*N.B. - I have only support for women who choose to not use their breasts to feed their babies, and also for women who cannot breastfeed, and I feel that the amazing health benefits clearly allow formula fed babies to enjoy great quality of life. However, this does not negate the need for this discourse. This does not negate the need for women to be able to use their bodies and make choices as they see fit. Such a change would only benefit mothers everywhere, in all their feeding choices and otherwise.*
I harbour a deep, dark secret: one that I don't share often within my natural parenting circles. I avoid breastfeeding in 'public' unless I am with fellow breastfeeders or with my husband.
Before I gave birth, my anticipations of breastfeeding were entirely skew whiff. I expected that it would be physically hard. I didn't imagine any emotional discomfort. My friends breastfed, seemingly comfortably, in public. I didn't give the act of breastfeeding in public a second thought. Breastfeeding was a normal act for me, before I gave birth.
Breastfeeding has been physically fairly easy for us. Emotionally it has been a rollercoaster. Early on - until my son was about three months old - I experienced D-MER (dysphoric milk ejection reflex, or negative feelings on let down). That was a surprise. I expected breastfeeding to be so rosy and lovey dovey. Before I gave birth, I dreamed of the cuddles, and the intimacy.
Less definable is the discomfort I felt around using my breasts for infant feeding. I desperately wanted to breastfeed. I had had a print of Picasso's 'Maternity' on my bedroom wall for almost seven years before I gave birth. I longed for it every day. To nurture and nourish my own tiny human.
When he arrived, I found it disgusting. And that is not an exaggeration. The act of him feeding repulsed me. We persevered. Now I find it lovely. He has always found it lovely and comforting, and he is very vocal about that. It is so very endearing, but in the early days, the need he had for it greatly discomforted me.
And I was somebody who desperately wanted to breastfeed. Before I gave birth.
While I was in this early, vulnerable state, my in laws made it very clear that they do not find breastfeeding normal. This was a total shock. I honestly and naively thought that all women wanted to breastfeed, that society was supportive of it, and that women who bottle feed couldn't breastfeed, or at least believed they couldn't breastfeed. I wasn't enjoying breastfeeding. And my in laws weren't enjoying me breastfeeding. All such a shock. Somehow, we established a narrative whereby feeding is disgusting and I do it in a separate room. And nowadays, when I am with them (which by necessity I try to be as little as possible, although I like them a lot and enjoy their company), I distract my son as much as possible or offer him solid food and water instead of milk.
I really despise myself for it. I make the call to do it for all sorts of reasons - namely because I want us to have good relations with my in laws, and especially because I want my son to have good relations with them, or at least that's what I tell myself. But it's also because I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder. I had a very angry childhood. I was bullied. I didn't feel heard, and I was taught that my body was shaming and disgusting. That it was fat, and unnatural, and that it needed to be hidden from the world. This led me to literally shout to feel heard. Except that I wasn't heard. And nowadays I don't like to force my opinion on people. It brings back those memories. And now I do feel heard, largely, so I don't have the same unmet need I did then. I'm embarrassed that I used to shout so much. I prefer to be quiet and placid, and to encourage peace within my life.
But I feel really angry about this issue. I feel angry that my mother - who breastfed my brother for two years - buys into this rhetoric and taught it to me. I feel angry that she thinks breastfeeding should be conducted in private. When my son was four months old, I fed him beside her on the sofa, and I noticed her disgust. I noticed that she left. I felt disgusting, and now I try to avoid feeding around her.
I feel angry that women are being lied to about their bodies. I feel angry that we do not have the same rights as men. I feel angry that babies do not have the same rights as men. I feel angry that patriarchal ownership of women is dictating the physical and emotional well-being of mothers and babies. (Breastfeeding: reduces the risk of postnatal depression, increases maternal sleep, reduces the risk of female cancers - if continued for over six months and reducing with every month it continues after that, increases the chance for mental well-being in babies, increases the likelihood that a baby will be well, decreases the chance for sudden infant death. Google it.) First and foremost, I feel angry that the ones who shoulder the blame for not breastfeeding are women. Go spend some time in our culture, and see if you want to breastfeed.
I see my body in a whole new way because I breastfeed. The early repulsion has died away, and I now see my breasts in a whole new way: as vehicles for baby feeding. And that happening has exposed the false way our culture views breasts. I see that breastfeeding is owning them for myself, for all womankind, and for the well-being of future generations. I see that we have as much right to use our body in any time or place as any man, and I see that the survival of the method of babyfeeding that is most beneficial for humanity - physically, sustainably, emotionally - depends upon it, entirely.
Before I gave birth, I employed so much judgement and shaming of women. I shamed those who fed beyond a year. I shamed those who bed share. I shamed those methods of parenting that are most conducive to breastfeeding and to maternal health and well-being.
Seeing my breasts in what I believe to be their true light - and as my son sees them - leads any need for parent-led weaning to melt away. My adventures in baby feeding have truly emancipated my body and my mind. If breasts are primarily intended for and respected for feeding, then child-led weaning is the norm. If children are believed to have needs equal to those of other human beings, then child-led weaning is the norm.
I tell myself that I am weak for not challenging the forces preventing me using my body in the way it is intended, but perhaps I should be proud. For continuing to feed my son through these challenges. For researching and reading and contemplating and allowing my mindset to change. For picking my own path through life. For overcoming the BPD. For choosing to live freely in spite of the bullying. For fighting for women everywhere, in the way that I am called to do. And I should not limit God. Just because I do not choose to feed in public now, does not mean that a time will not come when I can feed my child in front of my father-in-law without fear. As an equal.
Before I gave birth, I had never heard of the term 'mother-shaming'. Now I am aware of it, I see it employed everywhere: in discourse surrounding women who formula feed, breast feed, sleep train, don't sleep train, traditionally wean, baby led wean, return to work, stay at home, bed share, use a cot. And I notice the freedom that men have to make choices, free from judgment. To walk around topless. To pee at the side of the road. I notice how shameful women's bodies are seen to be.
(I love my father in law. He is a kind, shy and gentle man. Any advice on how to broach this subject with him (bearing in mind that I am also shy and gentle) is welcomed :-) )
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