The phone was pointed directly at me while I breastfed my three-week-old son beneath a beach umbrella.
I could barely see the screen from where I was sitting, but I didn’t need to.
The woman holding it wasn’t trying to hide what she was doing.
She was filming me.
Then she began walking closer.
“So this is acceptable now?” she called out. “This is disgusting!”
Heads turned.
Families near the water began looking in our direction.
I instinctively pulled the lightweight muslin blanket higher around my baby, even though there was nothing exposed. Oliver’s tiny head was the only part of him visible.
My face grew hot.
Not because I was ashamed of feeding my son.
I wasn’t.
I was embarrassed because a quiet afternoon with my children had suddenly become a public spectacle. And I didn’t want a scene. I only wanted to feed my hungry baby and give my eight-year-old daughter the afternoon she had been patiently waiting for.
Oliver was just three weeks old.
