The original natural family living magazine, founded in 1976. Natural Life is
trusted by readers around the world who want to learn how to create a green,
healthy, frugal, self-reliant lifestyle for themselves and for their families.
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from Natural Life magazine,
September/October 2008 I have been laughed at, stared at, leered at and glared at, chided, derided and scorned. Why? Because I breastfeed my child. I do not limit this activity to our home or the privacy of a restroom. I breastfeed her on demand, whenever and wherever she happens to feel hungry or need reassurance. I have nursed her in our parked car outside the grocery store. I have nursed her on a settee in our favorite bookstore. I have even nursed her discreetly at a restaurant table, shielded by her soft pink blanket. How long have I been committing this crime against cultural bias? Not for four months, not for eight months, but for 48 months… so far – this time! Then The first time, 20 years ago, I breastfed my eldest daughter for 18 months; and
I felt like an anomaly – a sore-chested, bare- breasted leaking freak of nature.
My then husband barely tolerated what he considered infringement on his
territory. My friends swore I would never get my breasts back, even after I got
my breasts back. The people who were not my friends said breastfeeding was not
civilized and that only animals nursed their young. Older and – I thought –
wiser, people said that breastfeeding was for people who didn’t know any better.
So there I was, 22 years old, camping outside the comfort zone of conformity and
seriously considering bottle feeding just to get back in the tent! Enter Mom. Mom who birthed and breastfed ten babies (consecutively, not all at once, although sometimes two at a time), not because she read an expert opinion in a book, but because she knew it was the right thing to do. Her innate desire to nurture her babies guided her to nurse them. Her instincts instructed her to show physical affection, even though her family had been undemonstrative. She nursed, hugged and cuddled even when she felt exhausted, which was most of the time. Mom did all of this before the arrival of nursing bras, microwaveable pillows and breastfeeding support groups. Of course, the fact that there was no formula to buy or prepare and no bottles to wash helped her maintain her resolve, for she was nothing if not a skilled economist. Through her actions, Mom taught me three things about breastfeeding: It is natural; it is economical; but it is not an effective form of birth control. Determined to follow my mother’s example, sans nine of the ten pregnancies, I resigned myself to breastfeeding. For the most part, however, I completely missed the point. It never occurred to me to think of it as anything but a maternal obligation, much less to revel in the bond I shared with my daughter. I had no clue how lucky I was that she latched on successfully right there in the hospital, or how incredible it was that she thrived on breast milk alone for her first six months. I gave little thought to how strong her immune system had become (she rarely got sick) or to how bright she was (she was walking at 9 ½ months and using the potty shortly thereafter). It never occurred to me to appreciate that she did not require a pacifier or a special blanket to make her feel secure. I did not attribute her sleeping soundly through the night to her trusting that I was right beside her, ready to let her nurse if she wanted. No, I paid no conscious heed to any of this. I merely marked time…and not very well. I never allowed her to nurse in public. Too embarrassing. I did not wear nursing bras that would have allowed her easy access. Too unattractive. I kept our breastfeeding a closely guarded secret and, when I thought I had done my duty sufficiently, I ended it.
When she was 18 months old, I took bad advice and cut her off, literally overnight, from her source of physical nourishment and emotional comfort. I ripped her from her breastfeeding routine. I can still hear her anguished cries and her attempts at reasonable pleading (she was a very coherent and vocal toddler). Everyone around me called her spoiled and told me to put my foot down. (Of course, everyone around me at that time of my life also ate canned vegetables and fed their children fast food on a daily basis!) My instincts said otherwise but, unlike my mother, I did not listen to my instincts. I bound my breasts in bandages, gave my baby to my sister and spent that night, and many thereafter, in self-imposed hell. Now Mahatma Gandhi said, “You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” Now, I am able to recognize good advice and a lot has changed in my world! I have jettisoned many former friends and one former husband. I have discovered who I am and what I want from life. I have taken responsibility for the young, unread woman I was and for how my actions negatively affected my first child. Finally, I have fallen in love with a man who shares my passion for life learning and natural parenting, a man who supports me in everything I do. In the spring of 2004, our daughter Grace made her debut. We knew before she was born that breastfeeding would play an important role in our relationship and in her development. I read everything I could about breastfeeding and then I set it all aside and listened to my instincts. For two nights in the hospital, my husband brought Grace to me every few hours to nurse. When we arrived home, we placed Grace in a co-sleeper attached to our bed, so she could sleep safely but nurse on demand. Since her conception, Grace has never been without the sustenance my body provides. She has grown into a vibrant, intelligent, happy, healthy and confident four-year-old who has been breastfed her whole life. Many pediatricians refer to this as extended breastfeeding but I think of it as a natural, uninterrupted progression towards self- reliance. According to Katherine Dettwyler, PhD, in her article A Natural Age of Weaning, “In societies where children are allowed to nurse ‘as long as they want’ they usually self-wean, with no arguments or emotional trauma, between three and four years of age.” I trust that Grace will wean herself without trauma when she reaches the right age, whatever that may be. Now, when others attempt to disparage me with remarks like only animals breastfeed, I tell them that actually only mammals breastfeed their young and I am a mammal, a primate who shares 98 percent of my genes with other primates. Perhaps it is that two-percent differential that impedes a natural, mutually beneficial relationship. When people say that breastfeeding is for people who don’t know any better, I counter with the facts: Breastfed babies develop stronger immune systems than bottle-fed babies do. Breastfed children boast higher IQ scores than bottle-fed children (not that IQ scores mean anything to those of us who know better). Breastfeeding reduces a child’s exposure to contaminated water, chemicals and germs lurking in plastic bottles and rubber nipples. Breastfeeding reduces a child’s risk of developing asthma, diabetes and obesity. Women who breastfeed their children return to their pre-pregnancy weight faster and lower their risk for ovarian and breast cancers. I guess I am one of those people who don’t know any better, for I know of no better way to love my child than breastfeeding. I regret that I have learned too late to benefit my eldest daughter, but I have learned that we cannot change the past, only learn from how the past affects us. I have learned that breastfeeding is not a duty but a gift exchanged between a mother and her child. I have learned that weaning is not a traumatic act to be enforced, but a natural, gradual growth towards autonomy. I have learned that we want to sustain our children and, through that sustenance freely given, we want them to learn how to sustain themselves. Becca Challman believes in natural parenting, experiential learning and child-led weaning. She writes from her heart and her home about living the natural life with her husband Scott and their daughter Grace. Contact her by email at beccawrites@verizon.net. |
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