ABSTRACT
I’m sitting on an airplane en route to an academic conference. My laptop, diaper bag, breast pump, nursing pillow, stroller and carseat have been stowed and I’ve managed to do up my seatbelt using my left hand, my right being otherwise occupied, holding my 11-week-old daughter to my breast. She nurses hungrily – looking up at my face occasionally to make sure that amidst the chaos of traveling I’m still here. Other passengers are still boarding the plane. Some smile as they pass me, others avert their eyes, and a few try and steal a good peek at my breast. I personally couldn’t care less as I settle into my seat and sigh. Boarding a plane is a lot of work these days. I don’t travel light. But I’m sitting down now, everything in its proper place and my daughter is content, making noises of deep satisfaction. She’ll drift off to sleep soon, waking up in yet another city. This is her third conference and long-haul flight. We’re pros at making it work.
