|
recent posts
----------
Uncanny X-Man
Cold War / Warm Heart
Who Do You Love?
Mommy Diarist
|
 |
You've got questions, she's got answers. Be among the first to read Elise Mac Adam's new etiquette guide.
Pre-order from:
- Simon & Schuster
- Amazon
- Barnes & Noble
Myself With Udders*
New York City is teeming with subcultures, all of which seem to have their own peculiar economies and specialty stores that flourished long before the Internet made these things universally accessible. No interest is too small or too private and breastfeeding is an activity, an interest, a hobby, a lifestyle that is firmly embraced by the City's obsession with specialty shops.
I can't say I gave much thought to breastfeeding when I was pregnant. I assumed I would try (on bleak days I assumed I would try and fail), but I certainly didn't prepare myself in any way. "Just get yourself a nursing bra," a friend nagged about a week before I went to the hospital "You'll just look silly and feel terrible if you go without one." I had to obey - the only Voice of Reason I can successfully ignore is my mother's. When I got dressed to go home with my son, I knew I was less than bewitching, but at least I was prepared.
Alas, I was mistaken. The following day the milk came in and only then did I realize how far I had fallen from elegance. Nothing over the course of the pregnancy prepared me for this transformation. Even adolescence, when my breasts first announced that they could be a source of physical and emotional discomfort, didn't offer me a hint of how unnerved I would be. There is no handy metaphor to describe the sudden pain and growth that can happen overnight. I will merely say that catching sight of myself in the mirror was breathtaking, but not in the right way.
I didn't need a lactation consultant, but I did need help and I found it, again through a Voice of Reason of one of my sisters-in-law. She mentioned a store, saying: "You should go. It's useful, and it's an entertaining experience." The shop in question is a strange place with extremely limited hours (11 to 5 Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, 1 to 5 on Thursday and Friday) called The Upper Breast Side.
Forgive yourself. I cringed too. This place is actually less a store than an activity center. It is indeed on the Upper WEST Side of Manhattan, and it is run by two women (a mother-daughter team) more enthusiastic about breastfeeding than anyone I have ever encountered. By this I don't mean that they are militant in the style of some La Leche League types. They just love breastfeeding. The older of the women (a grandmother) enjoys proving that, even though it's been many years since she had to, she still wears the nursing bras she sells. This is a little disconcerting.
The place itself is actually not a storefront at all. It is a ground-floor office space in an apartment building. Men are permitted in the outer room and while loitering there, my husband engaged the owner on the subject of breast pumps and lactation consultants. The store deals with a lot of distraught lactating women, believes firmly in the benefits of pumping, and is beyond skeptical of lactation consultants who suggest the pump is evil. One gets the feeling that it would be unwise to get on the wrong side of the Upper Breast Side. Beyond spouses, the front room is filled with breastfeeding books and videos, a couch for breastfeeding classes, breastfeeding-related jewelry, and desks where one makes purchases and where I presume client files are kept. My first task as a new customer was to fill out a questionnaire (which afforded me a wistful reference to my "normal" bra size) that I initially found rather intrusive.
But then, I'm not used to being handled by complete strangers, especially when my breasts are so compromised. Clearly, this discomfort was my fault because I waited until after I gave birth to visit the Upper Breast Side. The other shoppers in the back room were either repeat offenders or in their last weeks of pregnancy. It was far too late for me. I missed the opportunity to use these interesting little silicone disks called "Soothies" you can chill and put in your bra to soothe pained nipples, just as I missed learning how to avoid getting engorged, as I clearly was.
"Why did you buy a nursing bra a size too big?" was the first question posed, after I turned in my completed questionnaire. I had to admit that I ordered it online and guessed how large I was. Out came the tape measure and I stood corrected. In between scoldings, I was instructed in the proper use of breast pads. "Don't worry about anything, just pull that bra off and let the pads fall. I will CATCH THEM!"
She did indeed catch them, and followed up by having me try on a cascade of nursing bras and other things (including a shirt that ostensibly lets one nurse secretly in a crowd from a Swedish company called - wait for it - BOOB). The Voice of Reason, however giddy, was speaking to me again as she handed me undergarments and glasses of water. I left fully stocked, though I have to say, one doesn't leave swinging a bag of purchases feeling elegant as one might with the distinctive violet ones from Bergdorf Goodman or sexy as one does with a bag from Le Corset, or any of New York City's other pretty lingerie shops. The Upper Breast Side's bag with its swoopy purple logo make one feel rather as if one were wearing a sandwich board emblazoned with the word "Lactating."
Still, I'd rather be given away by my shopping bag than by my body, and dignity can always be found elsewhere. If you're in town, feeling game (or desperate) and have some free time during the limited business hours, swing by, and be glad your altered state gives you an entree to on of Manhattan's weird inner worlds.
*This title inspired by my father, with apologies to Carlos Fuentes.
posted by Elise at 8:03 PM
........................................................
said...
I went to the DC version of this--called Diane's Health Boutique. It is a store for women who are nursing and women who have had mastectomies, you have a strange mix of women eyeing each other in the fitting room.
As a result of my visit, I am now the proud owner of two professionally fitted $40 nursing bras that both give me plugged ducts.
--sarachkah
4/07/2005 9:56 AM
Elise said...
That is an incredible drag. I have only been happy with the bras, although I have to say that in spite of everything the elder of the UBS women said, they do not, not, not create a silhouette that resembles that of my fondly remembered underwire days. For that I'll just have to wait.
4/07/2005 11:19 AM
said...
hey elise, i just found this blog and am loving it. you know how it is- i feel like i never have any time to do more than pop on and off IM. i wish i knew about those 'soothies' when i started bfeeding.
-nanyun
4/09/2005 8:07 PM
said...
I am a big fan of the Upper Breast Side. I did not get there till my baby was 3 months old. In those 3 months before my visit to UBS, I bought several ill fitting, poorly made and rather useless nursing bras at stores where the employees knew nothing about the needs of a nursing mother or the mechanics of nursing bras. At the Upper Breast Side there was no guess work, no feeling like I was a freak. I was expertly fit and lovingly guided to the perfect bra for me. The 2 incredible bras that I left the UBS with not only fit well, but felt great, and lasted me for 2 years of nearly everyday wear. They are the best bras I have ever worn in my life and a relative bargain at less than $40 each. I reccomend this store to every pregnant or breastfeeding mom. Yes, it is a rather unusual place, but I left there feeling empowered and important, not marginalized and wierd. I will be forever grateful for how Felina and her mom helped to make my breastfeeding experience more comfortable and easy.
--Adina
8/17/2005 5:39 AM
........................................................
<< Home
........................................................
|
said...
Elise said...