Breastfeeding is a natural and beautiful process that helps create intimacy and bonding between the mom and her bundle of joy.
Feeding babies whenever and wherever they are hungry is something mom’s shouldn’t feel bad about, but sadly, there are people out there who give them a hard time as they believe feeding babies in public is not appropriate or acceptable if they don’t use a cover.
Back in 2018, Melanie Dudley, a mom of a 3-month-old baby, was at a restaurant with her family and some friends when the little one started crying for food. Without hesitation, Melanie, who is from Texas, started breastfeeding her son. And although everyone was fine with that, it looked like a stranger who was sitting on the next table was uncomfortable with this mom not being covered while breastfeeding.
He approached Melanie and asked her to cover up. And well, she did just that, but in a manner that stranger expected.
”I was on vacation in Cabo San Lucas with my entire family, and a man asked me to cover myself. I’m usually discreet but we were seated in the back of the restaurant,” Melanie told Yahoo.
“I did have the cover on, but it was so hot. It was like, 95 degrees, and my little baby was sweating,” the Texan told TODAY.
“I said, ‘You know what? I’m on vacation, I’m taking this off.’”
Melanie took the cover and put it on her head instead, having the entire restaurant bursting out in laughter.
”I just put it over my head. I don’t know why. It wasn’t like a salacious fight or anything. That was just my response. I had no words, so I thought, I’ll just cover my head instead,” the woman explained.
A woman who witnessed the entire thing, Carol Lockwood, took a photo of Melanie and shared it online with the caption, “I’ve never met her, but I think she’s AWESOME!!! (Please share! With permission, I’ve made this post public — I’m SO over people shaming women for nursing!!!” In no time, the photo was shared 225,000 times and counting.
A great number of people stood my Melanie’s side and supported what she did.
We truly believe that breastfeeding is the most normal thing and no mom should feel ashamed for giving food to her baby in public.
Please SHARE this article with your family and friends on Facebook.
I Allowed a Homeless Woman to Stay in My Garage—One Day I Walked in Unannounced and Was Shocked by What I Saw
I tapped the steering wheel, trying to shake the weight on my chest, when I spotted a disheveled woman digging through a trash can. I slowed down, drawn in by her grim determination.
She looked fragile yet fierce, fighting for survival. Without thinking, I pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked, “Do you need help?”
Her response was sharp but tired: “You offering?”
“I just saw you there,” I admitted, stepping out. “It didn’t seem right.”
“What’s not right is life,” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “You don’t strike me as someone who knows much about that.”
“Maybe not,” I replied, then asked if she had a place to stay.
“No,” she said, and I felt compelled to offer my garage as a temporary home. To my surprise, she accepted, albeit reluctantly.
Over the next few days, we shared meals and conversations. Lexi’s sharp wit broke through my loneliness, but I could sense her hidden pain.
One afternoon, I barged into the garage and froze. There, sprawled across the floor, were grotesque paintings of me—chains, blood, a casket. Nausea hit me.
That night, I confronted her. “What are those paintings?”
Her face went pale. “I didn’t mean for you to see them. I was just… angry.”
“So you painted me as a monster?” I demanded.
She nodded, shame in her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
I struggled to forgive her. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
The next morning, I helped her pack and drove her to a shelter, giving her some money. Weeks passed, and I felt the loss of our connection.
Then, a package arrived—another painting. This one was serene, capturing a peace I hadn’t known. Inside was a note with Lexi’s name and number.
My heart raced as I called her. “I got your painting… it’s beautiful.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know if you’d like it,” she replied.
“You didn’t owe me anything,” I said, reflecting on my own unfairness.
“I’m sorry for what I painted,” she admitted. “You were just… there.”
“I forgave you the moment I saw that painting. Maybe we could start over.”
“I’d like that,” she said, a smile evident in her voice.
We made plans to meet again, and I felt a flicker of hope for what could be.
Leave a Reply