Why Breast Leakage During Pregnancy Is No Longer Taboo — And Why That Matters

In the past, discussing bodily changes during pregnancy—especially something as intimate as breast leakage—was often relegated to hushed conversations behind closed doors. Today, that silence is breaking. High-profile figures like Meghan Markle, Beyoncé, and model Emily Ratajkowski have openly discussed the realities of lactation during pregnancy, helping to normalize a natural physiological process that affects the majority of expectant mothers. Colostrum, the thick, nutrient-rich pre-milk fluid, can begin to leak from the breasts as early as the second trimester. Once considered embarrassing or something to hide, this phenomenon is now being embraced as a symbol of maternal strength and biological readiness.

Medical experts affirm that lactation during pregnancy is not only common but also a sign of a well-functioning endocrine system. Hormonal shifts, particularly the rise in prolactin and oxytocin, prime the mammary glands for breastfeeding long before delivery. According to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG), up to 90% of pregnant women experience some degree of breast leakage by the third trimester. Yet, for decades, this was rarely discussed in mainstream media or prenatal education. The shift began in the 2010s as celebrities and influencers started sharing unfiltered pregnancy journeys on social media. Instagram posts showing nursing pads, leaked colostrum, and honest conversations about body changes have helped dismantle long-standing taboos.

The cultural ripple effect of this normalization is significant. When public figures like actress Teyonah Parris shared a photo during her pregnancy with a visible milk stain on her blouse, captioned “Body doing its job,” it sparked thousands of supportive comments from women who felt seen. This visibility aligns with a broader movement toward body autonomy and reproductive transparency, echoing campaigns like #FreeTheNipple and postpartum advocacy led by activists such as Christy Turlington Burns. The message is clear: women’s bodies are not broken or shameful when they function as designed.

Moreover, the shift has practical implications. Open dialogue encourages expectant mothers to seek advice without shame. Lactation consultants report an increase in prenatal consultations, with women asking about proper bra support, managing leakage, and preparing for breastfeeding. Retailers have responded: brands like Kindred Bravely and Cake Maternity now offer absorbent, eco-friendly nursing pads and leak-proof pregnancy bras marketed not as medical accessories but as essential wellness products.

This cultural reframe also intersects with workplace equity. As more women speak up about pregnancy-related bodily changes, it strengthens the case for better maternity accommodations—such as private lactation spaces and flexible scheduling—well before delivery. The conversation around leaking breasts is no longer just about biology; it’s about dignity, education, and systemic change. In reclaiming these narratives, women are not just normalizing a bodily function—they’re redefining what it means to be seen, supported, and respected during one of life’s most transformative phases.