The Story Behind Generation B: Rethinking Nursing Lingerie

I’m Anisa, founder of Generation B.

This brand was not born only from a personal experience. It was born from the moment I understood, with absolute clarity, that an entire category had spent too long solving function without truly looking at the woman.

For years, I worked as an engineer. My identity was deeply connected to thinking, structure, results, and the possibility of building something. Work was a space of intellectual demand, ambition, and meaning. And for a long time, that part of me occupied a central place in my life.

In 2022, life took me to Villahermosa, in the south of the Gulf of Mexico. Soon after came pregnancy, then motherhood, and with it a change of scale in everything: in my body, in time, in energy, in the way I inhabited myself. Something harder to name arrived too: the feeling that I was gradually losing an identity that, for years, had been an essential part of who I was.

I did not have a close support network. It was my husband and me, learning to become parents in real time. The sleepless nights came, the repetition, the exhaustion, the sense that life had suddenly narrowed. For my husband, perhaps the hardest part was the lack of sleep. For me, it was feeling that I was running out of inner space. I missed thinking. I missed work. I missed intellectual pressure, challenges, ambition. I missed recognizing myself.

Over time, I understood something else as well: within certain corporate structures, reconciling motherhood with an ambitious professional career can become profoundly difficult. The expectation of constant availability remained the same, but my life was no longer the same. That was when I understood that I would not return to work as I had before. Losing that structure was both a grief and a revelation.

Then came the body.

The body after birth. The weight that does not simply disappear. The distance between the woman you remember and the woman you see in the mirror. Like many others, I had also read about acceptance, gratitude, and patience. But the concrete experience of living inside a changing body does not always fit neatly into the right words.

And one night, while feeding my son, something happened that finally put it all into language. I was tired, full of milk, in a body that had changed, wearing a nursing bra from H&M. And in that simple image, I saw something I could no longer unsee. I began searching for beautiful nursing lingerie. Also sexy nursing lingerie. I searched in English, in Spanish, in Russian. I even looked across other markets. I did not find anything that truly answered what I needed.

It was not only an aesthetic issue.

It was a deeper failure.

What the market offers

For years, the category of nursing lingerie has been built around a very narrow logic: quick access, basic practicality, a temporary solution. Most products answer only one question: how to open the cup. But breastfeeding transforms much more than that.

It transforms breast volume.

It transforms sensitivity.

It transforms the way a garment touches the body for hours.

It transforms a woman’s relationship with her image, with desire, with her sense of continuity with herself.

And yet, much of the market continues to offer the same thing: utilitarian pieces, visually poor, often designed to be tolerated rather than chosen. Garments that perform a minimal function, but do not truly accompany the physical, aesthetic, and emotional complexity of this stage.

Why that does not work

The problem is not that a garment is functional.

The problem is when function is designed as if the woman had to disappear inside it.

During breastfeeding, a woman does not need access alone. She needs support. Adaptation. Softness. Intelligence in construction. Less friction. Fewer layers. More respect for a body that can change several times a day. And she also needs something harder to measure, but just as real: to see herself and recognize herself.

That is the part the category has underestimated for too long.

As if, during this stage, a woman no longer needed beauty.

As if aesthetic desire were frivolous.

As if feeling good in herself were secondary to function.

I do not believe that.

In fact, I believe this is one of the market’s greatest blind spots.

Because a garment made for breastfeeding does not touch only the body. It also touches the way a woman moves through her day, her tiredness, her identity, and her perception of herself.

The category we imagined

Generation B was born from that discomfort, but it did not remain in criticism. It was born to propose a different answer.

We did not want to design from the logic of “solving the minimum.”

We wanted to design from the woman.

From a body in transition.

From a stage of enormous physical and emotional demand.

From the conviction that function and beauty should not exclude each other.

That is why, from the beginning, we thought about the category differently.

Not as “nursing lingerie” understood only as a temporary tool.

But as lingerie for women who breastfeed.

The difference may seem subtle, but it changes everything.

When the starting point is function in isolation, the result is often a cold, basic, interchangeable garment.

When the starting point is the woman, function becomes integrated in a more intelligent, more respectful, and more beautiful way.

What we propose instead

At Generation B, we speak about integrating, adapting, and elevating.

Integrating, because function should not feel like an added, awkward layer, but like a natural part of the design.

Adapting, because the breastfeeding body is not static, and a garment made for this stage must respond better to that changing reality.

Elevating, because this category needs to be brought to another level: in construction, in sensitivity, in aesthetics, and in the way it understands women’s well-being.

We do not design to idealize motherhood.

We design to accompany it with more intelligence.

We do not design to romanticize exhaustion.

We design to reduce some of the everyday friction.

We do not design so a woman can “settle” during this stage.

We design because we believe that, precisely during this stage, she deserves more care, not less.

The experience that was missing

When I spoke with other women who had breastfed, I heard different versions of the same story again and again: they had bought something practical, something beige, something shapeless, something they wanted to remove from their lives as soon as that stage was over. That confirmed that I was not seeing only a personal need. I was seeing a category gap.

And that was when I understood the essential point:

nursing lingerie is not a peripheral garment.

It is one of the most constant garments of that period.

The one that accompanies every day.

The one that touches the skin when the body is most sensitive.

The one that can add discomfort or help relieve it.

The one that can reinforce disconnection or help restore a sense of presence.

If this garment occupies such a central place, why has the market treated it for so long as a minor solution?

The real origin of Generation B

Generation B was born when I lost an important part of my identity and, at the same time, was able to see with new clarity everything the category was not seeing.

It was born from a loss, yes.

But also from an observation.

And then, from a decision.

The decision not to accept that, during such an intense stage, a woman had to choose between function and aesthetics.

Between practicality and visual dignity.

Between solving a need and recognizing herself.

I wanted to create an answer that would accompany the woman without infantilizing her. One that would respect the changing body without visually punishing it. One that would integrate real function with a more beautiful experience of wear. One that would say something different about this stage through its very construction.

Perhaps that is why I think of Generation B not only as a brand, but as a way of reformulating the conversation.

Not because the category needs more noise.

But because it needs more vision.