We live in a world of constant motion and stimulus. We have goals, projects, shows to watch, social media feeds to scroll, places to go, and dear god; sometimes, it seems like the list of things we could be doing or should be doing never ends. Like many people, I spent most of my life succumbing to this insatiable rhythm of life. And then I became a mom, and somehow, my world instantly sped up and slowed down at the same time.

Let me explain. Being a mom means that there is more to do: diapers to change, onesies to wash, spit-up to dab. And yet, from the moment my daughter latched onto my breast, I realized that there was another side of motherhood that I hadn’t expected or accounted for — the stillness. Because when a baby is breastfeeding, that’s it. You sit in stillness, and you let that baby breastfeed. But let’s get something out of the way- I’m not some perfect lactating Buddha who just sat in tranquility every time I breastfed my baby. Sure, sometimes I watched Netflix or played on my phone while I nursed. But then again, sometimes I didn’t. And to me, that’s kind of a big deal. 

I don’t know if it was the fact that I knew that my baby would never be this small and contented in my arms again, or if those sweet nursing hormones were just taking me for a relaxing ride. But suddenly, I had found the kind of presence I had spent months in post-yoga Vinyasa seeking. My mind was stilled, body relaxed, as I breathed deeply into every extremity of my being. “How marvelous,” I thought to myself. “That this little being has taught me more about life than decades of scouring for answers has ever come close to.”

Although I weaned my daughter a few months ago, the lessons I learned while breastfeeding are still ever-present in my mind. Breastfeeding taught me that I’m strong, patient, and resilient. But it also taught me that I’m soft, capable, and worthy of just being. Throughout my breastfeeding journey, I learned that it’s okay to take a moment to sit in stillness and silence. That the world wouldn’t stop spinning if I took a step back to watch it turn, instead of letting it twirl me around until I’m dizzy with uncertainty. Today, I often find myself returning that place of stillness, feeling thankful for those lessons in immobilizing my overzealous body, mind, and spirit. And, incredibly, my transcendental teacher was a toddler who never stops moving.

What has breastfeeding taught you?