Coming into the photography studio I felt nervous about exposing myself, putting my body out for public scrutiny flaws and all. For me though, it wasn’t just about baring my soft, stretched post-partum body, but more about exposing my body’s failures and inadequacies.

I was barring all in a breastfeeding photo shoot on the joys of tandem nursing my hungry, rolling acrobatic 8-month-old twin boys. I felt hesitant however portraying myself as a breastfeeding mother. I feel like that is a title reserved for the exclusive breast-feeding mother. You know, the mom whose babies have never seen a bottle nor tasted a drop of formula, the “real” breastfeeding moms.

Unfortunately, that is not quite how our breastfeeding experience has gone. After dealing with infertility, IVF, and induced labour ending with a vacuum extraction, I had already learned not to entirely trust my body. It seemed to lack that innate motherly wisdom so many women feel, but despite this, I was determined to breastfeed my babies. Minutes after delivering my second son, both boys were put on my chest and they latched beautifully. Finally, I thought, this was something we knew how to do. This was a part of the motherhood process I could be successful at. My body could do this.

After two weeks however, I knew something was wrong. They cried and cried constantly, lost weight and were never satisfied even after hours of nursing. I was determined however to do this, to make my body produce enough. I battled with myself, took handfuls of supplements, power-pumped, nursed continuously, and drank pots of milkmaid tea and still my boys cried. And I cried, locked in the bathroom at night, miserable that my body was not only failing me, but failing these beautiful little boys who depended on me to sustain them.

When my husband gave them their first bottle, I cried the whole time. Formula was the kiss of death to breastfeeding I believed. The boys devoured the bottle, came off milk drunk and slept soundly. That bottle of formula could do what my breasts were unable to. It filled them. I hated my breasts for not giving enough and I hated myself for not being enough. It was a horrible feeling of failure and resentment toward my body that I was all too familiar with and the pain and insecurities from years of infertility came flooding back.

At this time I have made peace with my body and with our breastfeeding story, but I still occasionally feel resentment toward my body and guilty that I wasn’t able to give my boys the gift of exclusively breastfeeding. I am learning to love my body for all that it does, but also for what it has struggled with. I cherish the miracle that I was able to conceive two amazing boys, because I struggled with infertility. I am so proud of nursing my boys this long and know how precious our time nursing together is, because I struggled with low supply. Those little two-toothed grins smiling up at me remind me how precious it really is. In my boys eyes I am a successful “real” nursing mom and they love me unconditionally despite what I see as my inadequacies.

This may not be how I envisioned motherhood. I may not be able to meet my twins’ caloric needs nursing. Luckily, my boys love solid food, and watching that snuggle time with dad having a bottle warms my heart. They fall asleep nursing and caressing my neck, they crawl over to nurse if they are hurt or scared, and they hold one another’s hand and play with each other’s hair as they nurse together. This experience has taught me to love my nursing body, as soft and un-toned as it may be. It has taught me to really cherish these moments with my babies, and to find awe in the small things my body has accomplished and continues to do as a mother.

- Photographs and Story Sourcing by Ashley Nayler, one of the therapeutic photographers for A Beautiful Body Project based in Petersborough, Ontario, Canada. You can book a shoot with her and learn more about her work here: www.ashnayler.com or www.facebook.com/ashnaylerphotography