Parenting Without A License

All I’m Saying About the Boobs

Posted by Kimberly on October 10th, 2007 — Posted in Diva Girl, Zen Baby, Kipple, Oncology Odyssey

Even though I breastfed The Zen Baby into preschoolerhood, finally weaning her around 40 months, I don’t consider myself a lactivist. I don’t believe that formula is poison, that silicone nipples make the baby Jesus cry, or that bottles mean braindamage. I do, however, believe that “breast is best” and that no woman should be made to feel ashamed of the choice to feed her child according to her conscience.

I have a been a bottle feeder and a nursing mother, and I don’t think one choice was more right than the other. Each decision was dictated by circumstance, and was made with the best interests of that particular child in mind.

I tried to breast feed Diva Girl, but threw in the nursing towel after about three months. It just didn’t work for us, and we were both happier and more relaxed once I finally admitted that and stopped trying to force both of us into a dynamic that just didn’t work. Diva Girl on breast milk was a fussy, uncomfortable, unhappy baby with the worst case of acne I have ever seen. For her, the switch to formula was magical. Suddenly, I had a happy, content infant in my arms rather than a flailing, angry demon. I threw away my cheap, uncomfortable nursing bra, gave away the expensive yet awkward breast pump, and started buying formula by the case at Costco. I’ve never looked back.

Clearly, my experience with The Zen Baby was the polar opposite. With Zen Baby, the issue wasn’t the boobs, it was the bottle. I taught summer school when she was 4 months old–when she was busily growing the tumour that would cause so much heartache, but before it had made its insidious presence in her belly known. During the month I worked, Regan nursed all night and refused all forms of nourishment during the day–it didn’t matter that the bottle contained the exact same nectar that mommy provided, she wasn’t having that thing in her mouth.

Tired, frustrated, and at a loss of what to do with my tiny girl, I consulted our pediatrician, who advised me to stop nursing the 4 month old baby altogether.
“Starve her for a couple of days,” she advised, handing me a free sample of formula. “She’ll finally give in and take a bottle.” I smiled and thanked her for her advice, privately vowing to ignore, or at least modify it.

During the day while I was at work, my mom worked hard at getting a bottle into Regan. Once I got home in the afternoon, she pretty much latched on and stayed there for the rest of the night. And still, her weight gain dropped to ounces, not pounds. The medical solution? Once again, “stop breastfeeding.” This time, however it wasn’t offered as a convenience solution, but as a medical necessity shrouded in blame and judgement. Clearly, my boobs were defective. The baby was starving to death, and it was all my body’s fault.

Again, I declined to follow the doctor’s advice to the letter; I began feeding Regan solid foods, but I also, against her recommendation, continued to nurse her. I did the same thing two months later when I was advised by another doctor to give up breast feeding because “she didn’t need it anymore.” and place Regan on a high fat diet. Had I followed that advice, at best, Regan would have suffered far more lasting effects from her tumour, as it starved her body of nutrients–primarily the fat I was directed to feed her–and severely limited her stomach capacity.

I truly believe that breastfeeding saved my daughter’s physical and emotional health, first by providing her overtaxed system with easily digestible nutrients, and then by giving her traumatized little psyche the safe haven and comfort it needed to heal. And that’s why I’m joining in today. Not because I think bottles are bad, but because I think children have a right to what they need to thrive, and that mothers have a right to provide it for them without shame, ridicule, or judgment.