I used to read 50+ books each year. In a bound suede journal which my grandmother gave me, I proudly kept track of the titles I had finished, a running tally of total books read in a year, and a list of books to be devoured still. My New Year’s health resolution was how many books I would strive to read that calendar year.
I initially wrote this post on March 8, 2018 on International Woman’s Day. I highly suggest reading a bit of the history of this day, as chronicled from the United Nations, here. It is a day to protest, march, rally, join together, celebrate, pay tribute, remember, and look forward. On this specific date, I reflected on all of this, on the current political and social climate for women, on the future I hope to shape for my daughter, and if I am doing my part as a woman. Yet, I ended the day reflecting mostly on my breastfeeding journey. Here’s why, and where it led me.
Disclaimer: I feel like I have to apologize for my breastfeeding photo, but then I catch myself, wondering “But, why?” and deciding “Isn’t that part of the point?” Breastfeeding is natural, beautiful, and not sexual. I am woman, hear me roar!