Other Mother Breastfeeding

Here's a thought for anyone who cares: I spend $100s, invested hours, almost ruined two small, delicate but very important and valuable parts of my own body, - just to breastfeed.  As it turns out, the best I can do is offer him a little colostrum, and a lot of comfort.  
It's still valuable, but in truth I may have been able to offer it before the $100s and hours.  Then again, maybe not.  I took the Fenugreek (pills and liquid), "More Milk" (liquid), drank organic Mother's Milk tea (yuck!), purchased Domperidone (which is illegal in the States), endured headaches and sleepiness each of the first two weeks I'd use it to restimulate, ate oatmeal and pumped - goodness did I pump - every day, in bed, at home, at work - sometimes trekking all the way to a dirty closet in the basement of the school I work in on my 35 minute prep period to set up and pump 10 minutes, unpack and trek back up. Sometimes I'd pump hours, 3-11 times in a single day.  Watching a single drop of colostrum grow was thrilling, and to be honest, all I ever really wanted was to be able to offer him the extra antibodies.  I stopped, thoguh, when the next step was a SRS machine which feeds him while he works to get me to make milk.  I didn't really need it it anyway.  He comfort sucks any time if I'm there and he doesn't start off too hungry.  
But the other day when Amy asked me how I felt about breastfeeding in public, I think she was surprised when I said "I hate it" without-missing a beat.  
Amy was not looking forward to public displays of breastfeeding.  I, on the other hand, the usual "shy-er" one, did not anticipate hesitation at all.  I don't normally think twice where only my pride is at stake.
But "other" mother breastfeeding is not only physically challenging, it's socially intricate.  I mean there is the usual gambit of men and women who seem partially limited in visual scope the minute that baby goes under the cape (Why?  I mean, there's a cape!), yet still, one might worry if they encounter those more eager stares.  But most in our presence know that Amy was Kody's birthmother, and if they don't know before, they soon learn in our presence, that she's the primary breastfeeder (primarily).  At home, I've come to learn that the comfort suck can be just as important for Kody as the feed-suck.  The kid won't take a pacifier, and he never tires!  (It's such a shame more men don't engage their children on this level. Men can pretty much do everything that I did.  I'm more than sure that "Honey, he wants his mommy" thing would dissopate and a little more responsibility would kick in.  Wouldn't that be a nice evolution for the sexes?)
But when a baby goes first on a boob (before they really learn how), I've noticed they have this way of bobbing and thrusting their head toward it in such a way that thwarts all of your gentle guidances and usually serves to frustrate them.  In the end, nobody gets to relax until the kid at least begins to cry and mom can utilize that opportunity to smoosh his face square on the nipple and hold it there until he latches properly.
But when that happens to me in public, I feel like such a weird-o.  How could I possibly expect men to give in and let their children breastfeed (or at least comfort suck) from them if I can't even handle a few strangers wondering why I'm thrusting my boob into this other woman's baby's mouth?