This is a piece I've had on my mind for quite some time. It wasn't until I watched a youtube video of a spoken word poem called Embarrassed by Hollie McNish (which can be found on youtube, if you're curious) that I decided to write this. (To be clear, I am not a mother, however breastfeeding was an incredibly normal part of my childhood and to this day I find it utterly ridiculous that women are publicly harassed for feeding their children. Nor am I passing judgement on women who do not breastfeed. It was just a story in my soul that I had to tell, particularly because my muse has been so fleeting lately).

Many thanks to my amazing Mama who breastfed myself and all five of my siblings, in public and otherwise, and to my FB mamas and my amazing beta who shall remain nameless because she was supposed to be writing her own fic.

A trip out of the house. Alone. With the baby. She could do it. She could totally do it. The first two weeks were a blur of figuring out feeding and how to act like a human in the face of severe lack of sleep. After that, she'd started venturing out of the house (she'd read all the literature, cooping yourself up at home was a one way ticket to post partum depression), but she'd always had Castle in her ear, reminding her to take an extra outfit or that four diapers just weren't enough, or on a few occasions left Olive at home with Castle, each time receiving a desperate phone call begging her to "bring home her magical boobs".

Lanie had called her that morning and decided that they should meet at their favourite café on Fifth Avenue and Kate couldn't deny that she was going a little stir crazy inside the loft. Castle was locked into contract negotiations for a Nikki comic book line and there was only so much time a new mom could spend talking to a baby and getting no reply. "Okay, Olive," Kate announced, picking up the baby from where she was enjoying tummy time on the living room floor, cooing contentedly to herself. "We are going on an adventure."

The late June weather was just tempting enough to lead Kate to strap Olive into the top of the line stroller (that looked like it might be part spaceship, but was really designed so Kate could take it running) so that they could enjoy the twenty minute walk to the café rather than attempting to get into a town car or onto the subway.

Kate allowed herself a satisfied smile as she walked through George Washington Park. This was all going perfectly. First solo trip out of the house with offspring in tow was a success. "We're winning at this, Olive," Kate addressed her daughter. Olive responded with a pitiful mewl.

Kate checked her watch. They'd yet to totally nail down a feeding schedule, but Kate had crossed her fingers and hoped that the feed from an hour ago would be enough to tide Olive over until they were settled in the café. From the mewls that were slowly building up to full scale wailing, she'd been wrong.

Looking through the diaper bag, Kate realised that she'd left the bright purple cover up that she'd been given by a co worker of Martha's on the table by the door (ironically so that she wouldn't forget it). She didn't have any expressed milk with her. Olive's distress was only getting worse. Kate could feel that her breasts were heavy with milk and knew she was seconds away from leaking all over her shirt.

She was given a sympathetic smile from a slightly ragged looking mother chasing a toddler, who nodded over to a bench that was shaded by a large oak tree. Kate could feel her nerves creeping up and threatening to choke her. This was going to be so uncomfortable. But Olive came first. Her baby was hungry and she needed to be fed.

Kate eased her hungry baby out of the stroller, settling against the back of the metal park bench. Kate made quick work of undoing the buttons of her shirt and unsnapping the clip on her maternity bra, before helping a howling Olive attach to her and begin feeding. Once she was settled, Kate shot off a quick text to Lanie explaining that they needed an emergency feed stop and that they would be late for their lunch date.

There was a small playground opposite the park bench where Kate had planted herself. In a few years, she'd be one of those moms who hovered around the edge of the swing set and teeter totters, watching her little one run around and play (and if she was anything like the Castles who had gone before her, charming the pants off every kid in the sandbox).

A voice broke through Kate's reverie. "Could you go do that someplace else?"

Kate looked up to see a blonde woman in her forties, well dressed, and Kate surmised, at the park with the assistance of her nanny, looking down her nose at her.

"Excuse me?"

"You could be a little more dignified. There are children around, as well as men and you're exposing yourself," the woman hissed.

Kate had to fight not to let her jaw drop. "I'm not sunbaking topless. I'm feeding my child. There's a difference." Kate looked down to check that Olive was correctly attached. Seeing that she was, she continued. "You see more boob on your average billboard than you can see right now with me feeding. At least I'm using mine for their intended purpose."

"Don't you think it would be more appropriate to do that in a restroom somewhere?"

Kate actually scoffed out loud at that. She'd once done surveillance on a suspect as a rookie from inside a Central Park public bathroom and she'd been so disgusted by the smells from inside that she'd vowed from that day onward that she'd rather soil herself than go inside one ever again. "Are you planning on eating your lunch in one?" Kate asked innocently.

"Don't be vulgar," the woman hissed, still refusing to make eye contact with Kate.

"I'm not being vulgar. You couldn't pay me to eat in a public restroom stall, but you have no problem with asking my four week old baby to do so."

"You know, there are laws against this," the woman snapped, not even pretending to be watching her children.

Kate had been waiting to hear that particular nugget of wisdom. Adjusting her grip on Olive, she reached one handed into her handbag to pull out her badge (despite the fact that she was on maternity leave, she still didn't feel comfortable leaving the house without it). "You're right," Kate agreed, holding up the shield. "I'm exercising my legally protected right to feed my child and you're harassing me for it. So if you wouldn't mind, you can put a blanket over your head if my child's eating habits are so morally offensive." With that, Kate returned her attention to Olive, milk drunk and content in her arms. She refused to give the woman the satisfaction of looking back at her, but judging by the loud huff and clacking of high heels on concrete, she and Olive were alone. Kate adjusted her shirt and placed Olive on her shoulder, gently rubbing her back, burp cloth strategically in place.

"Good for you," a voice next to Kate murmured. She looked up. It was the slightly exhausted looking mother from before.

"Thanks," Kate replied hesitantly.

"Women like that used to intimidate the shit out of me," the mom told her, eyes scanning the playground for her rambunctious toddler. "I would hide in bathrooms, trying desperately not to smack the kid's head against the toilet paper dispenser, all so that I wouldn't have to hear a lecture about how it was much more polite for me to fill up a bottle with chemicals instead of using the milk I make for free. So good for you for standing your ground."

"Thanks," Kate said quietly, standing up to clip Olive back into the stroller.

"You're her Mama and you make the decisions. Don't forget that."

Kate couldn't help the grin that was spread across her face. She was accepted into the mama bear fold. "I won't."