Exponent II's Blog, page 245

Guest Post: Spiritual Insights from Breastfeeding

by Kaylee McElroy

Our ordinances are full of beautiful birth and breastfeeding imagery. I know that for a variety of historical and cultural reasons there are a number of people who are uncomfortable seeing a woman nurse her baby. This makes me sad because some of the most powerful symbols I see in our ordinances relate to breastfeeding. We don’t talk about this imagery at church often, perhaps in part because the men (whose voices dominate the doctrinal teaching at church) don’t have first hand experience with it, and perhaps in part because the topic causes embarrassment to some people. The way we view our ordinances is shaped by our experiences. Some women never experience giving birth, and some never experience breastfeeding, but everyone, men and women, can have a deep understanding of our ordinances. Thinking about the act of breastfeeding can add another layer to our comprehension of the sacrament, temple ordinances, and the atonement.

A few years ago I had a dream that gave me some fascinating insights about how breastfeeding relates to our ordinances. Some circumstances of my life that provide context for this dream: I was a Relief Society President who was struggling to figure out how to ‘do’ ward council, I was very stressed out about reviewing all the physics concepts I was expected to teach for my job, I was newly pregnant with my third child, and the Primary President had just had a baby (so babies were very much on my mind). In the dream, it’s ward council and I’m trying to teach the men in the meeting about why it’s so important to support breastfeeding mothers in the ward. Here’s some of what I said in the dream:

Did you know that breastfeeding a baby is a very Christlike thing to do? Not only is the mother feeding the hungry, she does it with her own flesh and blood! What do you think we are going to be doing in the chapel in an hour? Are the symbols of the sacrament so embarrassing that the men need to start covering their faces during the ordinance? How do you handle going through the veil of the temple? In the temple we are endowed with power. Power is work divided by time. Work is measured in units of energy. The calories in food is also a measurement of energy. A person’s body can use the energy of that food over some period of time. When a mother nurses her baby, she is literally enabling her baby to act from the power she gives it. Endowing her baby with power, if you will. You guys need to pay attention in church, because as far as I can tell, it’s the men who nurse the babies in the next life.

 Who knew memorizing physics equations would give insights to temple ceremonies!? One of the things that I particularly love about this dream is how it links motherhood both to the symbols of the sacrament and the process of going through the veil in the temple. In John 6, Jesus feeds the 5,000 and is then followed by Jews who want more food to eat. Jesus tells them “I am the bread of life” (v. 35) and the Jews struggle to understand, asking “How can this man give us his flesh to eat?” (v. 52) I struggled to understand Jesus’ crazy-sounding cannibalistic ideas as well, until I realized that all those Jews ate the flesh of a woman when they were infants. It didn’t sound quite so crazy to me then, when Jesus said “He that eateth my flesh, and drinketh my blood, dwelleth in me, and I in him.” (v. 56) After all, a baby dwells inside the mother and drinks her blood through the umbilical cord.

When we take the sacrament, two things (the bread and your body, or the water and your body) are becoming one, just like we are trying to become one with God. Mothers do the opposite: one body becomes two. First the mother’s blood nourishes the baby through the umbilical cord. Second, the baby eats the mother’s flesh while nursing. Gradually, the mother-baby dyad grows into two independent beings.

This kind of yin yang interdependence of mothers and God is also illustrated by a thought experiment I did with Moses 1:39. The original text reads:

For behold, this is my work and my glory – to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man.

I reversed the words in the second phrase so the verse reads

For behold, this is my work and my glory – to bring to pass the mortality and temporal life of man.

I expected that reversal to indicate Satan’s work, but instead I think it’s a better description of Eve’s work. She brought mortality to humankind by partaking of the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil, and by bearing children she introduced other spirits to a temporal life. Without Eve’s work, God’s work could not be accomplished.

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I ended up teaching this perspective during a first Sunday Relief Society lesson on the atonement, using a diagram similar to the one above. I was nervous about sharing it because it was my personal way of looking at it and because it was a bit different than anything I’d heard before. It wasn’t the center of the lesson, but I feel like it completed it. Throughout the lesson, we discussed imagery of the atonement found in the scriptures. Towards the end, I summarized the types of images we’d seen in a list:

The Atonement:

nourishment
rest
protection
hugs/love

It wasn’t until months later that I realized breastfeeding does all of those things too. Certainly breastfeeding is about nourishing the baby. It can also help the baby sleep, or calm an upset or hurt toddler. Breast milk is able to protect a baby against many diseases and infections. Snuggling a baby close to nurse also promotes bonding and love between the mother and baby. Breastfeeding can feel holy and sacred; it can be a time for the mother and baby to be at one with each other.

The bishop happened to be there for the portion of the lesson that discussed breastfeeding. As soon as I mentioned it, he asked if he should leave. I told him “No. This is important for men to learn too.” Men are often not comfortable with discussions of breastfeeding or birth, but a valuable perspective of our ordinances is lost if we cannot talk about it. So I want to talk about it.  How has giving birth or nursing a baby helped you grow spiritually? Has it changed how you understand church doctrines or ordinances? I have sometimes heard birth and breastfeeding described as ordinances (although not in the “saving ordinance” category), and this idea intrigues me. What insights have you had?

Kaylee only wears sensible shoes (if she has to wear shoes at all) and is passionate about pants with functional pockets (even her Sunday slacks). She has degrees in physics and electrical engineering, but has spent the last few years as a rather alarmingly domesticated mostly-stay-at-home mom.

Guest Post: HOW? TELL US HOW

[image error]by LMA

August 2018

This week, I read a sweet story from Dr. Susan Reynolds about her experience at mass following the news of the grand jury report indicating that at least 1,000 children had been sexually abused by priests in Pennsylvania over a 70-year period.

Dr. Reynolds wrote that the priest conducting the mass addressed the congregation and talked about how religious leaders have disempowered lay people, and that this crisis is pervasive and systemic in nature. At the end of his talk, the priest called upon Catholic lay people to be a part of radical reform to help solve this problem. When he finished, a dad bravely stood up in the congregation of people and plead with the priest, “HOW? TELL US HOW.” The man was sweating and his voice shook as he spoke. He said his son was going to take his first communion soon and wanted to know what he should tell him. It was so lovely and brave and soft that he asked this.

Right now in my faith, I feel like this dad asking and pleading with my own spiritual leaders “HOW? TELL US HOW.”

Over the last six months, as the McKenna Denson story has come to light and is now in litigation, I have spent so much time thinking and crying about how something like this could happen. I have literally cried with a dear friend in the middle of the night at IHOP about this. We have cried for Ms. Denson, and for all women in our Church. I have also been angry and distressed that there has been no real recourse or accountability from our Church about this issue and other important issues that profoundly affect the well-being and safety of people in our faith (e.g., Protect LDS Children Movement, issues with breastfeeding in our Church buildings, extremely elevated LGBTQ+ suicide rates).

When Judge Dale Kimball ruled regarding the claims Ms. Denson had asserted against the Church and Joseph Bishop, we were given more specific information about the Church’s argument that the claims against them be dismissed. In essence, the Church’s lawyers argued that 1. the statute of limitations had passed for the claims, 2. the Church wasn’t accountable for her sexual assault because they did not literally assault her, and 3. the Church could not have committed fraud against Ms. Denson because she knew Joseph Bishop was a unsafe and a predator when he raped her.

For an organization that so often chooses to associate its name and work with Jesus Christ, I found this argument to be disgusting and tragic. How dare they try to avoid legal and spiritual accountability by deferring responsibility to Joseph Bishop or by putting the blame on Ms. Denson and saying they couldn’t have mislead her or done wrong because she knew Joseph Bishop was unsafe and a predator when he raped her? Beyond this tragic and male-centered legal decision, I feel so much sadness for the Church’s active choice to not engage with the profound concerns and pain of its people. People bravely speak up every day and ask the Church for its help, as Ms. Denson has been doing for over thirty years.

These responses are indicative of a systemic problem within our own faith of placing the care, comfort, and needs of men over the care, comfort, and needs of women and other vulnerable populations (e.g., children, LGBTQ+ people). These responses are void of integrity, care, and accountability, and they re-traumatize those who have been harmed by men in our Church who use sexism, patriarchy, and spiritual control as weapons to subjugate others. These responses communicate loudly the Church’s priorities. I could (and do) just cry thinking about how tragic that is.

No matter what faith we belong to, we all deserve spiritual leaders – local and institutional – who protect us, care for our well-being, and provide feedback-driven support and care based on common sense principles of compassion and mental health. Because of this, there are so many questions and concerns that need to be attended to.

When and how will our Church that so often invokes Jesus Christ’s name take accountability or listen or make right like Jesus Christ would? When and how will real changes be made to protect women and other vulnerable populations in the church? When and how will the Church institution acknowledge its role in the maintenance of a patriarchal structure that has and continues to profoundly affect the well-being and safety of women and other vulnerable people?

When we do harm in Heavenly Father’s name or in the name of being holy or good, we traumatize others. I could (and do) just cry for all the ways institutions and people of faith hurt those they are supposed to protect. As a Church, individual lay members need honest, accountable, real answers about what has happened and is happening. In the words of Dr. Reynolds:

“People don’t need finessed press releases. They want to name their betrayal out loud in public, in sacred space, before the tabernacle, before God and one another. They want to be listened to without condescension. They don’t want easy answers. They want contrition.”

People need the space to call out what has been done to them, and to have these wrongs be heard by those who caused this pain and have the ability to make it right. They need to be directly responded to, not with a statement that defers responsibility or is about something else, relayed by an educated, affluent, white, male Church spokesperson. They need a real, complex response that takes accountability and seeks to make tangible change informed by feedback from both professionals and lay members.

It is divine and necessary to speak the truth and to protect in word and action the safety and well-being of others. All of us deserve that safety and care in intimate spaces, especially in faith. No matter what happens, I want to keep asking:

“HOW? TELL US HOW.”

LMA is PhD-holding boss lady that teaches child development to university students. She cares deeply about issues that affect women inside and outside of our Church.

The crippling cost of a ‘one-size-fits-all’ pattern for woman

Today I have a retelling of an old story as a parable.

One fine morning in a small village a woman looked at her children and said, “My daughters, you are growing up fine and well. It is time to take you to the seamstress. Soon it will be time to bind up your hair and put on the dress of a woman.” The girls looked at each other with their eyes aglow, excited at the prospect of being ‘all grown up’.

They skipped merrily along the path with their loose hair blowing in the wind. Mother followed the girls into the shop where they spent an hour exclaiming over the beautiful fabrics. The colors were rich and the prints exciting. Each girl eventually narrowed down her choice of fabric. The seamstress took careful measurements  and said “See you next month for your fitting!”. Their mother pulled them out of the shop and they were on their way.

One girl asked her mother “I didn’t get to see the patterns and make my choice. What kind of dress will it be?” The reply came “Don’t be silly, my girl, from now on it will be the woman pattern. There is no choice.” “Oh” she sighed, but then remembered the beautiful bright fabric she had chosen and set aside her worry.[image error]

The month plodded along, but finally the girls were off for their fitting. The first admired the deep blue of her dress and pulled it over her head. “Wonderful!” exclaimed her mother. “Exquisite!” chimed the shopgirl. “Wow, you really do look all grown up!” her sister praised. The girl turned this way and that and admired her form in the shop mirrors.

Next was her sister’s turn. “How fine you look!” said her mother as she fastened up the red gown. “Really? Doesn’t it seem the collar is a bit high on the right side?” she asked looking in the mirror. “Don’t worry about that!” said the mother. The seamstress chuckled, “Just lean to the left a bit and it will be perfectly fine. “Oh, I see what you mean.” The girl said as she complied.

“And what about this sleeve here on the left? It is a little high.” “That’s okay said her mother, just pull it down and hold on with your fingers so it doesn’t ride up. There you go!” “Okay,” answered the girl as she held the cuff with her clawed hand and leaned to the left.

“Have you noticed the hem is a little high in the front?” she wondered “What am I to do about that?”

“Simply hunch a little forward, that will take care of it.” her mother hinted. The girl complied, though she was getting a little uncomfortable.

The mother thanked the seamstress as she left the shop. To the girls she said “We are off to the market for a few things; won’t it be fun to show off your new gowns?” One daughter beamed with her eyes aglow. The other was almost too busy leaning to the left, holding her sleeve, and hunching forward, to notice that she was starting to feel itchy as well. The fabric, though beautiful, was not nearly as comfortable as she would have hoped. “It itches!” she whispered to her sister. “Mine does too, but see how fine we look. Don’t pay it any mind,” came the response.

Across the market was a family from the next town over. The girl said to her mother “Look! It is a pity one of the daughters is so deformed.” “Yes, it is a pity she has become crippled. But see what a beautiful woman dress she has on!” replied her mother. “Soon you will have one of your own.”

 

What is the cost of pretending? That you aren’t uncomfortable? That you aren’t hurting? That there is only one way to be a woman?

Are you bending yourself into a lesser version of yourself?

Do you over-identify with an archetypal woman and burn yourself out trying to be something that is impossible for a flesh and blood woman? Becoming a martyr without cause?

Do you sacrifice your deepest self on the altar of conformity?

Will you do the same to your daughters? Will you allow them to be taught there is one right way for a woman to be?

Are you wearing a life that doesn’t fit you? There are options! Alter your life, or get a new life. Live a real life that is truly yours. Don’t let the inherited pattern for your life restrict and compromise you into something you don’t recognize.

Utah is the second-most sexist state, researchers say — and women’s internalized sexism appears to play a unique role here

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Oh dear. Again.

https://www.sltrib.com/news/2018/08/2...

Utah is America’s worst state for women’s equality in 2018, study shows

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Oh dear.

https://kutv.com/news/local/utah-is-a...

This experience might be enlightening for those wondering, “Why don’t you just use the Mothers Room?” #LetBabiesEat

[image error]In honor of the launch of Let Babies Eat, I am resharing my experience trying to improve accommodations for nursing mothers in my own local ward.

From Stinky Closet to Mother’s Room: A Quest

Book Review: A Better Way To Teach Kids About Sex

[image error]I’ve read a few “How to teach kids about sex” books in my time. Mostly I’ve read them because I don’t feel like my parents did a very good job in talking with me about sex…. and that’s all I knew. So, in preparation for when my children begin to ask questions, I’ve read a few different books and websites on the topic. Here at the Exponent, we have even reviewed a Church of Jesus Christ of Latter day Saints book about the temple and sex, which none of us were particularly impressed with. So when I saw this offering by Deseret Book, I was curious…. And a bit anxious. Is there a truthful balance for us to teach our daughters about healthy sex, and could it even be inspirational?

 

This book is a resounding YES.

 

I’m not kidding.

 

To be clear, the book does not promise to be perfect for everyone. Rather, it introduces ideas about sexual wholeness, ties sexuality in with the eternal plan of God, and gives suggested ideas and discussions on hard topics such as same-sex attraction, pornography, masturbation, “modesty” and even sexual transgression. It does not contain advice or information for those who are struggling with gender identity, but rather the feelings and thoughts that we all have about sex. It also does not address transsexual beings, those with mixed reproductive organs and/or mixed chromosomes or other less typical variations in sexuality, but it is a good basic book that can create a healthy foundation for discussing these differences in a healthy way as the topic arises.

 

The book is divided into three sections with the focus on sexual wholeness. The sections include: Building a Foundation, which is focused on the idea that we are sexual beings by God’s design, Helping Your Child Understand the Physical Body– which teaches anatomy, and includes diagrams of reproductive organs as well as nude drawing of a biological male and a biological female, and Helping Your Child to Understand Specific Sexual Issues which addresses a variety of different sexual topics.

 

Here are some of my favourite quotes:

 

“There is not a clearly marked path for teaching healthy sexuality, just healthy principles and ideas.”

 

That is just what this book is—sexually healthy ideas and principles. No judgement. No condemnation. It even has sections to help parents deal with teenagers who are sexually experimenting—but the wisdom is not in condemnation, hellfire and brimstone—but rather to help children and teens develop healthy sexual habits and a heathy body image.

 

Teaching children that sexual feelings are wrong, sinful or something to be ashamed about is the exact opposite of what we need to teach and will produce long-term effects that can be devastating.

 

For reals. The focus of the authors of this book is to help us to teach our children that they are sexual beings, and that this is a good gift from God. To do this, they even debunk why so many of the lessons I had as a youth are wrong about chewed gum, handled cupcakes, cookies, chocolate bars are wrong. Very wrong.

 

There is no metaphor with which to compare sex because sex is the metaphor! So instead of asking, “What parts of life may be compared to sex?” we should ask, “How does sex help us better understand other parts of life?”– especially our discipleship and faithful progression as individuals, couples, and parents.

 

No, that was not a typo.

Yes, this book is by LDS authors.

No, I was not expecting such openness.

Yes, this book is published by Deseret Book.

And it is written by a collection of BYU academics.

 

But mostly, the book invited me, as an adult and as a parent, to re-program any of the shameful sexual teachings I had growing up. This is one of the reasons I really loved this book—it helped me to feel good about myself in a sexual sense, rather than re-hashing the false ideologies taught to me as a youth that even having sexual thoughts would make me physically ugly, spiritually deceased, personally unwanted and completely unworthy.

 

If we try to protect our children from absolutely ever sexual thought, feeling, and potential mistake, we hinder their ability to grow and become self-sufficient in their sexual development.

 

 

Self-sufficient in sexual development? The concept floored me. I mean, in many ways I had to be self sufficient because my mother only discussed sex with me once, at bedtime, with the lights off, and if what she was saying was only something to be talked about in scary places late at night. And my husband? He’s still waiting for “the talk.” Any talk! So we *had* to be self-sufficient, and as the book teaches, learning things  that are as important as sex in outside setting can be riddled with misinformation– I know I was naïve regarding many things, and had some very crazy misinformation buzzing around my head as a teen– taught to me by other teens. Thus, the ides of being sexually self-sufficient really appealed to me, and made me want to openly teach this to my children– free from shame, and with the lights on.

 

Same-sex attraction / homosexuality is also discussed in a refreshing, healthy way. In this section, the authors discuss homosexuality in scientific terms, addressing the statistics and reality in regard to homosexuality and the population. They are clear: marriage does not “cure” homosexuality. Fasting and praying does not “cure” homosexuality. Nothing “cures” homosexuality. The authors repeat what we have all been taught about heterosexual marriage as the ideal in Mormon theology, but there is no demonizing of “same sex attraction”. Instead, there is a robust discussion about sexual development in heterosexual and homosexual terms that I found spiritually, mentally and emotionally enlightening. The authors also recommend parents seek out healthy support groups for teens who identify as same-sex attracted so that they can be in a position to continue to teach healthy sexual wholeness can develop without bias, and with love.

 

Parenting from a sexual wholeness perspective helps parents promote growth rather than guilt in teaching children about sex.

 

“Growth rather than guilt”! That is what I want for my daughters! This is a theme and feeling throughout the book: sex is not something evil that we should fear or hide. It is healthy, SPIRITUAL, and a good thing for us to discuss openly with our children through their lives. Even masturbation is discussed, recognizing that self-discovery is an important part of childhood, youth and so on. With this topic, and even the topic of pornography, the authors teach us how to recognize healthy ways in which to react, teach and support children in learning about their divine sexual identity. Shame is not included in any way. Rather, healthy sexual development for our bodies, minds and spirits is the focus with the divine theme that our sexual development is important and beautiful.

 

Possibly my favourite quote is this one:

When we describe a modest home, we are not describing whether the windows are “cover up” and whether the decorations are “revealing.” Instead, we are describing an attitude of reserve and a lack of pretentiousness. The same applies to personal modesty.

 

“Modesty” teachings in the book are addressed in the same way: being modest is equivalent to be being humble; it not sexual, and teaching that is sexually motivated is not productive, and is even harmful. The book warns that the emphasis on females to be “modest” by covering up, or in focusing on the length of their skirts is a way in which to teach poor self-esteem and create poor body-image issues.   It also warns young men to be modest in dress (as in, not flashy or overly expensive/worldly- same for young women), attitude and appearance, and illuminates the concept as one that should be taught to both males and females equally.

 

At the end of the day, it is clear that no book is perfect for teaching sex—it is the parent (or sadly, the teacher) who educates children and youth about sex and sexual attitudes. This book is clearly in line with the teachings of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, but it is NOT grounded in the Mormon cultural teachings I grew up with which were focused on judgement, shame, sexual modesty/rape culture, and anti-gay sentiments. It is a refreshing change that brings a Christlike focus into a healthy, happy and spiritual discussion on sex.

 

I recommend this book as a great launching point for teaching children, and for Church Youth Leaders and teachers who often have the sticky job of addressing chastity, and inadvertently pile on guilt, shame, and unhealthy sexual attitudes (or at least my youth leaders did this.) I found the book to even be healing for those who carry residual sexual shame that may have been lopped upon you in ill-taught, unChristlike, gum-chewing metaphors that teach that sex is bad and unnatural.

 

It is available for purchase for $18.99 through Amazon and is the best introductory LDS-directed sex education book I have ever read.

Breastfeeding My Daughter: A Series of Vignettes

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When I was expecting my first baby, I planned to try breastfeeding, but I wasn’t necessarily committed.

When they placed her on my chest, warm and whimpering, she rooted for my breast. The umbilical cord connecting us had been severed, but she still had a deep biological yearning for my body to succor hers.

*

Our second day in the hospital, the lactation consultant visited. She asked how things were going.

“It hurts,” I said.

She put her finger in my baby’s mouth and observed the click-click of my daughter’s tongue as it broke suction again and again. She examined my breast, and her eyes widened with compassion when she saw my nipple, already a bruised, swollen purple.

“Breastfeeding must be important to you,” she said. “Your baby’s suck is uncoordinated, and you’re already quite injured. Here are some things that might help.”

As she gently walked me through her suggestions, I felt both validated and devastated. Breastfeeding would not come easily for my daughter and me, but I realized that the lactation consultant was right: breastfeeding had unexpectedly become incredibly important to me.

*

Nursing pain was unlike any other pain I’d experienced: toes curled, ten out of ten on the pain scale for the first minute, then down to a six after that. I knew my aversion to formula wasn’t rational, but I couldn’t shake my resolve: I was determined to persevere if I possibly could. And eventually, with the help of a nipple shield, nursing became bearable.

*

My mom stayed for a week to help with the baby. I was completely out of my depth and would have been lost without her. I had not yet resumed wearing garments due to my leaky body, and I expressed concern about adding them back in the mix with nursing. My mom made a comment about how I’d want to wear my nursing bra over my garment top so the marks could be against my skin, and I recoiled at the thought of trying to keep nursing pads in place, managing one more layer, and the rough marks potentially grazing my sore nipples. The nursing garments available at the time looked so bunchy and impractical that I refused to even try them.

When I did put my garments back on a couple weeks later, I followed my gut and wore them over my bra.

*

When I think back on those first hazy months of motherhood, I most remember the nights: my baby in her soft cotton nightgown nursing with abandon, her arm flung over her face, her fingers grasping at my skin.

*

The first time I breastfed in public, my daughter was two or three weeks old and we went to SeaWorld with my visiting family. Every time my daughter needed to eat, I slipped my arms into a roomy, unbuttoned shirt of my husband’s to make sure my back and sides stayed covered, and I put on a nursing cover to make sure my front stayed covered. I was still new to the art of coordinating all of the layers I was wearing (nursing pads, nursing bra, garments, shirt, and sometimes undershirt, not to mention the muslin blankets or nursing cover to keep my chest, stomach, and baby covered), and it was difficult to keep track of which layers got pulled up and which got pulled down, which got stretched out and which got folded over. Add the nipple shield and burp cloths into the mix, and I felt like I needed at least five more hands. We made it through the day, though, and without anxiety attacks. Awkwardness and excessive layers aside, I considered it a win.

*

I had debilitating anxiety after my daughter was born. It took massive amounts of effort to get ready and out the door for church. I wanted to be there because I desperately needed community and social interaction, and every time my baby cried and I had to take her out to feed her during Sacrament Meeting or Relief Society, I felt despair and deep loneliness. My baby took an hour to nurse, so I would I wondered why I had bothered to come when half of my time was spent in a closet. I wished I had the courage to nurse in Sacrament Meeting or Relief Society so that I could get the spiritual nourishment I desperately craved, but I had never seen anyone else nurse in church meetings before, and I was afraid of being judged or of accidentally exposing my breast or of someone hearing my daughter’s soft nursing noises and realizing what I was doing.

*

We were moving across the country. Everything we owned was boxed in a Penske truck, and we were ready to begin our exodus. My husband tried to usher me into the moving van, but I felt a need I couldn’t explain. I carried our five month old back into our empty and sterile apartment, put my back against our living room wall, and slid down to sit on the floor with my baby cradled in my arms. I felt panicky and unsure about this big and scary change, but as my daughter nursed, I felt the panic drain out of me. I listened to her steady suck-swallow-suck-swallow and felt the tension in my body unclench as the pressure of my letdown eased.

*

Shortly before my daughter was born, my bishop prohibited the deacons from passing the sacrament in the foyers, stating that as bishop, he was responsible for safeguarding the sanctity of the sacrament, so it was necessary for him to watch who was partaking. He also placed deacons (and sometimes high priests) at the chapel doors once the sacrament hymn began to prevent anyone from entering during the ordinance and to discourage people from being late.

The women in my ward were livid. During Relief Society one week, the bishop came in and asked for questions or concerns. Several of the women expressed frustration that if they had to take out their crying children during the sacrament, they would not be able to participate in the ordinance at all. They asked if he would rather they stayed in the chapel with their screaming children. The bishop responded that he would watch for women who had to leave during the service and send deacons out after them with the instruction to avoid serving the bread and water to any latecomers or foyer lurkers.

I did see the bishop send the deacons out after a mother with a crying child occasionally, but the sacrament was never served to the women in the mothers’ lounge. I usually tried to time my baby’s feedings so I wouldn’t have to feed her at the beginning of the meeting, but infants are fickle creatures who follow their own whims. Hidden away in the mothers’ lounge listening to the coughs and muffled noises caught on the microphone in the chapel over the speaker system during the sacrament, I remember crying and feeling unseen and in need of the ordinance I could not receive.

*

When my daughter was seven months old, she was injured while we were on vacation. We later found out she fractured her femur, but in the moment, all I knew was a primal need to comfort her in the best way I knew how. We curled up on the couch together, and she calmed and nursed, her hand clutching my shirt. I didn’t want to move her because I was afraid I’d hurt her, so she stayed on the same breast for an hour. I’d had issues with my supply, but in that moment of need, my milk continued to flow like the cruse of oil that failed not.

*

The mothers’ room at my church was small and cramped. There were two soft rocking chairs (one broken) and a folding chair. In our ward filled with young families, there were times when five of us were crammed in there, one awkwardly perched on the hard chair and two others sitting on the floor, legs at awkward angles to keep skirts in place. I felt unspoken pressure to try and remain covered while positioning the nipple shield and latching the baby, but it was often impossible as my baby squirmed and cried impatiently on my lap as I fumbled under the cover. Mothers of toddlers came in routinely to change diapers on the changing table. Once, a poopy diaper was changed two feet from my head while I breastfed in the rocker. Despite the lidded trash can, the room usually smelled of feces.

*

I now have three children and was lucky to be able to nurse them all until shortly after they turned one. Each of them was different: I had supply issues with one daughter, both daughters took 45-75 minutes to complete a feeding, my son only took 10-20 minutes but hated being covered, one daughter was a squirmer, one daughter was easily distracted, one had reflux, some took bottles better than others, one refused all solid foods until eight months of age, one didn’t put on weight after birth because of the nipple shield (so I had to nurse, then pump, then bottle feed until I could wean him (and myself) off of the shield). While I still generally nursed with the aid of a light blanket around other people, by my third baby, I no longer felt the need to keep every inch of my body under wraps at all times, and I generally left my baby uncovered.

My feelings about nursing are complicated, but I’m grateful that I was able to share that experience with my babies. I don’t view reproductive biology as inherently sacred, but that time I spent with my babies was a gift both painful and precious. I look back with compassion on my initial clumsy and anxious breastfeeding, swathed in my husband’s shirt with a nursing cover tied around my neck, trying to adjust to my body’s new capacity.

If I could visit now with my past self, I would embrace her–layers and all–and tell her not to worry so much about how and whether she is seen, but to focus on her body and her baby. I’d tell her nobody has died from glimpsing a breast or protruding folds of midriff or love handle. I’d tell her I know she’s doing the best she can, that I see how overwhelmed and anxious she is, and I’d promise her that it gets better. And then I’d lift the infant from her arms, press my lips against my daughter’s downy head, and relish, for just a moment, the weight of her in my arms again.

If you haven’t already, please visit  Let Babies Eat , fill out the survey, and see what actions you can take to help improve the Latter-day Saint church experience for nursing women.

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Announcing the Launch of “Let Babies Eat” action

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Let Babies Eat was created in response to the growing number of reports about women experiencing breastfeeding discrimination at church.  From their website, “The primary purpose of Let Babies Eat is advocacy to end the discrimination and/or harassment which is sometimes perpetrated against mothers who publicly and openly breastfeed on church property or during church meetings. Let Babies Eat also advocates for improved accommodations in church buildings so that families may better meet the needs of their young children.”

The action advocates for a statement or policy from church leaders which clarifies that nursing women may publicly breastfeed while on church property, in accordance with local law, without additional restrictions.

“With such clarity, parents will be assured of reliable, respectful treatment by local leaders and members, regardless of church location, and will benefit from the consistency of church policy that aligns with local law. Additionally, local leaders and missionaries will be relieved of creating and enforcing inconsistent local policies.”  the site also states.

The action includes suggestions geared toward local leaders, like improving the conditions in Mothers’ rooms, and ensuring that all nursing mothers are offered the sacrament.  Resources for helping new mothers through their postpartum phase are included.

Women, especially, are encouraged to take the survey about breastfeeding experiences at church, and write to the female general auxiliary leaders to share their feelings and hopes. The site also shares stories submitted by parents about their experiences feeding babies at church, and includes answers to frequently asked questions.

The site and its social media platforms will continue to be updated as the action progresses.

You can follow the action on Facebook, Instagram  and Twitter

The Sacrament/Communion, Ordination, and Belonging

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A small cup of grape juice and a bit of bread rest on a wooden table. http://www.summersidechurch.org/commu...

I’ve probably taken the sacrament/communion more than 1500 times in my life. As a practicing Mormon, I took it weekly for years and as part of Community of Christ, I take it monthly. I was taught that the sacrament was about remembering the covenants made at baptism. It is what the sacrament prayers (LDS D&C 20:77, 79, CoC D&C 17:22d, 23b) say: we are willing to take on the name of Jesus, remember him always, and keep his commandments. In return, we get to have the Spirit with us. If I were to ask a room full of Primary children about the meaning of this ritual, they would probably chant back in a chorus that the sacrament is about remembering our baptismal covenants.

I never questioned that meaning. I have always sat in a pew or chairs, listened, and received the bread and water/grape juice. Sometimes it has felt like a special moment, but many times it has felt routine. Sometimes it has felt very difficult to pay attention, as I’ve been distracted by wiggly children who needed help staying quiet.

All that changed few weeks ago. At the end of July, Emily Rose (my pastor) and Robin Linkhart (an apostle) put their hands on my head and at the end of the prayer I was an elder in Community of Christ. I’d been preparing for ordination for months, and had felt a call for years. I was fortunate to share the moment with many women in my Mormon feminist community.

Soon after, I had the opportunity to lead communion by offering one of the prayers. I was told many times in my life that it didn’t matter that women were not able to hold the priesthood, as they were able to receive the blessings of participating in church ordinances. I was suspicious of those responses and had long suspected that conducting ordinances and participating in them were different experiences than simply receiving them. After all, Church leaders giving those answers had never been denied the priesthood or opportunities to serve in a ritual capacity, or told that they could not help prepare the bread and water. It is frustrating to hear that your exclusion is both important and meaningless.

On that first occasion of giving the prayer and passing the tray, I experienced unexpected things. Instead of remembering baptismal covenants, I felt overwhelmed with feelings of loving belonging. In that moment, I knew that I belonged in my Mormon feminist and Community of Christ communities doing this work. I felt God’s love and that same sense of belonging for the women and girls I was serving, including believers, non-believers, and those who were unsure of their belief, who did not always feel acceptance and belonging in LDS spaces. I felt the strength of that connection to God and community and that feeling never really left me. It is my most solidly joyful memory of this whole year, even eclipsing the strong feelings of love and connection I felt at ordination.

Communion marked this belonging, this outpouring of God’s love and a sense of belonging without conditions, questions about worthiness, or judgment. We just belonged and God was present in that loving belonging.

The sacrament/communion recalls Jesus’ Last Supper, where he sat with his disciples, including Judas, and asked them to remember him. A misfit group of men (and perhaps the women were left out of the record) from different professions, with different characters and reputations, who rarely seemed to understand the magnitude of Jesus’ message, one of whom would betray Jesus, breaking bread and drinking wine together. Jesus claimed them all, a powerful example of loving belonging.