No longer locked: Breastfeeding

This post was public, then private, then public again, because I didn't want to rub salt into any wounds. It's staying public now. It's about why I love to breastfeed, and always have.

http://www.livejournal.com/users/ailbhe/238969.html

Breastfeeding: And now the judgemental bit

Breast is best.

A mother's own breastmilk is the healthiest possible food to feed a baby.

Every mother should try to feed her baby this way. An honest, wholehearted try.

I need to say this because it's true, and I didn't mention it in my last big entry. The evidence is there. It's the best thing to do. And, for most of the world, it's the normal thisng to do.

I don't have statistics to hand, and no-one pays me to write this stuff, so I'm not taking the time to look it up. But I have heard - and I find it upsettingly easy to believe - that almost a third of babies born in the UK never have their mother's nipple in their mouth. Even if I'm wrong, and it's only a tenth, that's just so sad. The numbers for babies whose mothers do try aren't great, either - by the time they are nine months old, only about 10% of babies are still being breastfed. That's sad, too. The biggest fall-off is in the first two to four weeks, I believe - because that's when it's hardest.

We've sort of been lied to. We're told that birth is a beautiful natural sharing caring bonding experience, and it is, yes. But it's also hard, painful work. This doesn't mean that a natural home-birth isn't worth working for. It does mean that it's going to be work, and it will hurt, and even afterwards it will hurt at least some, even days afterwards. And we've been told some very similar lies about breastfeeding.

I say that I had no trouble learning to breastfeed. That's not entirely true. Linnea had no trouble learning to breastfeed. I had less trouble learning to breastfeed than, say, sitting up after the birth. But it had its downsides. It hurt - my uterus hurt, my nipples hurt, my wrists hurt from the weight of a baby. And as I learned to do it better, it didn't hurt any more. It helped a lot that I had small breasts and nipples, and Linnea had a big mouth and a strong suck.

While it hurt, I knew it was something I wanted to do. I grew up assuming that everyone breastfed their babies all the time. I knew that babies had bottles, but I had no clear idea of where in the picture they fitted in - a bit like my early ideas about pantyliners, as distinct from sanitary towels, actually, but let's not go into that. And I had my mother, who breastfed 5 babies for increasingly longer periods of time as she gained confidence to defy her doctors, to tell me that the levels of pain were pretty normal and that it would get better.

And we knew Linnea was getting enough because she spat gallons back out again, at least until we sorted the milk intolerance thing.

And after a while - not a long while, but I can't remember when it was - breastfeeding became the high point of my day. I would sit watching her, waiting for her to wake up so that I could feed her, alone in the room with my baby and the spring sunshine coming in the window, maybe watched by a cat. It was idyllic. Now it's maybe not the high point, but it's wonderful to me. She comes to me hungry and thirsty, tells me with her hands and her face and her little pre-speech noises (Hands: milk sign, and vigorous waving. Face: Outright greed and anticipation. Noises: "Ada! Mama! Mum mum mum mum. Mum.") and even climbs onto my chair and pulls up my shirt, if I think it's amusing to make her work that hard for it.

She looks at me during feeds; she'll look sideways up at me as she lies across my lap, and, her mouth full of nipple, laugh while trying to maintain feeding. It doesn't always work, but it's always gorgeous. She pulls away and looks at me with intent, questing eyes. I don't know what she's looking for. She puts her hands in my mouth to try to find it. Then she latches on again. She turns around mid-feed to see why Rob has suddenly left the room; "Dadda!"; and settles back down when I tell her "Back soon." She pulls away and slides down when she's full, and blows raspberries on my tummy.

And I melt into a big maternal pile of lovestruck goo.

Sigh.

And that's how we'll persuade people to breastfeed. By letting them know it's normal. By showing them the good sides as well as the bad sides from a totally selfish perspective. Not from a think of what's best for your baby perspective. Anyone who was going to start because of that has already decided to start. The remaining third aren't being convinced by the science.

But this'll convince them: breastfeeding is so much fun, I gave up chocolate ice-cream. And I'd choose breastfeeding again, any day I was offered the choice.