I was inspired to write by my own experiences as a mother, encountering a culture of mother shaming and outright self-harm, as well as observing the rampant ignorance in the Russian information space regarding issues related to mood disorders, the needs of mothers and caring for a newborn. According to research*, women with experience of sexual violence are more likely to experience guilt, fear and difficulties with breastfeeding than women without such experience - mastitis, breast and nipple pain, engorgement, flashbacks, dysfunction of oxytocin production, dissociation during feeding and others. All of the listed symptoms and difficulties, with the light hand of people who do not have sufficient knowledge in psychology and physiology, can be called infantilism, effeminacy, irresponsibility and insensitivity of the mother. Unfortunately, such statements lead to isolation, feelings of guilt and even greater difficulties in motherhood. The topic is vast and complex, so I decided to start small - to share my own story of breastfeeding, as a person who has experience of sexual abuse as an adult, children sexual trauma and experience of physical and emotional abuse in the parental family. Several years ago I had a medical abortion. The decisive factor in the decision was the fact that pregnancy occurred after rape. Breastfeeding (breastfeeding) was initially of great value to me. Even during pregnancy, I tried to take care to find out as much information as possible and surround myself at least online with friendly people and competent specialists. And a few days after giving birth, having encountered the first difficulties, she called a consultant, who gave the whole family a sea of ​​​​happiness and peace after several days of unsuccessful attempts to attach Seva, her son. GW is not just food. And now I’m not talking about the child, but about myself. I would like to emphasize that feeding became a great resource for me. The birth ended in an emergency caesarean section, difficult recovery and post-traumatic stress disorder. For the first 24 hours, Seva’s husband was with me, and even when they brought the baby to me in the recovery room, I didn’t experience any feelings, only the desire to pass out. I was shaking and taken out of my body. All this was due to sexual traumas, including childhood ones, which by that time I had not yet come into contact with in psychotherapy, a difficult pregnancy with four hospitalizations, and disappointment in dreams of natural flow and bliss in motherhood. So, thanks to breastfeeding, I finally managed to feel like a MOM. A mother who is nurturing, strong, fertile, soft, protective, big, grown up. A cruel attitude towards oneself, embittered, unfair or indifferent, including towards the body, is often an echo of abuse. For so many years the body seemed to me broken, not working, inappropriate, interfering and a constant source of problems and nerves. Despite this attitude, it stubbornly gave birth and gave birth to rivers of milk. This event, like a small path in a huge thicket of hatred and disappointment after a natural birth that did not happen, did not allow me to completely fall into the idea of ​​myself as a lifeless woman, unnecessary, worthless and worthless. Breasts, which seemed to me incomprehensibly created, disturbing and dirty, was filled with milk, which the little man still drinks with such pleasure. The milk that is created in this breast turned out to be an elixir of health, peace, the best protection and nutrition. Before my eyes, a person eating only it gained kilograms of weight and glowed with life. I am writing this and tears are flowing. I don’t know if it’s possible to somehow convey this happiness in words. The first year gave me a lot - an alternative view of myself, my abilities and strength. In December, a couple of months ago, Seva was already over a year old. He grew up and began to look like a little man. I constantlyI felt exhausted, squeezed and broken. I only had enough strength for the most basic things: drinking, eating, going to the toilet. Seva woke up eight times a night. The worst test was not even his awakenings (he could sleep restlessly after a hard day before), but the long periods of falling asleep throughout the night with suction, that is, with constant bodily contact and stimulation of the chest. Every night, pictures of rape and beatings appeared before his eyes. Every Sevyn cry, when I tried to take my breasts and quietly roll over to the other side, raised a wave of helplessness, guilt and anger. I cried, cried quietly, so as not to wake up the child and try to get at least a little sleep. It felt like I was being raped by a dozen men at once, touched everywhere and held motionless. I didn’t see any way out, I felt very bad and scared. Refusing to breastfeed, I was faced with an even more painful feeling of guilt, and, accordingly, also with the need to find strength in myself and console an upset and angry child, when I myself needed support and I wanted to run away. What happened at night was emotionally so terrible that for two or maybe even three weeks by the morning I forgot almost everything. And she simply lived on, as if nothing was happening, and was also surprised at her non-existent state. Finally, external circumstances turned out more favorably, and there were fewer awakenings. I managed to get some sleep. As soon as everything that was happening “came to light”, I gathered the courage to raise this topic in psychotherapy, and at the same time talked with a sleep consultant and breastfeeding consultant. I knew that curtailing breastfeeding was not a panacea and did not guarantee a reduction in night awakenings. And in general, neither I nor Seva were ready to stop yet. The consultant told me how to adjust the routine and what important things affect the quality of night sleep in a child at this age. For example, a sense of security that neither he nor I had with our constant travel in unpredictable conditions. I myself also began to notice something affecting my sleep and general condition, and I tried to correct it. All this with varying degrees of success, of course, but it helped reduce awakenings at night to about three times and eliminate long hanging on the chest. This is about the technical side of the issue. There is also a psychological one, which I still work with in therapy. I could talk for a long time here, but if I focus on the topic of violence, then I wanted with my story, first of all, to draw attention to how my sexual traumas affect my relationship with my child and aspects of motherhood. The abundance of bodily contact, especially its uncontrollability and unpredictability, is experienced with high energy consumption, causes flashbacks to old stories and a mixture of difficult-to-digest feelings. Night time and feeding in the dark always pose a risk of causing painful associations. For the past year and a half, I have been facing difficulties with sleep and falling asleep, weakness, weakness, anxiety, depressed mood and health problems. The eating disorder came to mind. I also find it difficult to take care of myself and set boundaries. I really need support, acceptance, non-judgmental attention, but at the same time I am always “on guard”, it is difficult to trust and relax. I am very lucky to have the opportunity not only to visit a psychologist, but also to be in a friendly and knowledgeable community of helping practitioners. I had the opportunity to take part in a valuable course by psychologist and doula Daria Utkina, dedicated to the impact of the experience of violence on motherhood, where I learned a lot of information that still helps me and my clients to see reasons, connections, and bring more clarity and support to postpartum chaos. It’s hard to imagine how much it’s hard for a young mother to face bewilderment about her choices (why bother feeding then?) and “successes” (how can you not cope with such basic things?), condemnation (think about the child), devaluation (just switch to formula), And