I Breastfeed My Baby Everywhere From Starbucks To My EasyJet Flight - And Don't Give A Damn What People Think

When you have children it’s inevitable that at some point, you’ll find yourself doing things you would never even have dreamt of pre-baby.

Leaving the house in a pair of jeans with some very questionable, baby-related stains on them because you were too tired to change, being one of them.

Breastfeeding on a park bench on a Saturday afternoon while the world and his wife all seem to be walking their dogs, having BBQs or taking leisurely strolls within a foot of you, being another.

I am a breastfeeding mother. And when my daughter, Ava, was born 17 months ago, I was fortunate enough to be able to breastfeed and to actually enjoy it.

But never did I imagine I would be feeding her on a plane, in the Doctor’s waiting room, in every coffee shop within five miles of where we live or, dare I admit it, in front of my Dad.

How we got to this point was unexpected. Our breastfeeding relationship certainly never started this way.

In fact, on our very first family outing three weeks after Ava was born, I felt so self-conscious I had my husband shield us with his coat to avoid prying eyes.

We looked ridiculous. Sat there in Costa, me too concerned whether I’d inadvertently flash a nipple as I got Ava in position; my husband awkwardly trying to stretch his coat around us.

But then the day of Ava’s first vaccinations came round and everything changed.

Leaving the nurses’ office with a howling, inconsolable three-month-old baby who had just been used as a pin cushion, I was bereft.

Looking down at her bright red, terrified face, I knew immediately what I had to do. So I parked myself next to an elderly lady reading a magazine, whipped my boob out and fed my baby.

The crying immediately stopped. Soon all you could hear were Ava’s gulps of relief as she was immediately soothed by a rush of warm milk.

I was surrounded by at least 15 people. But, at that point, I had no idea who was looking. And more importantly, I didn’t care. My baby’s screams had stopped and she was snoring softly in a euphoric milk coma.

So that’s how we continued thereafter. When Ava was hungry, I fed her. And it no longer mattered where I was, as I didn’t give a damn what other people thought.

My new found confidence meant we got out of the house. We went for walks in the park - that park bench was a frequent feeding station for Ava - to coffee shops with other mums, on holiday.

I took her on the train up to London to meet my work friends and fed her in the carriage. Fed her in the restaurant while we chatted. I even fed her on the walk back to the station (honestly, newborn babies are constantly starving) in her baby carrier.

Sure, we used feeding rooms from time to time. Why wouldn’t you? Give me a Mothercare comfy nursing chair, a cold glass of water and a magazine (they really do have it all in there) and I’ll take that over a park bench any day.

But when there weren’t facilities available, we made do with what was. And if that happened to be a seat on an Easyjet flight to Mallorca or a stool in Starbucks, then so be it.

Not having to worry about having someone on hand with a strategically-placed coat or muslin, or trying to keep Ava from tugging at a mamascarf (clever inventions if your baby isn’t the biggest busybody person on the planet), was liberating.

It meant those early days - which can feel very isolating as you grapple with a new baby, no sleep and constant feeds - were eased by my confidence to go places.

It benefitted our relationship too. I relaxed with her. I knew when she needed feeding I’d be able to respond immediately, rather than facing the panic of trying to find a suitable place while she got increasingly more impatient, to do so.

It’s probably also why I breastfed for so long. I’ve lost count of the amount of times I’ve been asked how we’ve kept going or why I never switched to bottles.

And the answer is simple - breastfeeding worked for us. That’s not to say I’m a staunch member of the Breastapo, don’t get me wrong. I believe strongly in a happy mummy and a fed baby and how you get there - breast or bottle - is what is best for you.

I’m just a mum who gave up caring whether someone was going to faint at the very fleeting sight of my boob and fed my baby when she asked.

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