Tag: motherhood

Yes, breasts are sexual

It’s summer. In Texas. It’s hot.

Not surprisingly, conditions 1 and 3 annually coincide with a flood of social media chatter about how women ought to keep their “parts” covered out of concern for men’s struggle with lust…Which reminds me of a provocatively titled post that Marc Barnes over at Bad Catholic replied to about three years ago. Go read his response — it’s full of great points.

I got caught up in the comment thread when one man claimed that “Guys like boobs, instinctually. I think a mother could realize drawing out her breasts for ANY reason will make guys all hot and bothered…,” and another responded, “Breasts are not ALWAYS sexual to a man — at least they should not be, if he is being chaste as defined by the Catechism.”

At the time I responded anonymously:

As a woman and a mother, I’m really grateful to see/read guys defending public breastfeeding as a chaste action 🙂 But I do have a recommendation, and that is to not balk at the idea of breasts always being “sexual.” They are. Accepting that is one step closer to rightly integrating one’s sexuality.

I’m going to make my case short and sweet:

“Sexuality” is the quality of being either male or female.

Women have breasts that are able to nourish a child. Men don’t. Breastfeeding is, therefore, an inherently “sexual” capability. In other words, it differentiates one sex from another.

The essential difference between the sexes points to our complementarity, and our complementarity points to the fact that we are called to sexual unity. This is the logic built into our sexual — male and female — bodies.

So yes, it’s perfectly “natural” that that which differentiates us helps to attract one sex to the other. It’s perfectly “natural” that there would be an element of awe, an element of attractive beauty attached to what is “other” or outside of our own experience of life. “I’m made for you. You’re made for me. We see this in our bodies. We belong together.”

But that logic of complementarity, in the mystery of its imago dei, does not simply feed one into the other, as if it were a matter of filling a mutual void. No, the logic of complementarity that we read in our bodies necessarily pours outward in new fruitfulness, increasing wonder upon wonder.

Thus, when men (or women) make the argument that mothers ought to cover up when breastfeeding “because their breasts are sexual,” my heart aches for the vision they lack.

By reducing “sexual” to “that-which-arouses-me,” they have reduced complementarity to an exchange of self-serving use, and have severed its fruitfulness. In saying the “erotic” value of the breasts trumps the nurturing, self-donative value, they have shown their ignorance of the meaning of “sexual” in the first place, and in doing so have shown their poverty. And those who insist upon this poverty, as if it is “just how God designed men,” are missing out — not just on the full beauty of the sexuality of women, but in the dignity of the sexuality of men.

That child breastfeeding is the crown of our sexual complementarity — a gift that completes the sexual logic of our bodies and showcases it in all its glory. That child is a reminder to a man that a woman is his equal in dignity, not his object of pleasure or his toy. That child reminds man that together he and she have poured their lives out to one another for neither simply his sake nor hers, but for that of another.

A man who is truly attracted to the full sexuality of a woman should see in the act of breastfeeding the epitome of her sexuality — and his response should be awe, gratitude, and respect. It should be the same awe and gratitude with which a father watches his wife gently tend to any of their child’s other needs with the special grace bestowed upon her.

It should never be a jealous, “I wish I were in the child’s place,” nor an uneasy battle with an interior desire to “have” or “own” her, nor disapproval or disgust. The latter, sadly, are too often the reality for those who make the argument that women ought hide themselves away while breastfeeding. They are the mark of a man who wants to keep woman for himself.

Yes. Breastfeeding is sexual. It is something only she can do. And we should thank her for it, as it is a reminder that we all exist for the good of the other.

Motherhood and Self-Care

I have read it and heard it a hundred times.  When you become a mom, it’s important to take care of yourself, your marriage, your prayer life, etc.  Make time for prayer, make time for date nights, make time for friends, for fun, for alone time, on and on and on.  It’s safe to say that when I thought about my new life as a mother, I wasn’t really worried about this.  While I am by no means perfect at it, I have prided myself on self-awareness and my ability to draw boundaries as needed to avoid burnout.

What you won’t be surprised to hear is that this is so much harder than I expected.  But what may surprise you is that most days I do not feel like I’m burning out.  Honestly, I don’t understand it.  Before becoming pregnant one of my primary struggles was taking time for prayer.   I tried everyday to take that time and when I did I saw the difference that it made.  Once pregnant, a lot changed.  I found myself so sick that the thing I struggled to do the most was eat something.  My exhaustion made my nausea worse, so sleep become the other priority.  If I didn’t sleep, then I had less ability to work.  My prayer became offering my suffering for my daughter and my family.  I actually had a great deal of peace about this.  Even after my daughter was born, in the confessional priests have told me to be easy on myself – my life is radically different.

What I’m experiencing now is something I could not have expected.  I always thought that I would absolutely need my morning prayer time to avoid burning out.  But I’m still going.  I thought I would need date nights in order to fuel my marriage and I thought the hardest thing about going out would be entrusting my daughter to a babysitter.  But I’m finding that this is not the case.

Yes, especially working outside the home full time, I miss my daughter when I’m not with her.  I like being with her on weekends, so I can’t say I’m anxious to drop her off with grandma.  But there are other things that are hard about leaving her.  Breastfeeding is important to me, so before going out I have to express breast milk.  I hate pumping, I really do.  I find it tedious and even a bit stressful.  My daughter also doesn’t sleep well, so routine is important and affects her future sleep.  So knowing she might not sleep as well without me (and therefore I won’t sleep as well later) is stressful, too.  It’s not just about attachment.

I love spending time with my husband, as well.  I love that we get to have dinner together every night after K goes to bed.  We eat and then talk until I’m too exhausted to keep my eyes open.  I even get annoyed when I realize my nails need to be trimmed…again.  Yet another thing to do!  My husband is extraordinarily gracious.  Most days I seem to have no time except to go to work and care for our daughter.  The only chore I still manage is laundry.  While I’m caring for K, my husband is caring for me and our home.  I almost never make dinner and only sometimes do dishes.  He’s managing, almost on his own, all kinds of projects around the house that used to be my projects.

Each day when I get home from work, K and I go out for a walk, so this is my primary reflection time. I realized how content I was with everything, but felt some outside pressure that I should be doing more, more prayer time, more date nights, do more to make what is most important a tangible priority.  After all, someday K will leave the house and what will be left if I do not invest in my relationship with God and my husband?  Not only does it make me sad to think about my little one leaving, I felt these thoughts robbing me of my contentedness.  I later asked my husband about this: was he as content as I, or was I being neglectful?  He affirmed that he was happy, too.  He knows this season in life is short and he is content with how things are today.

This isn’t to say that I don’t have to work on keeping God and my husband as my priorities. I’m still looking for good ways to have daily prayer and date nights are still important. But, I’m not going to chide myself in the meantime for being happy with the way things are. Life is too full of challenges and failures to add to it harsh self-criticism.  And K will only be 8 months old for so long.  I’d rather, and I think God would prefer it, too, if I soak up all the blessings he has bestowed on me, trusting my self-care to him.  I think he can do a better job of it, anyway.

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