Breastfeeding: A Personal or Political Choice?

OK, so, the mere title of this post sounds absurd, right?  Of course breastfeeding is a personal decision, but you sure wouldn’t think so when you Google the term “breastfeeding.”  Just scan the results page and not only will you be inundated with soft-focus images of hot moms looking lovingly down whilst effortlessly nursing their perfect babes, you’ll also learn that the breast is best, breastfeeding is a womanly art, and that the boob is better not only for your babe but, incidentally, for your own heart as well. 

 

You will not, however, see search results that include terms such as bosom burnout, sleepless nights, and difficulty returning to work or spousal resentment.  All that is couched in the “support” sections (if it’s even addressed, that is) of the fervent pro-breastfeeding propaganda that dominates what seems to me like a pretty politicized “discussion” of breastfeeding. 

Add to the debate a recent article (among the 15 or 20 published each year) in the April 2009 issue of the Atlantic by Hanna Rosin, “The Case Against Breastfeeding,” which argues breastfeeding has had a large part in marginalizing women and their careers and has dubious benefits anyway.  Oh, and the April 22, 2009 New York Times article by Roni Caryn Rabin “Breast-Feeding Benefits Mothers,” and you start to get an idea of how very preoccupied our society is with boobs—beyond Baywatch, that is. 

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised given that everything about women is politicized, from our wombs to our boobs to the length of our hair and skirts; we are sacred vessels, after all (though not sacred enough to pay equally).  But even so, I find myself, to say the least, much abashed.  And, while not wishing to make a case against breastfeeding—for I’ve certainly done a lot of it and have more to look forward to—like Hanna Rosin, I am fed up with what some have dubbed the “Breastfeeding Establishment,” or the “Breastfeeding Conspiracy.” 

The “Breast is Best” push has crossed the line from support to pressure and it now so permeates the breastfeeding dialogue that, upon implantation of your darling embryo, you will immediately find yourself being pressed by your OBGYN, your pediatrician, the media, your mother-in-law and the lady behind you in the checkout line to breastfeed.  Worse, once your kid can finally sit up and you’re going out of your mind looking for things to do, you might join a play group, where you’ll be hard-put to ignore the palpable silence, raised eyebrows and disapproving glances that ensue when someone announces they’ve weaned their child before one year, or THE HORRORS, fed their child the poison otherwise known as formula from the get-go. 

Case in point, now expecting my second babe, and totally exhausted by the double whammy of simultaneous early pregnancy and breastfeeding, I set out to wean my dear boy from his mommy milk supply around 13 months.  Having never taken a bottle, he fought the replacement of his first two feedings and his weight had a scary drop, so it was somewhat traumatic for us both, but in the end, mostly for me. 

When I decided to wean, naturally, I sought out advice and information on how to do it—previous attempts to introduce the bottle had resulted in red-faced roaring, fist waving and ear-piercing wailing that usually dissolved into pathetic gasps and sobs.  All I found in the cannon of breastfeeding literature was either completely trite and over-simplified advice: “First drop the least important feeding, wait three to four days, then drop another,” the end.  As if it’s that simple, particularly if you’ve followed all the commonly accepted breastfeeding advice heretofore, including feeding on demand, letting the baby “set his own schedule,” waiting until 6 weeks to introduce a bottle, etc.  Or I found weaning “advice” with an obvious agenda to guilt me into breastfeeding EVEN LONGER.  Check out the Amazon.com reviews of the virtually useless (unless you want to breastfeed ‘till your kid is 5 years old) The Nursing Mothers Guide to Weaning to get an idea of what kind of “support” you’ll be getting should you choose to purchase that book.

So, saddled with the information (and guilt) that my son probably just wasn’t ready to wean, I also developed a guilt complex for having put my boy, and myself, in a situation whereby he was only comfortable and happy receiving milky sustenance from me personally in the first place.  His staunch refusal to ever take a bottle, for which, of course, there is no really good advice, translated into a number of negative outcomes for my husband and me: no shared responsibility for night wakings; no non-family member babysitters (would you trust a stranger with a wailing baby who can only be soothed with a boob?); no date nights, etc. to name just a few.  I say guilt for the position I put my boy in, but there was also resentment for the position I had put myself and my husband in, which resulted in more guilt—for the resentment.    

With no thanks to breastfeeding advocates, we finally just fought through weaning, like, tooth-and-nail-style.  Ultimately I just decided this was game day and I was going to win.  It took about eight weeks, but finally my boy got used to a sippy cup and being cuddled while watching Sesame Street, but I continued to grapple with feelings of straightforward mommy-guilt and also with feelings of guilt for not feeling very guilty.  I was ready to quit.  I’d been ready to quit.  In fact, for the last three months of breastfeeding, I had sometimes been so annoyed with it that I found myself cringing or pulling away from my dear son on occasion, which I also, of course, felt really guilty about. 

Where did all this guilt come from?  Prior to the birth of my boy wonder, I resided, like many of my generation, on Planet Me.  Guilt wasn’t even a functioning word in my vocabulary, so truly this is an anomaly in my life.  But as we know, parenthood is wrapped up with all kinds of idealized conceptions of what a mom should be, and I believe breastfeeding advocates are preying on those sentiments.  The second I held my child in my arms, or maybe sooner, maybe when I saw his tiny heart beating on ultrasound for the first time, my lifelong quest for self-gratification pretty much took back seat to the miracle that is him.  It was a monumental shift in my thinking, in my whole reality, that really didn’t need any help from an organized breastfeeding “establishment” geared towards pushing and guilting me into doing the best for my offspring. 

Don’t get me wrong, I do believe there’s an important place for breastfeeding support and advocacy—breastfeeding certainly isn’t as easy, or as accepted, as you might think.  But I wish advocacy were less adamant and the support were more realistic, more practical, more mother-centric and less (sacrilege, I know!) baby-centric. 

I’m not arguing that breastfeeding is just another anti-feminist shackle to slap us chicks with, but enough is enough.  If the expectations the establishment has set up are making me, previously one of the world’s most self-centered people and someone who breastfed for 13+ months feel guilty, what are we doing to moms who just can’t or don’t want to breastfeed?  It’s either time for a new discourse on breastfeeding or an end to the discussion altogether.  We get it.  The information is out there, we understand the breast is best (though in truth that’s really up for debate).  How about the breastfeeding establishment works harder on turning the screws on employers, compelling them to provide more than a public bathroom stall as a pumping room, say, and let us intelligent, competent, sacred vessels take our boobs from here on out.  And moms, let’s go easy on each other.  Being a mother is probably the best job you’ll ever have, but it’s tough enough on the ego and breastfeeding is a personal, not a political, choice. 

Comments

[Asha]

Amen! I read Hanna's article in the Atlantic Monthly and can't tell you how glad I am to see discussions about breastfeeding take on a subtle but different direction. Well-stated, M!

[rachel]

GREAT Post!!! I think you said it all. I was shocked after my first to see the divides among mothers - breastfeeding vs. non-breastfeeding - working vs. stay at home - natural birth vs. medication vs. c-section. I found it all a little sad.
One way isn't always best and we should judge another women for her choices because they may have been difficult for her to make.
With my second I ended weening earlier (9months) then my first (15months) I felt guilty but then also a little free - no pumping - no worry if I didn't have enough milk stored.
Anyway - wonderful post.

[S]

Sing it sister! Nice post, M.

xoxo
S

[Mike]

I'm a dad of an amazing breast-feeding,co-sleeping 16 month old and it always surprises me when my wife and I get criticized by strangers and friends alike. It often appears that these people are more offended or threatened then concerned. I'll admit that before my boy was born I laughed at the whole notion of co-sleeping and couldn't fathom my wife
breast-feeding past a year. But oh how things change when you're in the thick of it. Bottom line is these decisions are between my wife,my boy, and myself; and these decisions couldn't feel more right...for us.

And that's the point. I think the breastfeeding movement, with all its "rules" has become conventional wisdom. People (I call them the herd) love to follow without a moment of thought. So thanks for the article M. Thanks for trying to inspire others to step away from the herd and think for themselves and support others who are doing the same.

[Glossolaliac]

I agree with you generally, but I also think that breastfeeding is still political - whether you want it to be or not.

My comments here: http://glossolaliac.typepad.com/glossolaliac/2010/01/suck-on-this.html