In the church hall, where everyone gathers to chat and grab their coats after service, I was breastfeeding my son discreetly in a corner using a nursing cover. Several young men passed by to say hello to me, only to walk awkwardly the other way, avoiding eye contact, when they realized I was nursing. I found that quite humorous, but found what happened next even more humorous – the 70 year old grandmother who walked over to say hello, and then said, “Why are you covering up?” I told her about the embarrassed young men. “They should get used to it. It’s natural.”

It is. When I traveled to Kenya and Tanzania, women were openly breastfeeding their children during their church services. Rows upon rows of women. It was as natural as listening to a sermon. I lived in England during my first pregnancy, where childbearing is overall much less medicated than it is here in the U.S., breastfeeding is a given, and midwives often visit new mothers at home to see how breastfeeding is going.

Her perspective, the perspective I gained during travel, and my husband’s unwavering support (he happens also to be from Sudan), helped me overcome the very difficult challenge of exclusively breastfeeding my son after he had been given formula during his first week of life in the NICU (a process known as relactation).

My son was a big baby, and in those early weeks I spent hours upon hours with him at the breast so that I could produce enough milk for him, and the rest of my time with my trusty breast pump. I drank fenugreek, ate tons of oatmeal (with chocolate chips), and drank “moghat,” a traditional Egyptian lactation remedy. Within a month he was exclusively breastfed, and I consider this (with God’s help) one of my life’s greatest accomplishments.

Many important considerations also pushed me past those days of frustration and tears and feelings of failure every time I had to give my son a bottle of formula. My husband and I both struggle with our weight, and many of our relatives from Egypt and Sudan suffer from adult-onset diabetes. We wanted our children to have a better start, and so I continually reminded myself of how exclusively breastfed children are less likely to be obese and less likely to develop diabetes. My son was born in the fall, and so breastfeeding him (and washing my hands) was the best way to build his immunity and keep him from getting sick at such a young age during the winter months.

Not only was I finally able to breastfeed exclusively, but I was able to enjoy it. My son’s nursing style was “rester,” which meant that he would nurse for a few minutes, fall asleep, then wake up hungry again a few minutes later … making those nursing sessions last almost an hour. I was able to look forward to nursing by keeping enjoyable reading near where I would breastfeed, watching an episode of a favorite television show online, or catching up with friends by phone.

But, most of all, I loved being able to give my son what no one else could give him – the God-created superfood that no one has been able to replicate.