More than Nutrition is at Stake
Oct 14 '00
In my mind, there is no debate. Mothers must do whatever helps to make them the best parent – whether that means feeding by breast or by bottle.
Nutritionally, there is no debate. Breast milk is easier for babies to digest, causes fewer problems with allergies, and provides beneficial immunities for the baby. Formula simply cannot compete.
However, sometimes motherhood goes beyond nutrition. Breastfeeding can be one of the most joyful experiences a woman can have. It can also be a time-intensive overwhelming chore. It all depends on the mindset of the mother.
While some would argue that a good mother would sacrifice the time and effort required to ensure that her child got the best possible nutrition, I propose that it’s not quite that simple. Some women are physically incapable of breastfeeding. Still others are emotionally not up to the dedication and effort it requires. If the effort required to breastfeed causes the mother to resent the child, or to withdraw emotionally – that is simply too great a cost for better nutrition.
At this point, you have probably pegged me as anti-breastfeeding radical. In fact, the opposite is true. I have breastfed all four of my children. Therefore, I know precisely the work and the emotional commitment that is required.
It was an effort that I made willingly for the most part. Despite my willingness, there were times when the fact that breastfeeding required me to give so much of myself became almost overwhelming. I cannot imagine how intrusive breastfeeding must feel to those who are doing it merely because they are told that they should.
What many people do not understand is that breastfeeding is not simply placing a nipple in a baby’s mouth and sitting back until the child finishes eating. It can take time and practice before breastfeeding becomes a relaxing, pleasant bonding time with a baby. Initially, breastfeeding can actually be a stressful struggle. Some mothers never make it past that initial struggle. I almost didn’t with my first child.
My oldest daughter was born in Egypt when I was 19 years old. To say that I didn’t know what I was doing would be an understatement. To this day, I am not sure how she and I survived her infancy.
I breastfed my oldest primarily because my former husband expected me to. In his culture, that was the way it was done. I had never really known a mother who breastfed; therefore, I really had no idea what was in store.
Over and over, I read the one resource I had available to me. A fellow American living in Egypt had photocopied The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding for me. This book alternated between being a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it alone offered the technical details of how to go about breastfeeding. A curse because in its zeal for the subject, it often left me feeling inadequate for being “less” than the earth mother it wanted me to be.
Breastfeeding my oldest didn’t start out easy. It was a struggle for almost the first three months of her life. More than once I begged my ex to let me quit, but he wouldn’t allow it. At times I cursed his name, but I think in hindsight it is one of the better things he did for me. For after the third month, I wondered why anyone would want to use a bottle.
But during those first three months, I felt like I had no time for me . Every two hours, and sometimes more often, my daughter wanted to nurse. During that time, I had to drop what I was doing and feed her. Nobody could do it for me; I was on my own. Every time I sat down to eat a meal, the baby would cry to be fed. She was in bed with me at night, and nursed frequently. There were times during those first three months when I was exasperated and so tired of motherhood that I could scream. Often, during those first months, breastfeeding felt more like a ball and chain holding me down than a joyful maternal experience.
Luckily, babies grow. I learned in time that babies eventually stop needing to be fed so often. I learned to balance time for myself with the needs of my daughter. I ceased resenting the time it required, and grew to recognize how it simplified my life.
With my subsequent three children, I never doubted that I would breastfeed. I realized that once the initial rough time was over, it made my life much easier. Breastfeeding meant no bottles to wash and sterilize, no formula to buy and prepare, and no getting out of a warm bed in the middle of the night to warm a bottle.
My oldest never had a bottle. She breastfed until she was 18 months old. My life was very different then. My daughter never had a sitter, I never worked, and I seldom left the house. When my ex and I did get out, the baby went along. Breastfeeding in public was never an issue. I learned to be discrete, and my ex was supportive. However, things were different with my other three.
By the time my son was born, my first marriage was already in trouble. We had moved back to the United States, and finances were tough. In addition, I was growing increasingly dissatisfied with life as a stay at home mom. In order to help our finances and save my sanity, I started college when my son was 8 months old. While I was at school during the morning, my son had a bottle. Some militant mothers would say that I was wrong to give that bottle of formula to my baby. I say that bottle meant the difference between me feeling trapped and resentful at home with the baby and being fulfilled and happy as a mother and as a person.
I learned that compromise is possible. With my youngest two girls, I breastfed exclusively until the babies were three months old and I returned to work. Once I returned to work, the girls were given formula while at their sitter, and breastfed at home.
Breastfeeding has worked for me for three main reasons. First, after my first child, I understood that breastfeeding was indeed easier than bottles. Second, I learned to breastfeed in a culture that was accepting. Third, I learned that giving a baby a bottle of formula doesn’t mean I failed. It means that I found a working compromise that balances being a loving mother and being a fulfilled individual.
Breastfeeding is a personal choice. It is an act of love and nurturing to a child. It is a gift that should be given freely, not because it is expected. Having seen how much of myself I was required to give to breastfeed successfully, I could never fault any woman for recognizing that breastfeeding wouldn’t be right for her. A woman knows how much of herself she can afford to give both physically and emotionally. A bottle isn’t a crime. No one should be made to feel that it is.
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