When Sally was one month old, I went back to my secretary job at Columbia University. Just four hours a day at first, then six. I loved it. Though I wanted Sally fiercely, I wasn’t ready, at twenty-three, to stay home all day in a poor section of The Bronx with no friends. Dick stayed home with Sally until it was time for his classes, then brought her in on the subway every afternoon for the trade-off.
My boss helped me find empty faculty offices to pump breastmilk in twice a day. I read advice that you should carry a picture of your baby to help your milk let-down when you pump. All I had to do was relax, close my eyes, breathe deeply, think of small, sweet Sally, and the milk flowed.
There are so many myths and misconceptions about breastfeeding, and then there are so many well-meaning people who give odd advice. A friend said to me the other day “You know how you’re not supposed to read while you breastfeed?” and I looked at her blankly, Huh? “You know, they say you’re supposed to be bonding with the baby, stroking their cheeks, looking into their eyes.”
I think having quiet time to read a book, and yes, to sniff the baby’s soft, fuzzy head every few minutes, is one of the best things about breastfeeding. Also the urgent tug on my breast and the curled fists that knead and the sighs and the last drop of milk that dribbles out as my baby gives her drunk sailor smile when she’s full.
If I have another child, it will probably be because I want to feel that again. Because the promise of being that close and that necessary to another human being for the first year of her life outweighs the other promises: of sleep-broken nights and whiny voices raised in petty disputes.
Breastfeeding, to me, was more emotionally significant than carrying my children in my womb. They lived, each of them, for nine months, inside me. They kicked and slept and bounced. They came from me, are of me, they have my freckles (and Dick’s). But it was when I held them to my breast, and they sucked and sucked and sucked, sometimes until I felt I had nothing left to give, like the Giving Tree who gave it all — that was when I knew they were mine.
I know some women can’t breastfeed, and other women don’t enjoy it. I can, and I do, and I’m sorry: so, so sorry, if you can’t or you don’t (and wish you could or did). There are probably experiences you enjoy that I’ll never fully understand, but let me share my joy without thinking I’m criticizing you or diminishing you.
Unless you think breastfeeding is something that should be hidden or something weird or something to be done under cover, in that small room, or only as long as “nothing shows” or no one is inconvenienced.
Then I am criticizing you, and I’m saying you’re mistaken.
And this includes people who are afraid that exposing (young) men to women breastfeeding will somehow harm them morally. I can’t even believe I typed that sentence. It is completely illogical. Letting young men see what breasts are for will LET THEM SEE WHAT BREASTS ARE FOR.
Under Islam, if a woman breastfeeds a child, the child is considered related to her, meaning that breastfeeding children who are not yours is common in other parts of the world. The United States is whacked, my friends. Whacked, I tell you. We’ve hyper-sexualized breasts for so long and so completely that when we even contemplate the public practice of WHAT BREASTS ARE FOR, people get uncomfortable.
And often these are the same people who would be blase and oh-so-sophisticated at a screening of the latest Oscar-winning movie to feature female nudity.
I had a friend in Florida who gave birth to twins after a long spell of trying. One of her twins loved to breastfeed, and the other didn’t. One day we were at the mall play place. I was still nursing Spot, who was about seven months old. My friend’s twins were three months, and she was concerned about the twin who preferred the bottle.
Spot, who was the smallest of my babies, was quite plump compared to the twins. I would have been a great wet nurse, what with my natural lactating abilities. And even though I love breastfeeding, there were times I felt like nothing so much as a great big jersey milk cow, because if I am a natural breastfeed-er, my children have been world-class milkers. Ahem.
My friend’s babies started crying, and she latched on the one who wasn’t a great nurser. The other baby’s crying increased, and my friend suggested I feed her. We had talked about this before, about how my friend and her sisters had breastfed each other’s babies.
It sounded vaguely icky.
But my friend’s baby was still crying, and I was curious. How would it work? Would it feel wrong?
So I breastfed my friend’s baby. And it was a bit weird, a bit different. She didn’t smell just like mine, or suck just like mine. She latched fairly well and tugged. She stopped crying. She settled down intently, and I never forgot that she was my friend’s, in those twenty minutes that I held her so intimately to me.
Now my Spot is well-weaned. I miss my friend, who I haven’t seen since we moved to Utah. We’re facing a severe recession, and I’m afraid to bring another child into a world that scorns what should be respected and respects what deserves scorn.
But what do recession and breastfeeding (and humanity) have to do with each other?
The boy spoke in a croaking monotone. “Fust he was sick but now he’s starvin’.”
“What?”
“Starvin’. Got sick in the cotton. He ain’t et for six days.”
Ma walked to the corner and looked down at the man. He was about fifty, his whiskery face gaunt, and his open eyes were vague and staring. The boy stood beside her. “Your pa?” Ma asked.
“Yeah! Says he wasn’ hungry, or he jus’ et. Give me the food. Now he’s too weak. Can’t hardly move.”
…The boy was at her side again explaining, “I didn’ know. He said he et, or he wasn’ hungry. Las’ night I went an’ bust a winda an’ stoled some bread. Made ‘im chew ‘er down. But he puked it all up, an’ then he was weaker. Got to have soup or milk. You folks got money to git milk?”
Ma said, “Hush. Don’ worry. We’ll figger somepin out.”
Suddenly the boy cried, “He’s dyin’, I tell you! He’s starvin’ to death, I tell you.”
“Hush,” said Ma. She looked at Pa and Uncle John standing helplessly gazing at the sick man. She looked at Rose of Sharon huddled in the comfort. Ma’s eyes passed Rose of Sharon’s eyes, and then came back to them. And the two women looked deep into each other. The girl’s breath came short and gasping.
She said “Yes.”
Ma smiled. “I knowed you would. I knowed!” She looked down at her hands, tight-locked in her lap.
Rose of Sharon whispered, “Will you all go out?” The rain whisked lightly on the roof.
Ma leaned forward and with her palm she brushed the tousled hair back from her daughter’s forehead, and she kissed her on the forehead. Ma got up quickly. “Come on, you fellas,” she called. “You come out in the tool shed.”
Ruthie opened her mouth to speak. “Hush,” Ma said. “Hush and git.” She herded them through the door, drew the boy with her; and she closed the squeaking door.
For a minute Rose of Sharon sat still in the whispering barn. Then she hoisted her tired body up and drew the comforter about her. She moved slowly to the corner and stood looking down at the wasted face, into the wide, frightened eyes. Then slowly she lay down beside him. He shook his head slowly from side to side. Rose of Sharon loosened one side of the blanket and bared her breast. “You got to,” she said. She squirmed closer and pulled his head close. “There!” she said. “There.” Her hand moved behind his head and supported it. Her fingers moved gently in his hair. She looked up and across the barn, and her lips came together and smiled mysteriously. (The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck, 1939)
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You Salma Hayek before Salma Hayek even did!
I found breastfreeding really difficult, but am glad I persevered through the eight weeks of torturous pain to stick it out. There were times at my in laws where my MIL couldn’t even watch me feed, because of the tears and pain. But, we got through the nipple thrush and use-Mummy-as-a-Dummy (pacifier), thanks to the help of a great lactation consultant, and some very strong determination on my part that I’d breastfeed Matilda.
So, for the first few months of going back to work, M had 3 breastfeeds and 2 bottle feeds a day, and she worked it all out.
It is hard for me to understand the mothers who seem, from my vantage point, to try not so hard to keep breastfeeding, but I keep reminding myself I am not in their shoes, and I cannot know the full extent of their situation.
It wasn’t until I struggled with breastfeeding that I found I could not rely on my Mother or Grandmother for help – they had bottle fed (me on powdered milk, my aunts/uncle on goat’s milk). Determination, nipple thrush cream that the pharmacists told me shouldn’t be used on a 3-week old, and my lovely LC, got me through. In some ways, when I gave up my daytime feeds for formula feeds at 7 months, it was upsetting, but expressing was too painful and traumatic for me. It’s probably a cop out by my own harsh standards.
For me, the Baby Whisperer book by Tracy Hogg were a god send, and were where I discovered the “dream feed”. I got my husband to take photos of our last dreamfeed. It was hard to give up, but M didn’t really need it anymore. We had a lovely routine, where I’d nap after dinner, DH would wake me at about 10:30-11ish, and we’d grab M and I’d give her a “dream feed” in her sleep. It was such a lovely feed in our darkened TV room.
I also remember many, many 1-hour long feeds in the parents’ room at the local mega mall. I’m thinking whenever the next baby happens, those feeds will be happening on one of the nice comfy couches throughout the mall, not in the parents’ room (but that’ll depend on M and if she can sit anywhere quietly!!).
Now, as to what do recession and breastfeeding have to do with one another?
Well, breastfeeding has a cost associated with it (increased calorie and water consumption on the mother’s part than what she requires), but I don’t think it has much of a cost to a family’s budget when compared to formula, all the water boiling, bottle washing, sterilising that you have to do. Sure, there are the nursing pad things, but then while you’re exclusively brestfeeding, you’re probably not going to need to buy feminine hygiene products (my FAVOURITE side effect, in case you ever wondered). Generally speaking, breastfeeding is cheaper than bottle feeding, without taking into account any human factors that arise in some situations. So, that’s what it’s got to do with the recession!
And that’s a long enough comment from me …
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What an interesting blog title for this post. I get it now, but it wasn’t at all what I expected when I started reading. I’m curious to know what brought these ideas on. Did you just read or re-read “The Grapes of Wrath”, or did the ideas come first and the quote come later?
Anyway, I think America is ‘whacked’ too. I hate that I am encouraged to feel so uncomfortable breastfeeding my children in public, especially in restaurants–where everyone else is eating, why shouldn’t a baby? It’s really ridiculous, if you ask me.
I had a cousin that I swapped babysitting with last summer while we were going to school. We both had babies the same age, although her’s was a boy and mine, yet another girl (we have 3). Both babies were still breastfeeding and it was hard to always have a pumped bottle of milk (or two) ready to leave with one another. A few times my cousin breastfed my daughter. The idea of it totally weirded me out at first, but seriously, it’s all milk, why should it really matter? I never actually tried it myself with her son, but I considered it for a while, and don’t think that I will feel quite so uncomfortable with it if the opportunity ever presents itself in the future.
I have to admit that breast feeding is SO much easier than bottle feeding, and what mother wouldn’t miss the loss of a few extra calories 6 or so times a day. That, for me, is one of my favorite things about breastfeeding–it helps to thin my waist line, but I love the intimacy and closeness too. It really is a special and precious thing reserved just for mother and baby.
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Jane,
I agree with you, gladly (enjoyed your piece immensely) — I think you are exactly right, in your content, and title, and tone, even (or especially) in the use of the Steinbeck excerpt. There IS that mystery and comfort and intimacy and succorring of breast feeding.
But… it is BECAUSE of that mystery and intimacy and so forth, that young men are so sensitized to it (ie to breasts.) I agree that our culture is over-sexed, and that we all ought to remember breasts’ true intent and purpose. But it is ok for young men to be sensitized and wary, and oh so careful. Their need (and the need of young women) for such care is because you are so right.
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But what if your dog has mastitis?
What if there are 8 pups and only 7 teats?
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Captain Kirk – I woke up this morning thinking, oh, I wish I hadn’t used the word “intimate” when I said that that breastfeeding was more intimate than carrying my babies in my womb. I wish I could explain better what I mean without a “sexual” or “private” connotation. What I mean is that my emotional bond was cemented by the breastfeeding, whereas before the baby was more an object within me.
When I lay awake in the night, hearing Sally crying, and knowing that if *I* didn’t get up to feed her, no one else would, and she would die, THAT is when I first began to really feel like a mother. (and of course Dick would have fed her something, but the hormonal assurance and let-down of milk, the ability to fill that need, was staggeringly powerful).
There are some young men who are careful to not expose themselves to the hyper-sexualized images in our media, but I think even they (maybe especially they) would benefit, not be harmed, by exposure to what breasts are for. Because even if they guard against R-rated movies and would never think of looking at pornography, if they’ve seen prime-time TV, they know they’re supposed to look at breasts and see sex.
(So I edited the word “intimate” to “emotionally significant.” Someday I will start writing more than 40 minutes before I want to post something.)
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Kirsty – Just wanted to say that the first few weeks of nursing Sally were difficult for me as well. I read LaLeche stuff online (my mom had to leave just a couple days after the birth, and I was all alone in NYC), and the thing that bothered me most (and continues to bother me) about breastfeeding educational materials (and people) is when they say that if you’re doing it right, it doesn’t hurt. (I’ve written about this before). Breastfeeding is painful at first, not the same sharp pain when a baby is incorrectly latched (that’s worse, and SHARP!), but the pain of an unused muscle learning what it’s supposed to do.
I’m glad you persevered because it was so important to you, but I know that each woman has to make these choices for herself, and for some, it’s simply not worth the heartache and stress. Mommy really does need to take care of herself first!
Julia – I’ve never read the Grapes of Wrath. We read Of Mice and Men when I was in high school, and I remember my AP teacher telling us of this image at the end. I thought “ew” (I was 17, remember) and never picked it up. That was fourteen years ago, and I’ve thought of his description of this passage many times. Last night was the first time I ever looked it up, because I’ve been wanting to write something about this for awhile, and last night it boiled over.
And finally — I’m jealous that you lose weight while breastfeeding. I, unfortunately, take it as a license to eat like a trucker, (and I am starving like a trucker while nursing, also incredibly thirsty all the time), so I don’t really drop much weight.
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Amen sista! I adored breastfeeding my children. And I would do it anywhere, despite the scowls and odd looks from passers by. My husband’s family found it odd that I would so freely nurse in front of whoever was around. I suppose they thought I should be quarantined for 20 minutes every 2-3 hours. I always covered myself but it still seemed to cause discomfort. In the same regard I find it odd when my SIL goes off and hides while breastfeeding. I just don’t understand feeling the need to hide something that is beautiful and natural.
As far as nursing someone else’s child, good for you. No one would ever think twice about sharing formula with a baby. So, why is the breast so taboo?
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Wow – what a great post!! I loved brestfeeding my son as well! He literally nursed every hour for the first year of his life. You post is so wonderful! Thank you for sharing such an intimate story.
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Thanks for such a beautiful and non-judgemental post about breastfeeding. I really loved the grapes of wrath quote and now I may actually go out and read it.
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Wonderful blog post! I would not hesitate to breastfeed a baby who needs it. I left Ruby with my SIL for a babysitting once, and I was so impressed that she nursed her for me. My SIL is quite mainstream, and a nurse to boot, so I didn’t think she would feel comfortable doing so, even though I told her she could. But she did. Maternal instinct wins again!
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I love that book. He is such a great writer. Thanks for this post, it’s nice to read someone else’s take on breastfeeding that is exactly like mine. I read some and watched Dawson’s Creek in the wee hours of the morning when I was breastfeeding. I caught up on the whole series!
When I was a baby, my mom had 5 kids under 7. Her friend had 4 kids under 6. They did a weekly swap and when they had eachother’s babies, they breastfed them right along with their own! So, my friend(the other baby in the mix) and I call each other “busom buddie”. Ah, the 70s!
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Beautiful – and you should read GOW although Of Mice and Men is my fave by Steinbeck.
I miss it, too – the bf’ing – and the bond. It made all the other insanity worth it.
And I LOVED reading while bf’ing — I’ve never had such huge chunks of time to read since!!
Boobs have a job, world, and that’s feeding sweet babies!
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Breastfeeding is something every mom has an opinion on, I mean look how many lengthy comments you’ve been getting!
I think people are starting to come around with breastfeeding. My daughter had to be put on formula immediately after she was born due to health reasons, and after three months of pumping with the hospital grade pump, I gave up. My son, however, I was a bit more determined and after six months of hour long feedings where I would offer my breast and pump at the same time, he started breastfeeding. Then my milk supply dropped when he was a about ten months and while over at a friend’s house she gave him her breastmilk (from a bottle). I think it helped him get back on track because he was a bit more eager to nurse and we were able to continue until he was almost one year. Now he wakes up at night and I sigh, wishing that I could just lay down and nurse him…
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Amen! America really needs to change its crazy view on bf’ing. I loved it when Maggie Gyllenhall (sp?) had her baby and there were pics of her bf’ing her baby in public all over the place. Good for her! The more people do it, the more “normal” it will become. It used to crack me up that I would get weird looks when I would bf my child in public at the mall, yet there were people walking all over the mall carrying bags from victoria’s secret and Abercrombie with pictures of half-naked people on them. Apparently it’s ok to show parts of your breasts if you are doing it to turn someone on. Ugh. Thanks for writing this post, it was very brave. I’m sure you’ll get some ignorant and hateful comments from some people, but this mommy appreciates it:)
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i ignore the “whacked” American way of thinking when it comes to breastfeeding. i breastfed all of my 4 children in public without a blanket or anything. i just lifted up my shirt (i don’t wear a bra), positioned the baby, and relaxed. i didn’t care it I was at the arctic circle, church (even sacrament meeting), the airport, or some fancy restaurant. i breast fed in front of my older boys with my shirt all the way up. they didnt care, they knew breasts are for feeding babies. you can just ignore the American trends. no one ever has ever bothered me about it, and i have never been discrete.
as for the grapes of wrath passage, i dont know if i understood it, but if i did, i would never feed some sickly old man with my breast. God meant for that milk to be for babies, not for nasty old men…
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Good post. And the Steinbeck is fascinating – certainly I read that book a million years ago, and I had absolutely no recollection of that scene.
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Good post. And the Steinbeck is fascinating – certainly I read that book a million years ago, and I had absolutely no recollection of that scene.
Ooops, forgot have said great post! Waiting on the next post!
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i liked this post.
i’ve nursed Noah. Corrie has nursed Isaac.
We didn’t make it a regular thing, but you gotta do what you gotta do. We both weren’t sure how to tell the other one, but then it was like “me too!” I like nursing my own kids LOTS better. (And still do, as you know I’m sure, well, just Isaac.)
My little brother used to squirm when I would cover and nurse a baby, but my brother on a mission in Mexico said “what’s the big deal? everybody nurses right in front of us here!”
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Thank you. Just: THANK YOU.
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It was also common to nurse other people’s children in Argentina where my husband served his mission. It was also common for kids to nurse until 4 or 5 years old. I don’t think I would make it that long. I liked bonding with my BABY, but not so much on the toddler nursing as she was/is quite into active eating, where she likes to get a good mouthful and then work her way into sitting and standing positions so she can play.
As for personal experience nursing someone else’s baby, I got close a few times while babysitting, but I never did. All that hoopla on La Leche League and baby center about how I would be giving my babies nutrients away held me back.
And nursing an old man back to health… I don’t think I could do it. Since it is Steinbeck though, I am sure it is all symbolic, and I probably just don’t get it.
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Oh, and something I didn’t mention in my first 10,000 words on the topic … you went back to work one MONTH after Sally was born and you were able to be coherent (or at least coherent enough to stay working)??? Oh my golly goodness! I think here you’d even need a certificate from your doctor to return to work less than 6 weeks post-birth.
Thanks to our lengthy (compared to the US) but unpaid parental leave entitlements, I went back to work when M was 8 months old. I’m sure I still wasn’t particularly coherent for a while, even at just three days a week. I am in awe of my American colleagues who return to work three months after having their babies.
Wow.
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Oh, I agree that the U.S. is all backwards on the attitude towards breasts and breastfeeding. But I think also a lot of that comes from so many decades where women *weren’t* nursing their babies [at least not in large numbers].
I can’t imagine that my son or any of the sons of my long-nursing mommy friends are EVER gonna see breasts a “just” a sex thing. They are so used to seeing babies nurse, breasts are equated with food for babies in their minds. [My daughters too]. Breastfeeding is just “normal” to them [as it should be].
I think as more and more moms nurse their babies and reclaim breastfeeding as the norm, we will see a lot less of this crazy “It is OK to see naked breasts to advertise beer but NOT for nursing a baby! How Scandalous!” type attitude.
I wouldn’t have a problem nursing a friend’s baby [or her nursing mine as long as I knew her well enough to be positive she didn't have HIV or Hep]. I can’t say that the Steinbeck piece didn’t give me the willies though. LOL!
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Kirsty – I don’t think I could’ve gone back to work at one month if I didn’t have Dick home with my baby. He has always been a really good parent. He might forget items on my to-do list, but he is loving, kind, and patient (and remembers important stuff like feeding and diapering).
And he was just as excited as I was to have a baby. I’d come home from work, and he’d show me pictures he’d taken that day of really goofy things they’d done together. And I think he was also able to get a lot of reading and writing done, possibly because he wasn’t consumed with the “am I a good parent” stuff that sometimes takes too much of my time and energy. I don’t know if I could really explain it, but he didn’t see himself as a SAHD, so even when he’d take her to the playground, he wasn’t looking for adult contact, because he’d get that at work. I mean, he spent no time trying to construct an identity for himself as a SAHD, because caring for her was just one more thing he did at the time. Maybe I should learn from that.
As for sleep, Dick has always needed less sleep than me, and been a night owl, esp. at that time when he’d get writing something, so I’d pump right before going to bed, and he’d handle the first nighttime feeding. Also, Sally slept 5 hrs a night right away, and 8 hours pretty consistently by 6 weeks. Looking back, I have no idea why it was still so hard. (I think the sleeping was helped by the fact that she weighed 9lb 3oz at birth, and was 10 1/2 lbs by her 2 wk checkup).
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On the Steinbeck quote, yes, it is a little (lot?) weird. I do want to point out that he wrote it in 1939, at the height of the Great Depression, and that the adjectives he uses (rather than “nasty”) are “gaunt” and “starvin’ to death.”
Would I breastfeed an old man who was the kind of person who refused food so that his son would have something to eat? Who was far enough along in starvation that plain bread made him vomit? Who was surrounded by people who had no money for soup or milk?
I hope so.
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I miss breastfeeding… it is such a special time of our children’s lives. And EMPOWERING. I never felt so strong as after I had birthed a child and then sustained them MYSELF.
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Good for you. Good for Salma. Did you see the kerfuffle over at Her Bad Mother yesterday? All about this very thing.
http://badladies.blogspot.com/
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Sue – I wrote this post (which otherwise may have continued percolating for a good long while) after seeing HBM’s tweets about her experience.
I was impressed with how similar many of our feelings were about the idea and actuality of cross-nursing, but I was even more impressed (and slightly embarrassed by my own efforts, I confess) by her narrative. DANG can she write.
http://badladies.blogspot.com/2009/03/they-shoot-wet-nurses-dont-they.html (I’d skip the comments if you’re sensitive to vitriol)
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Funny that you posted this today. While at story time today, a good friend of ours was expressing his frustration that his wife insists on working, but is still breastfeeding/pumping for their child. He didn’t have enough milk in the freezer for the feedings today. I jokingly suggested that when “Tom” refuses the formula, to bring him on over for some milk, as like Jane, I always seem to have more than my baby needs. I know if my friend showed up, I would be more than willing to help out (unless it was during my nap time)
Thank you Jane, for once again a great discussion of such a sensitive subject for some.
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You’ve outdone yourself again. Really, sincerely. What a beautiful post. And once again something we have in common. I’ve breastfed all four of my boys, including my twins, for at least a year. And after the first week with my oldest it always came easily. And you explained perfectly what it’s like. It really is bonding for me. And also the main reason I want another baby. I lose weight when I’m pregnant and gain it all back when I’m nursing but it’s so worth it. I actually did read Grapes of Wrath one summer for my AP English and it was a very depressing but very touching and soul searching book. And I agree, I have always felt that if needed I could feed another baby. And I like to think that if there was any way I could save someone’s life, I would. Whatever it took. Thank you so much for the wonderful post.
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I enjoyed your post.
I was one of those moms that did not breast feed. I actually feel grateful that I never had the desire to breast feed, since I was unable to anyway. I think it made not being able to easier to deal with (long-short, I have MS and my meds were not breastfeeding friendly). I have though, never had a problem with others breast feeding in public, my husband & I both have always felt it was a beautiful & natural thing that society has turned into something wrong & dirty. I wish more women were vocal & brave enough to push subject.
And I must admit I was breast fed by not only my mother, but several of her sisters who had breastfeeding children at the same time. They looked at it as a blessing that they had ‘babysitters’ who could care for their children completely when needed. And I think I turned out okay. ;0)
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jane
i dont mean to get off the subject, but you seem a bit naive. no matter how sickly a man is, sucking on a woman’s breast, equals an erection, not nourishment.
and besides if there is no soup or milk around, the woman better save her calories and her breast milk for the baby, not waste it on some man. her instincts would have told her not to feed the man but to save it for the baby.
but then again it’s Steinbeck writing; he specializes in the disturbing…
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About how hard it is with your first, my SIL who’s had 5 said to me that it’s hard with the first, and then you get a second and wonder why you thought 1 was hard. Then the third is the same way- it’s harder and you wonder why you thought 2 was hard, but she said after the third, you are used to being outnumbered so it doesn’t get any harder nor easier. It might have something to do with the ages of the kids- I don’t know. But the first IS hard, and I’m sure the second is harder.
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Others may find this weird, but I always wanted to hire a wet nurse. I tried to breastfeed with my first child and horribly failed. The first experience was so bad that I didn’t even attempt breastfeeding with my youngest two.
I dont know why some people find breastfeeding gross. My mother did and so it was the bottle for all her kids. One of the sweetest moments, I believe, is the act of holding an infant and giving it natural nurishment.
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Cousin Sylwia – I don’t have any personal experience with succoring 50-ish starving men, but I tend to disagree. I think that starvation has a strong mental component, a shifting of priorities that has at times led to cannibalism, etc. Also, there are many illnesses/diseases that render men impotent (esp. in their fifties), and I can’t help thinking that serious starvation might be one such condition.
I also tend to think that this is meant to symbolize or promote humanity at its best, a sort of “love your brother as yourself” type thing.
I think the “broke in a window to steal a loaf of bread” thing was probably a reference to Les Miserables?
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It seems that more often than not those that breastfeed look down on those that do not and vice versa. If you do breastfeed it’s like this, “My nipples were cracking and bleeding and I got a lactation specialist and plowed through and conquered.” You might not say it but the same sentence could be read, “I’m a better mom because my nipples were cracking and bleeding but I plowed through and you gave up.” Or if you don’t breastfeed it might sound like this, “I respect those around me enough to not breastfeed in front of people.” But really you are saying, “Why don’t you have some decency? You are rude and gross.”
Both groups feels they have to defend their choice. You hear statements like, “I can’t/don’t breastfeed because….” or “I feel I should breastfeed in public because….” of course, not everyone feels this way. Not everyone feels their way is better than the other and not everyone feels they have to defend their decision. But it’s the same for the choice to stay home versus work, or for the choice to have a natural birth versus an epidural. Most people don’t come right out and say it but there usually seems to be an underlying feeling of judgement.
I have done both bottle-fed and breast-fed. I have gotten stares from people when I am in a public place feeding my baby with a blanket over me. I have gotten stares from people when I feed my baby a bottle in public. I have felt sad when my babies weaned themselves and I wasn’t ready to end that closeness. I have also felt those same sweet feelings when I am in a quiet room feeding my baby a bottle and he reaches up with his hand and plays with my hair or face. I still feel that I am the most important person to him. I gave birth to him and I’m feeding him and we are forming a lasting bond.
Does it really matter how we feed or children or take care of them if we love them? Should we feel guilty or defensive for the choices we make? Does it make me a bad mom if I can’t breastfeed my baby or don’t want to? Does it make me a bad person for breastfeeding my baby when ever they need it regardless of who is around or where I am? I don’t think so. I’m not sure why we as moms can’t just let people do things the way they think is best.
I’m not trying to offend anyone and I hope I haven’t. Maybe you are one of those people that honestly feels no guilt or judgement. I’ll admit that I have felt guilty and judgmental at times about these things. Anyway, it’s always interesting to me to hear the comments everyone has on this subject.
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“Maybe you are one of those people that honestly feels no guilt or judgement.”
I wish.
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Adrianne
you made some good points. i feel like the breastfeeding population is very judgmental of the non breastfeeding moms. often it’s not just breastfeeding but breastfeeding 100%. my fist two children i breastfed but i did not enjoy it. i know the experts would disagree but i did not have enough breast milk for my second son. i had pneumonia for 6 months and he was crying all the time. i finally put him on the bottle at 4 months and he became a very quiet and happy baby. my sister and sister in law were very disappointed with me for quitting.
i think my choice may have had some consequences because my second son is the only one who had health problems–asthma.
my last two children i enjoyed breastfeeding and i had a ton of milk. but I still let my husband feed them at night. i had no interest in waking up in the middle of the night, when my husband was willing to do it. and i dont like to pump, so they had formula at night.
i get disapproving sighs for that choice too, but like you said we all do things differently. i believe most moms who love and feed and take care of their children are good moms. once i read the book “the glass castle” I realized what a truly bad mother is. that book has helped me not to be so judgmental of us regular moms…
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This post made me cry. I loved nursing my kids and I’m sad I won’t ever have another baby to nurse. I loved the closeness and the convenience. There were times when I felt a little used, a little over touched but looking back I’m so glad I did it for as long as I did. I honestly felt proud to nurse my children. Like I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. What nature intended. Weird, I know.
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I’ve always thought I’d make a good wet nurse, too!
My goodness, when they were babies there was so much milk.
Many of the comments touched on that self reliant feeling that comes with breastfeeding and I think that was so important to me as a young mom. I definitely didn’t feel ready to be a parent when she was born, but watching my body know exactly what to do (after the initial painful period!!) was very empowering. I also marveled at how it was that I KEPT HER ALIVE and that as she grew, puny little Core’s newfound body mass had been created by me.
You know, I didn’t think I knew anyone who had breastfed another’s baby, but maybe I have other friends that have and I just don’t know it. I’ve always been curious if it would feel different, or if it would feel more difficult. I hop to have the pleasure of giving birth again, but if I ever adopted instead, I would love to breastfeed that baby.
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I like the self-reliance, empowering, confidence-giving aspects too.
This is a very difficult topic because I want to express how wonderful it was for me (not to even mention the baby’s health, etc), without passing judgement on women who can’t or don’t (for whatever reason). I don’t think choosing to breastfeed or not is a moral decision, but I do think that how we treat women who breastfeed (in public) and women who don’t breastfeed IS a moral decision.
And I know there are women who’ve breastfed adopted babies (after much preparation and herbs/hormones?) I’d think it would be (relatively) easier for a woman who has already breastfed to stimulate lactation again.
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Oh, and I have to say — I was SO DANG EXCITED when I saw Cousin Sylwia’s comment saying “you make some good points.” Because, OH MY STINKIN HECK, Sylwia was going to concede that I made a good point?
And then I read closer, and saw that she was saying that Adrianne made good points. (which she did, but STILL!!!)
I am devastated.
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I’m late the posting, but I think it is amazing how often this topic comes up and how heated the discussions get (I’m sure you saw the one awhile back on FemMormonHousewives).
I agree with what Adrianne said for the most part. I got a lot of “well if you’d just keep trying, breastfeeding will get easier” and “you should do it for the baby. think of how selfish you are by not breastfeeding”
Frankly, I hated it. I felt tied down and strapped to this little parasite who had already sucked the life out of me for 9 months. He had a hard time nursing anyway and that made it even worse. Don’t get me started on pumping. What a nightmare. I was constantly resentful of this little tiny guy just because neither one of us could work out a system.
It was a relief when I started using formula at two months and then stopped nursing completely at six. I was so much happier, with myself and with him. Sure I was a complete failure to every other nursing mom out there (“I nursed my son until he was two and i only stopped then because I was pregnant”) but I was finally able to enjoy my baby the way I should have been the whole time.
Sounds horrible, I know. But what can I say, I’m a terrible mother. Still he is a pretty robust, healthy guy now and stopping the nursing helped our relationship in ways most moms probably don’t understand.
I’m happy that most women nurse and I want them to feel comfortable doing it in public. The one time I did, I was mortified and embarrassed. Totally ashamed. I wouldn’t want anyone to feel that way. That said, I definitely appreciate the mom who covers herself. I don’t think it is the end of the world to throw a blanket over you and the baby.
Since I hated BF-ing I don’t think I could do the wet nurse thing. I don’t know really how to feel about it, but luckily for me, I won’t ever have to make that choice. If I have another baby, I’ll nurse two weeks tops. I’m not spending another six months resenting a little baby.
Most of all I think that moms/babies should do what works for them and damn the rest of the world who offer snide comments and glares.
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Oy! I so didn’t want to join this conversation but here I am.
I never breastfed – there it is I’m admitting it in public. My kids were bottle fed from the first day. My daughter was six weeks early, and couldn’t breathe. By the time she was stable enough to breastfeed the pain was unbearable, I was a wreck and within days we switched her to bottle. I never even tried to breast feed my son. Both of my children are VERY healthy having never once had an ear infection or the need of antibiotics and they are now 5 & 3.
I did feel judged for not breastfeeding – by pretty much everyone but my breastfeeding sister-in-law who readily acknowledged how difficult it was and that I should do what was going to make me and my baby happy. I did. I don’t regret it. It is very personal and neither camp is right, wrong or better. I feel very secure that I did the best thing for my kids who have ME as a mother. ME – they don’t have anybody else and as their mother this was the decision that was best for us. I’m cool with that. I don’t need anybody to approve, condone or stand by me and applaud.
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jane
your comment was really funny that i never acknowledge your points! i guess i usually want to continue a conversation, so if i have a differing opinion i share it. if i responded to the posts i agree with the conversation wouldn’t go anywhere…
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[...] said before, and I’ll say again — I’m not “pro-breastfeeding” per se. I breastfed my kids for 12, 14, and 17 months, and I enjoyed it. I don’t think mothers who [...]
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