Breaking a Military Taboo: Public Breastfeeding in Uniform

Breasts are trending again. This time, the controversy comes not because the bare breasts are attached to babies, but because they are attached to babies and military uniforms. Apparently, several people were so offended by the photos posted on a Washington State blog for breastfeeding military moms  that they compared the images to public urination and defecation in uniform. Thankfully, the military had a more measured reproach. Air National Guard Spokesperson Captain Keith Kosik responded to the photos by saying that the military had no problem with female soldiers breastfeeding. He stated, however, that the breastfeeding going on in these particular photos violates “regulations to use the uniform to promote a civilian cause”. On the surface, I don’t have a beef with the military’s stance on this one. Soldiers do strip themselves of their identity and replace it with a uniform when they join the armed services. That’s why it’s called a “uniform”, right?

But then I started wondering why breastfeeding is considered a “cause” in the first place. Comparing breastfeeding to a cause is like saying that breathing is a belief. And in case you find this comparison strident, I can guarantee you that, if you pulled the offending babies in the photos off the breast for a moment, they would protest loudly enough to assure you that they agree with me. So let’s try it out: “the breathing going on in these particular photos violates regulations against using the uniform to promote a civilian cause.” It sounds ridiculous, doesn’t it?

Unfortunately, though, breastfeeding isn’t considered something essential in this country. It has been reduced to a belief; and the military isn’t to blame for this fact. After all, the women in the photos were promoting breastfeeding in the Mom2Mom blog. I doubt they intended to create such a stir, though. What I think they were trying to say is “hey, look how unexceptional breastfeeding is” or, in other words, “relax, it’s just a boob”. It’s ironic that women have begun calling attention to themselves precisely because they want to be able to do something without calling attention to themselves. The phrase “Don’t Tread on Me” comes to mind. If I’m not mistaken, a whole revolution started because of this principle.

On Your First Birthday

Dear Claire,

My greatest joy is witnessing your growth and becoming. And how you’ve grown! When you fall asleep on my chest, your 20 plus pound body feels substantial relaxing against me. Your arms and legs have stretched out, and I have watched the world expand to match you. Your hands can now clutch mine, eat, wave, point and reach for the sky with great delight. You have become a person with moods and a sense of humor. Your face moves from emotion to emotion – the best of which is a huge, bright smile that shows off eight newly cut teeth. Words have begun to come with your personality too – mama, papa, baby, cat, clock, bus and hi. You respond big to the world, and the world is generally eager to join in your enthusiasm. I have seen you draw out even the most stubborn New Yorker on the elevator or the subway. This outgoing nature did not from me. Be like your papa in this way! Keep your papa’s strong voice full of emotion too. And speaking of papa, I love watching you love him. The way you cry out to him with an “OH”, and then climb over anything in your way to crawl to him with great earnestness. You protest equally strongly when he disappears out the front door, emotion always close to the surface. I feel honored that you seek comfort in me then. I consider it the greatest job I will ever do to hold you in my arms when you cry. It’s an equal privilege to reflect your triumphs back to you too – when you climb up the stairs for the first time or say a new word or try a new food. For now, it’s more likely for me to be cheering you on than giving you comfort. That’s because your head is so hard – impervious to the various falls and bumps that happen throughout the day. Your head isn’t the only thing that’s hard. You are a determined little girl who does not give up easily. But you also don’t seem to fret for long when things don’t go your way. It’s a refreshing combination – this determination and resilience, like a tree that bends in the wind. I like this about you. I think both qualities are due to your curious nature. One moment: fully absorbed in figuring something out, the next: on to something equally intriguing about the world. So many people have commented on how engaged you are in the world. Right now you are interested in people, elevator buttons, eyelashes, water, keys, credit cards, necklaces, zippers, lights, clocks, airplanes, helicopters, buses, birds. I can’t wait to see what else will attract your interests. I believe there is a daredevil in you. Already, you sing to the sky when we push you high on the swings. You kick and splash in the water in the swimming pool. You scream in delight when your papa holds you upside-down. I hope that you will continue to be a food adventurer too. You delight in smearing the daily offerings around your high-chair tray, smashing things, rolling them in our fingers, testing a bit first before diving in, without fail making a big mess and then not enjoying being cleaned up. You don’t like being changed or getting dressed either, or having your nails cut or bows put into your hair. I have come up with games and songs to distract you. You’ve always loved listening to me sing; you freeze and concentrate on my face as if something serious were happening. Sometimes my stalling tactics work; sometimes we get into power struggles. I wouldn’t change this willfulness about you, though. Continue to know what you like and don’t. Continue to protest a bit too. In this way, you have helped me develop patience and how to calibrate my anger. It is never your job to teach me anything, just an added bonus for me when you do.

I have written this letter to you, because I am humbled to watch you slowly reveal yourself to me. I want to record my impressions of you, because they make my heart full. I hope you will someday read this letter and be able to see yourself through my eyes. They are loving eyes, intent on celebrating you on this day and always.

Love,
Your Mama

Time Breastfeeding Article: Whose Body is It?

As a breastfeeding blogger, I have felt compelled to comment on the recent Time article about Attachment Parenting and breastfeeding toddlers, as well as the controversy surrounding it. It’s taken me awhile, though, because I’ve struggled to collect my thoughts on the matter. Personally, I found the images of women breastfeeding their three-year-olds to be both shocking and beautiful. I tend to like things that put me slightly off-balance. I am reminded that much of what we “should” and “shouldn’t” do is culturally constructed and shifting. I am reminded that if what a person does isn’t hurting anyone, then it’s really none of my business.

But, after reading the reactions to this article, evidently, most people do feel that extended breastfeeding is hurting people -- mother, child and society at large. I was stunned by the viciousness of the comments. People called these women perverse, unnatural and disgusting, among many other cruel judgments. The quality of the criticism smacked of that which is unjustly waged against the LGBT community all too often. I felt defensive. I wanted to get into the fray, defend these women. After all, I’ve done my research. Anthropologists put the age of weaning in societies throughout history and around the world at anywhere between age two and a half to seven. Who are these people to argue with this research? People’s comments were dismissive of this statistic too. Evidently, our society is better than the others. The story goes that we are a “civilized” country, while theirs are primitive. I realized that I really didn’t want to waste my time arguing about it (even though I kinda just did). I don’t want to fight about who’s right or wrong. No one is. The issue is about personal choice.

So I decided to get personal. What I’d really like to talk about is the relationship that Claire and I have to one another, and our relationship to breastfeeding. To put it simply, Claire loves to breastfeed. She comes to me around eight times a day (or more) with the words “mama, mama”. When Claire says “mama”, it means she wants to breastfeed. The milk and I are one and the same to her, inextricably bound. How could I possible take that away from her? Especially when she is an age at which she really wouldn’t understand why I was depriving her of me.

I have also noticed an interesting inverse relationship between breastfeeding and independence. Claire used to breastfeed every hour, even at night (much to my dismay). As she grows more independent, the number of times she breastfeeds decreases. As she grows up, she needs me less. There seems to be an uncanny correspondence between these two things with its own rhythm, which I don’t want to disturb. And I have good faith that Claire will let me know how much emotional attachment she needs from me and; therefore, how much breastfeeding she needs.

To sum it up, breastfeeding serves a purpose for Claire and me that’s greater than nutrition. Still, I don’t plan on breastfeeding until Claire is three or four, like the women in the article. I do support their choice though. For me, quite frankly, I find breastfeeding to be too challenging. My decision to stop has more to do with me than Claire. I carried her in my belly for nine months, and plan on breastfeeding until she is around two (the age recommended by the World Health Organization , by the way). I am ready to have my body back.

Plus, at two, I figure she will be old enough to understand why we are stopping. George’s friend Kristen has led the way for me on this decision. She shared with George that she and her daughter Nora had a conversation (at two) about how and why mama needed to stop. They cried together and that was the end of breastfeeding. I’m grateful that Kristen has blazed this trail for me. If she hadn’t, I might be feeling like a pervert or sicko right about now. Instead, I get to envision an experience similar to Nora and Kristen for Claire and me.

Kraft Breastfeeding Ad: Cookies and Milk

This ad is creating quite a stir. Kraft corp. put out an official statement distancing themselves from it by saying the ad was not meant for public consumption (pun intended).

I would like to think that the distasteful part was that an infant was eating an Oreo. I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m wrong. Silly me; I forgot that breasts are best served up to sell Sports Illustrated magazines or are considered in good taste when used to prop up Victoria Secret lingerie.

I think it’s high time we let babies in on the fun too!

But seriously, I agree that Kraft shouldn't be creating any advertising campaigns like this one in the near future. I'm not ready for these ads either. I'm glad that Corporate America finds it too controversial to co-opt breastfeeding to sell product.

Thanks, But No Thanks.

When you are pregnant or have a new baby, people are quick to share their minds. They hope to be helpful. But it can't be helped that their opinions are oftentimes contrary to your particular parenting philosophy. Their ideas almost always have merit. Yet the soundness of their suggestions does not mitigate the fact that most are unsolicited. Sometimes, their offerings barely hide criticism of how you have chosen to parent your child. I have found that the counsel can be divided into three categories, depending on its particular leaning:

CATEGORY ONE: BEWARE THE NANNY STATE or

“It won’t kill said child, if she”:

1) has a little sugar/salt/fried food/white bread

2) watches TV

3) has a little whiskey/wine on the gums to get through teething

4) has a little whiskey/wine/oatmeal or rice cereal in the bottle to put her to sleep

5) misses a few naps

6) goes to bed at any hour of the night

7 )sits in a car seat all day

8) sleeps in a crib

CATEGORY TWO: LIVE FREE OR DIE or

“She will be more independent if she”:

1) gets used to a babysitter

2) goes to daycare

3) hangs out in the arms of strangers/gets used to other people

4) is left to cry by herself/cry herself to sleep/learns to self-soothe

5) sleeps in a crib

CATEGORY THREE: PHRASE YOUR JUDGMENT IN THE FORM OF A QUESTION

1) Wouldn’t she sleep at night if you stopped breastfeeding at night?

2) When do you plan to stop breastfeeding?

3) Wouldn’t it be less messy if she ate jarred foods instead of table food?

4) Isn’t she going to choke on that apple/sweet potato fry/green bean?

5) Wouldn’t she sleep better in a crib?

Really, I don't mind the advice. What I do mind is the general lack of openness to my response. I have thought long and hard about all of these topics, and have reasons for my choices that I would be happy to share.

Well, actually, I take that back. There are times I mind the advice: when it is given by someone without children (unless they are or were a nanny). A child in the abstract is a lot different than one in the flesh and blood.

But the reality check of babies and parenthood is a whole nother post entirely.

Photo Source: Daquella mannera, Flickr

Pink Eye and Breast Milk: Panacea

George had some of my breast milk. He put it in his eye. Yes, you read that correctly. He was suffering from pink eye, so I googled “Homeopathic remedies and Conjunctivitis”. Breast milk was listed as a remedy, next to honey, salt and belladonna. We didn’t have any belladonna on hand; however, we were not lacking for breast milk.

So I did some more research, which gave new meaning to the word “nursing”. Evidently, moms have been treating pink eye with breast milk for centuries. Today, even doctors are recommending it. What’s more, breast milk is touted as a cure-all for all kinds of ailments, from ear infections to eczema to minor scraps and scratches. And get this; according to some provocative research out of Scandinavia, it may even cure cancer! These miraculous healing properties are due to the antibodies in breast milk that have been shown to kill bacteria and viruses.

Unfortunately, our own homespun experiment into the curative powers of my particular variety of breast milk didn’t last very long. George quickly abandoned this tactic for a trip to the dark side of Western medicine. Oh, well. I was a bit disappointed. I wasn’t surprised, though. Putting Drano in his eye would have been less complicated than his wife’s breast milk. I also realized that I’ve come as close as I ever will to having a super power! And that if breast milk can do all of those things, imagine what it’s doing for Claire? I may not be restoring George to health or saving Gotham City, but I’m content to stick with growing a healthy baby girl.

Potty City

A Puzzle: The following tale contains public nudity and sneaking through hotels, but is appropriate for a G rated sensibility.

First, some back story: When Claire was about four months old, our meal at a midtown diner was cut short by Claire’s explosive poop and a bathroom not fit for mankind. We hit the pavement with a poo-seeping baby in search of a restroom…

Slinking into the Parker Meridien hotel, I spy the ladies room just left of check-in. Opening the door, we confront an abundance of marble, but no changing table. Deflated, we turn around and run into a woman wearing a tag marked “Marketing Manager”.

“Can I help you?” she asks politely.

I think, “Nailed,”and answer, “No,"with a clip in my voice.

George asks for a bathroom with a changing table.

The woman counters with: “Are you staying in the hotel?”

“Nailed again," I think. “No," I confess.

She leans in and whispers, “Go up to the second floor. It’s quiet. Change her on a bench up there."

We nod in duplicity and head up the stairs briskly. Finding the least obtrusive area, we undress Claire quickly and expedite the damage. People walk by; I smile sheepishly.

I felt like I was dealing drugs or something. I started wondering why babies in public cause such a stir. I often find myself feeling apologetic when Claire is breastfeeding or is just plain loud in the public realm. Babies spend much of their lives sleeping, eating, pooping and screaming. Everyone finds a sleeping baby cute; pretty much everything else seems up for grabs. Come on, even Kim Kardashian got into the mix with her tweet opposing public breastfeeding.

Babies seem to remind us of our impulses, of baser needs and desires that we all wish to remain hidden. I remember reading somewhere that many theaters in the 1900’s were built without ladies’ room. It was considered unseemly that women peed!

The 21st century attitude towards babies is similar. If you ask me, this mind-set is our problem not a baby’s. I wish that Claire and her kind could be who they are in all their glory with no added eyebrow-raisings.

But then again, Claire is my child. And her poop smells like roses to me. Well, not really, but you get the point.