Clare who exclusively breast fed her baby girl, Hope,  for 5 months, with just one breast (the other wasn't playing ball). It was rough but she did it, happily and lovingly. I hope she never meets a 'Richard'. 

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