A Social Media Memory

 When I was cleaning out a drawer the other day, I came across this.

This is a pendant I got to commemorate two years of breast-feeding. I believe I got one for one year, and for eighteen months. I wasn't sure when we'd be done, so celebrating 6-month increments was how we did it.

By the time we hit eighteen months or so of nursing with Mal, and he showed no signs of lowing, I got involved in an extended breast-feeding (EBF) group online because I knew we might be in it for the long-haul and that encouragement was pretty important to keep going until he was finished.

I'd kind of put a foot in the door of breast-feeding "activism" earlier, as Mal wanted to nurse pretty much every few minutes, so we ended up doing it everywhere.

The Austin airport.

The Ladybird Wildflower Center. Church. Every restaurant we visited (which wasn't many because Mal cried A LOT and after that, he moved around A LOT). Church. Parks. On a dolphin-watching tour off of Port Aransas.

Again, basically everywhere. And I was fortunate enough not to have anyone ever bat an eye at me about doing this in public, but I know some women get unsolicited "feedback," so I felt it was important to make sure that parents have the right to feed their very small children when and where they want to. 

All of that to say, I hadn't been able to nurse D, and was pretty happy that it was working out with Mal. Even though he wanted a go a lot more frequently that I would have picked. And even though we ended up doing it a lot longer than I would have elected (right at 4 years, though I don't have a pendant for that, because... that's just a long time, folks).

So.

I got a 2-year pendant and thought that was momentous enough to share on Facebook. I received exactly two comments before removing the post. The first was, "Wow! You can get stuff for breast-feeding? Because I did it for 7 years straight between three kids. My husband should have bought me a car." And, "I never got a medal! Where's my medal?"

Meh. I didn't need anyone to be like, "You're a hero!" but an, "Oooh, that's neat!" or even a NOTHING JUST KEEP SCROLLING would have been acceptable. It was my post. People make everything on social media about themselves (me included; one thing I've hopefully improved upon in the past two and a half years) instead of just celebrating with people who are celebrating, and being sad with people who are sad, rather than trying to one-up everyone's situations.

So I took down the post. It hurt my feelings. Rained on my parade, if you will.

If you ever tell me that you started attending Toastmasters and just gave your first public speech, I will high-five you. I won't muse that I don't find it nerve-wracking to talk in front of a bunch of strangers, because who the hell cares? You get your wins, and I get mine, and I'll be happy for yours even if they're wins that aren't challenges to me, or that I don't understand (like running an ultramarathon).

It's like we think we have a responsibility to provide input into everyone's lives, since they post pictures or updates in their social media. You might feel badly for your child because they have a cough, and inevitably, someone will mention apple cider vinegar or some kind of homeopathy, or insist that you do this or that, instead of just well-wishing. If you're having a problem with something, at least one of your friends will explain that you got yourself into your pickle by doing it wrong in the first place. Sure, they'll wish your dog happy birthday, but it's emotionally overwhelming to me to deal with all of the other stuff. 

But I digress...

Basically (Mal's favorite word right now), 1) celebrate each other's victories, will ya? 2) Thank the sweet, sweet baby Jesus we're two good years past what I was afraid would be an entire childhood of nursing. 3) I like talking to people in real life and don't miss social media in the least. I missed it not at all at first, and it just seems less and less appealing as the months tick by.

Oh, was there an election last night? I'm avoiding news about that, too. I'm learning how to protect my emotional well-being; I'm getting pretty good at it. But I won't tell you how to do it for yourself, because I trust that you can make your own choices.