On breastfeeding

If you’ve had even one conversation with me in the last two years, you know that I feel (talk) a lot about breastfeeding. I didn’t think I would be so gung ho before Antonia was born, but a little something just clicked and the rest is history. I think every mother has that matter they feel very strongly about, from cloth diapers to no TV before age 2, to no sugar ever, to Vegan diets etc. For me it’s breastfeeding. (Ok, I feel strongly about a lot of things, but this one is extra important). I have nursed Antonia in parks, restaurants, cafés, during concerts, in churches, and in other conspicuous places in the hopes that I would get one of those infamous dirty looks or requests to go do my obscene baby feeding in the bathroom. This has not happened, despite my having a treasure trove of snippy responses prepared and rehearsed for just such moments. I wish I could meet this woman for example: 

Example: Unpleasant person in my surroundings grossed out/uncomfortable at the idea that a child is feeding from a “sexual object”: “Would you mind feeding your child someplace more private?”

Me: “How about you tackle children’s access to the porn industry first and then take on us breastfeeding sluts?” (Then I would stay put). (P.S. I may never have the guts to say this, but I can dream!)

I’ve been wanting to write this blog for a long time because it is a subject that is close to my heart, and I feel now is the right time because I have decided I may now attempt to WEAN. So, in an effort to sum up my unique experience, you might find me becoming preemptively nostalgic.

A little history:

Because I suffered from a condition called cholestasis of pregnancy, (http://www.americanpregnancy.org/pregnancycomplications/cholestasispregnancy.html) I had to be induced two weeks before my due date and therefore missed the breastfeeding classes I had signed up for with the Lactation consultant at The Midwife Center of Pittsburgh. I was under the care of midwives, but chose to give birth at the hospital (I would have even under normal circumstances). The birth went swimmingly, it was so fast I even felt a little like the Roman Catholic mother in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life when a baby falls out while she’s doing dishes and she says to her older daughter, “Deirdre, could you get that?” (though I was NOT that blasé) 

Even without classes or any previous knowledge of how to nurse a newborn, I felt I got the hang of it rather quickly. There was a lactation consultant at the hospital who came by once to check that Antonia had latched properly and to show me how to hold her in the "football hold." I only saw her once and she gave me some strange information that I wish I had known wasn’t the law of the land. I believe that lactation support is one of the most important kinds of support we can give new mothers. Many women try and fail at breastfeeding only because they didn't have the kind of support or information they need. Though that was missing at the hospital, I made clever use of the internet to answer some of my most pressing questions.

Once home I quickly read up on how much Champagne I could potentially drink to celebrate the little person we had just brought home. On Kellymom.com I learned that if I can drive, I can nurse and so I have since stuck to 1-2 glasses of wine or beer until after she goes to bed. So I didn’t feel that it was going to “cramp my style” too much. I often wonder what makes women stop breastfeeding after they have started and I think that the fact that your body is not your own even after pregnancy probably has a big role in that decision. I for one have thought how nice it would be to sip at a scotch, or lose THE LAST 10 POUNDS of “baby” (extra dessert) weight that all other moms seem to lose 2 minutes after their babies are born. We're 16 months and counting! grrr.

One of Antonia’s nicknames is, appropriately “Booby barnacle” playing up the notion that a nursing mother is still a “host” to a “parasite.” (It sure is the cutest, most amazing parasite on the planet!)

Here I am like the mast of a ship encrusted with a booby barnacle, a purry and a furry. 

So everything was going well, or so I thought. At our 1-week pediatrician appointment, the Doctor was quite serious and concerned. Antonia was not gaining enough weight. I was obviously not producing enough milk. So he gave me a ton of formula samples and the card to the Breastfeeding Center of Pittsburgh and looked awkwardly away as I sobbed. The lactation consultants at the Breastfeeding Center were helpful, but didn’t do anything to ease my anxiety. I mean, I was crying every couple of minutes. Postpartum depression triggered by severe, severe anxiety at not being able to provide for my tiny little human.

Scrawny little shrimp before we got the support we needed

The easy thing would have been to supplement with formula. But I knew that if I started, it would keep my supply dwindling until it disappeared. You see, the less your baby nurses, the less you produce, and vice versa. I’m STUBBORN (surprise!) so I wasn’t going to let that happen. I knew I wanted to nurse for at least a year, not a few weeks, so I threw the formula samples in the trash, bought a spensy breast pump, lactation tea and supplements and got to work.

Chunkin up! Go breastmilk!

The main problem was that Antonia would fall asleep on the breast and just suckle, not getting any real nutrition and so my boobs didn’t know to produce more milk. So Guillaume and I had to keep her awake to nurse, rotating her arm, undressing her, and kissing her belly with a 2-day beard (not mine). After she had finished “eating,” I would pump the rest, tricking my boobs into thinking she had eaten more than she had. (Isn’t the human body weird?)

In this case mamas and papas are not quite equal.

Then Guillaume would give her a bottle of pre-pumped breast milk to “supplement” the nursing and adding to her intake in calories. Also, since it’s not as comforting to have a plastic nipple shoved in your mouth, she wouldn’t fall asleep on the bottle. We only had to do this for a few days. When we brought her back to the doctor, she had gained an ounce and a half a day! (Normal weight gain is an ounce a day). I was so relieved. I’m not saying it has been only easy since then, breastfeeding is hard work, and it takes commitment and drive. I had constant questions and concerns because things can change so quickly. I am so grateful for the telephone calls I got for the first 6 weeks from the Lactation consultant at the Midwife Center, Cheryl. She was awesome. Word to the wise: with an anxious new mom, you want to deflate her anxiety, not add to it. Some things she told me that helped immensely: spend as much time holding your baby as possible, don’t over-think things, women around the world have been doing this for centuries, in war zones and during famines! It isn’t until recently that some companies and their marketing teams decided they should get more people to BUY synthetic breast milk (imagine the CASH!) and made breastfeeding seem dirty, primitive, complicated, and replaceable.

Even with the hiccups (metaphorical, it’s actually a great way to get rid of hiccups!) it’s been the best experience I have had in my life (I am not exaggerating here) and I wish that more women had the support and willpower to choose to breastfeed, and stick with it for as long as the can. I have been lucky that since I am a grad student, my schedule is flexible and though I didn’t have a real maternity leave, I only had to leave Antonia for a couple of hours at a time for the first 8 months. I cherished the possibility to be there when she needed me. I know too many women, in the US and France in particular, who have to wean by three months because they aren't able to keep up a steady supply while working full time. For the women who want to continue, I feel very strongly that their companies, the government, their families, and the culture they live in should support them to be able to continue. 

The bonding is contagious!

Where would I be able to heat up a bottle up in Frick Park? 

Or here, hiking outside of Bozeman, MT?

Or here, at this charming Parisian café on the canal de L'ourcq? 

Or here, hiking Sabino Canyon outside Tucson, AZ?

As you can see, breastfeeding hasn't hindered me in any really inconvenient way.

I am most likely writing a paper about Gide's L'immoraliste here. Last spring semester was a toughy. Lots to juggle! Good thing new babies sleep a lot!

When I was at school, I would sneak into the bathroom and pump. I swear I ran into our childless professors every single time I was rinsing out the pump at the sink. Talk about awkward moments. But it was worth it! I stopped pumping a few months ago and have let my supply even itself out. Antonia eats everything and drinks cow’s milk now, so nursing is no longer for nutrition. It is, however, a magical way to comfort her, put her to sleep, and an instant painkiller for the many bumps she’s getting as she learns to run. When I have to leave her for a long period of time I feel I can make it up with a little extra closeness. 

Here I am again, post-UPenn conference at the children's museum. (Guillaume forgot to bring me pants to change into...)

I know every mother has different feelings about breastfeeding, some women hate it and only do it for their babies. Power to them! Some women have horrible pain while nursing and yet suffer through it. For something I have spent so much time doing in the past 16 months, I am lucky that I loved it.

That said—I have begun to feel like boob slave. During our recent trip to Montreal, Antonia went on a hunger strike, refusing to eat toddler food. Instead, she wanted to nurse EVERYWHERE, ALL THE TIME. 

Trying not to drip hot melted chocolate onto my nursing toddler.

That meant pounding on my chest and trying to bite her way through my shirt in embarrassing locations like the security line at the airport and at every restaurant. Since she’s not quite old enough to understand the idea of “waiting” I decided that maybe it would be best if by the next trip (July 1) she was mostly weaned. I’m not quite sure how to do it yet, but my tactic so far is “don’t offer, don’t refuse” and being in charge of when it is time to stop a particular feeding. (Any insight from other moms would be greatly appreciated.) 

So there you have it. My personal breastfeeding experience documented on the interweb for all willing 10s of readers to see. I have a feeling that I'll have to make my next blog about something terribly impersonal to even things out. Maybe something about shopping for ink cartridges for my printer? 

Woot woot! Just finished the first leg of the Pittsburgh Marathon!  Antonia wasn't impressed.