Why I also thought about life without my breasts

Angelina Jolie write about her choice to have a preventative double mastectomy yesterday in the NYT. After losing her mum to ovarian cancer and having discovered (through genetic testing) that she, too, carries a "faulty" BRCA gene that greatly increases her risk of developing ovarian or breast cancer, she chose to have her breasts surgically removed. It reduced her breast cancer risk from 87% to under 5%. 

Angelina (I'll choose to believe we're on first name basis) has six children. She made the decision, her decision, to reduce the threat of dying young and missing out on her children's lives. I think we can all understand that. Nevertheless she's received some criticism (shocking, I know) on account of her sharing her medical decision so publicly. Everyone makes their own choices, but I'm a little surprised that some people are shocked that she'd share her decision with the world.

Angelina (again, we're close) is public figure who, through sharing her experiences, might help another few people out (both women and men can develop breast cancer). We've learned how she grieves the loss of her mother, how she worries about missing out on the lives of her own children, and how on account of her mum's cancer stemming from a genetic defect that she herself inherited, she made a personal medical choice to take preventative action. She explains the procedure, trying, I think, to normalize a surgery that sounds so terrifying, and assures us that it was the right decision for her.

I had the same genetic test done five years ago.

My grandmother, my namesake, passed away from breast cancer a few months before I was born. When my lovely aunt, now cancer-free, developed breast cancer seven years ago, she discovered that the recurring breast cancer in our family stemmed from a genetic defect on one of the two BRCA genes. Most cancer doesn't develop as a result of genetics, but it did in our family. My aunt wrote a letter to me (and I think to other members of our family) suggesting that I get tested myself. This was an uncomfortable letter to receive.

Some people just don't want to know, and that is their choice. But in case you are wondering, in case you are ever faced with the same kind of letter (though I hope you are not), here are my reasons to have the genetic testing done:

I was 31 with a baby just learning to walk. We had just celebrated Alyce's first birthday and we knew we wanted more babies. Lots of babies! Having met with a genetic counselor to learn more about the test, especially about what steps could be taken if it was discovered that I did carry the "faulty" gene, I learned that most women, upon discovering they tested positive for the genetic defect, choose the double mastectomy. It seemed like a very radical step, but I gave it a lot of thought. 

I briefly considered not going through with the test, but in the end I needed to know. I needed to know because if I tested positive I was going to drag Matt to nearest empty hospital room and get pregnant that day.  And then again the next year. I was going to keep breastfeeding Alyce, and then breastfeed our next babies with all that my body could give. I was going to join forces with my body, my potentially genetic-defect-carrying body, and celebrate these breasts the best way I knew how. And then maybe I'd say good-bye to them, farewell to these glorious breasts. 

Basically, I wanted to know if I needed to get knocked up that afternoon.

Matt and I talked about what it might mean to test positive. I might choose extensive monitoring of my breasts and ovaries. I might choose the double mastectomy. We just didn't know.  It was a terrifying decision to go through with the test because it opened up so many possibilities. Would I live my life differently? Was I going to die young like my grandmother? Would my children grow up without a mother? Would I lose my breasts? Would I still love my body? 

I tested negative. 

I still got pregnant pretty quickly after those results (no sense in taking any chances).

For those wondering why Angelina (ahem) chose to share her experience with the world, think about it for a few minutes. Think about how life-changing it is to make life and death decisions about your body. Consider what it would be like to lose your mum as a child, to know that she won't meet her grandchildren, or what it would be like not to have the children you dream of. Spend a moment wondering about how difficult a decision it would be to remove an entire part of your body. This isn't a publicity stunt, this is one woman telling another woman that it's ok to do whatever you need to do to live your life to the absolute fullest. It's not the choice for everyone, but it was hers. Let's let her share that.

***

There are a lot of things I could have brought up in this post surrounding a women's decision to have her breasts removed. Women's breasts and bodies are politicized and fetishized constantly and this certainly plays a role in the decisions women make. I'm also sure that there are many good reasons not to endure a preventative double mastectomy. This post is simply about why someone might choose to undergo testing, and why he or she might choose to act in the face of a positive test. This is all so very complicated, but I'm offering you just a piece of my own experience. 

Be Well!

How to stop breastfeeding my two year old

I have no business posting any advice for how to wean your child. The only advice I really have is how to stop breastfeeding Shira, because that's what I did. Four and a half weeks ago. Thirty-three days ago. Thirty-three missed naps ago. Six hundred tantrums ago.

Can I tell you a secret? Shira is completely fine. I know she misses her milk but she's coped, well, like a child who was ready to stop breastfeeding. It's sort of how I imagine I'll feel when I finally curb my sugar intake. I have no true desire to stop eating sweets, but once I get them out of my system I frantically hope expect that I won't miss it. Maybe it's nothing like that, but my point is that Shira has shined as a non-breastfeeding toddler. The first few days were filled with requests to have milk, but even when she cried to nurse her tears were not the sobbing, devastated kind. They were more like the annoyed, not getting her way kind.

Can I tell you another secret? I am not completely fine. I miss breastfeeding Shira so much. So much that I want a support group. I listed all the reasons I love breastfeeding Shira here and here, so I won't bore you with the details of my feelings, except to tell you that I miss her with my entire body. I feel a magnetic pull to sneak her into bed and nurse. I would not be lying if I told you that more than one night I *almost* woke her up in the middle of the night to breastfeed her just one more time. For Pete's sake.

So while I can't really offer any definitive how-to lists on how to wean your toddler, I will offer you a few things I learned along the way, since some of you have asked. If anything I'm here to tell you that there are many ways to stop breastfeeding, many reasons for doing so, and many, many feelings you will probably experience along the way. And so this is parenting.


Try and try again

I actually tried to stop breastfeeding this August when I was heading out of town for a wedding. I knew we were getting close to the end of breastfeeding, and since I was going to be away for three days and two nights, it seemed like the perfect time. Turns out we weren't close yet, not even really in the same neighbourhood. Or city, even. Shira was fine while I was gone and then collapsed in some combination excitement/horror/judgement, weeping for milk when I walked in the door. So we continued.

When the time came for us to try again (this was around mid-November), I began talking with her about it. She continued nursing five, six, or seven times a day, but we'd talk in between about how my body made milk for her when she was born, but now she had grown and grown and finished all my milk! Once I chose the day that would be our last nursing together, I got right to it. Shira, I told her gently, Mama's milk is almost gone. You ate it all up! You have grown and grown. She pouted a bit, but agreed. She continues to accept that I no longer have milk, though sometimes she still accuses me of having milk in my breasts. One day she even claimed to smell it, asking me where I put it. If only she knew that when she wasn't looking milk was actually spilling out of me.

Not breastfeeding feels kind of terrible for awhile

At least it did for me. Some mothers wean more gradually than I did. I went from constant nursing to nothing. I never claimed to be very smart, but I will say in my defence that Shira would have none of that nursing only before bed business. I tried that for weeks, in fact, it was part of the reason I decided to stop completely. Shira wanted milk all day, all the time. Had she reduced the number of breastfeedings to one or two a day I'd probably still be nursing her. (Sob.)

My drastic weaning meant that I was faced with some very uncomfortable weeks ahead of me. I expected to feel engorged for a few days, but obviously I was delusional and still drunk on my last breastfeeding high. The first few days were actually pretty easy, breast-wise. They grew in size and defied gravity a bit more, but otherwise just a little sore. Then came the plugged ducts, self-expressing, hot showers, and tears. This lasted a week. I would also leak in my sleep and whenever Shira spoke. But after two weeks most of the pain and discomfort went away, along with a cup size.

It's a great excuse to buy a cute toy.

We decided to give Shira a special stuffed animal to help her with the transition, and I think it worked out really well. I found her a red corduroy puppy (she has a thing for puppies) and I let Alyce give it to her on the last day I breastfed her. Alyce explained to Shira that my milk was going to be gone the next day and that if she ever felt sad about its disappearance she could squeeze her new puppy. Shira agreed to the new arrangement and called it Milk Puppy. I think it's an excellent name. And she squeezed the daylights out of it for the first three weeks. Now he's usually invited into her crib at bedtime, having joined the ranks of her Backyardigans and Pink Puppy.

 

Not everything will suck

When I stopped breastfeeding Alyce I felt as though I had lost her. Of course I didn't really, but for a kid who only snuggled with me while nursing, not nursing meant few, if any, opportunities to shower her with hugs and kisses, or simply just to look at each other, quietly, for a few minutes. Matt quickly took over morning and bedtime routines, something he hadn't had the chance to do in two years. I know I was still important to her, but I felt left out. I dreaded this happening again. Dreaded with all my heart.


Matt tried to tuck Shira into bed for the first two nights, but she was devastated. For more than two years I had helped her transition to bed and now what? No milk and no Mama? That hardly seemed fair. I had just assumed that me putting her to bed would be too difficult and confusing for her, troubling for her because I would only be offering my smile and not my milk. She had nursed to sleep every night of her life and I was afraid she couldn't handle my sudden withdrawal. I assumed, wrongly it turns out, that I would be left out of the bedtime equation for a long time.

Fortunately for me (because this is about me, let's not kid ourselves), she still needed me. Unlike Alyce who processed the whole experience a bit differently, Shira wanted everything else the same, just minus the milk. She was happy to snuggle in bed with me before heading into her crib, snuggling and singing and talking about her day, just like we used to. The only difference now was my shirt stayed down. I have to admit, it was a lovely development. Unexpected, but desperately needed.

This is all I have for now. Like I said, I'm not really happy with all this. I reluctantly admit that we're all doing well, that I have a happy and healthy little girl who is learning new ways to cope with the demands of everyday. While she used to turn to breastfeeding for comfort and solace, now she's learning to rely on other things.

Plus she has Milk Puppy.

What no on told me about breastfeeding: Part Two

This is part two of a series I've written about weaning my second daughter, Shira. It's been almost two weeks since we stopped breastfeeding (and the picture above was taken the last time she nursed). You can find part one here. 

*** 

6.  You might not find breastfeeding an unbearable burden. A lot of time people talk about breastfeeding as though it ties up mothers in unwanted chains. Yes, breastfeeding is a commitment, and yes you will give some things up, depending on what your breastfeeding relationships look like. In the beginning it can come as quite a shock at how much of your new parenting life is spent breastfeeding, and often this means that you are alone in a room while other people are doing things you'd like to be doing (like showering or going to the bathroom). In those early days when you are figuring things out, you might tend to avoid groups of people because you're still trying to figure out the mechanics of baby to nipple, or you're not yet comfortable nursing in public. To those of you in this place, believe, me it will get better. Know that most people want to support you, want babies to have their milk whenever and wherever they please, and that you can breastfeed your baby pretty much anywhere. Breastfeeding doesn't have to mean isolation.

Depending on your preferences, breastfeeding also doesn't have to mean complete deprivation from the things you enjoy. I have enjoyed wine, coffee, tea, (probably too much) sugar, and pretty much anything that I've wanted while breastfeeding both girls. Sure, I didn't go overboard with the alcohol and caffeine, and I have had to postpone my crack habit, but that's probably for the best. The only thing I have truly missed was cold medicine. Just wait until my next cold and you'll find me drugged to excesses previously unimagined. But dammit, I'll be able to breath through my nose.

And another thing: breastfeeding an infant is a lot different than breastfeeding an older child. In the first year I gave up things like going out for dinner and going away for the night so that I could be close to my nurslings and their constant request for milk. Some mothers prefer little more freedom (or need to return to work) and find constant breastfeeding too much. That's cool, they get to make decisions on behalf of their own breasts. But please don't assume that all breastfeeding is a burden. It never bothered me, and I wish that more people saw this side of breastfeeding. The best part? The longer I breastfed, the more freedom I had. Shira loved nursing so much that she'd wait however long she needed. By the time she was eighteen months I could go out of town for the night and she'd wait patiently for my return. In August I went away for over two days and she didn't miss a beat. I had the best of both worlds.

7. You might wake up in the morning and be excited to breastfeed. Again. Is this getting annoying? Maybe. But I really did look forward to breastfeeding my babies, even after a long day of feeling like I did nothing else but nurse. Do you start to miss your children a few hours after they are in bed, and you feel a bit ridiculous because you just saw them and were very ready for a parenting break? Same thing goes for breastfeeding, at least it did for me. Shira wakes up around five in the morning every single day, and no matter how much I begged her to sleep like a normal human, I still welcomed her in my bed for her morning milk.

I was at a doula workshop a few weeks ago and we were practicing relaxation techniques on each other, in hopes that we might help our clients get some rest between contractions. One thing we talked about was taking the time to learn our client's happy place, that mental experience that would help them relax in an otherwise chaotic situation. Most people chose the beach or the mountains. I chose breastfeeding Shira after her afternoon nap. I'd bring my still-sleepy baby under the duvet in our bed, she'd latch on, eyes still closed, and it was perfection. Her warm, rosy, nap cheeks, her little arm wrapped around me, those little nursing noises. Just typing this has made my (almost) non-existent milk let down.

8. You might do things you never dreamed of. Like breastfeed while signing up for a new account at the bank. (We did that.) Or when you're signing the papers for your new car (We did this, too). Or while going through customs at the airport. (And this.) Or sitting outside on a park bench while the snow is falling all around you. (You get the idea.) Or when your baby isn't a baby anymore and and can negotiate with words about how much milk she'd like to have and how often. You might walk in your house after grading papers at the library and have a 2.5 year old collapse against you, declaring, I love milk, Mama! Now I can have milk! Or you might find yourself nursing your baby two years, seven months, and four days after you starting breastfeeding her, thinking that it might actually be time to stop. You never dreamed you would want to stop, and really, you still don't. But you'll do it anyway on account of a few good reasons, reasons that are yours and yours alone. And you'll listen to those mothers you know who tell stories, who promise, of new ways to love and hold your child that come later, after the breast.

9. You might not like breastfeeding. This has not been my experience. Here I am writing breastfeeding a love letter, so I'm pretty sure we're good, the two of us. But there are so many things a mother does and learns as she parents her child, and I'm certain that not every mother loves every single thing about parenthood, breastfeeding included. I know many women who really didn't enjoy breastfeeding. Some of them continued for a year, others stopped after only a few weeks or months. If you need support making breastfeeding a success, I hope you get it (and if you need some suggestions for resources or lactation consultants in your area, let me know and I'm happy to point you in the right direction). But your breastfeeding might not look like mine. That's ok, too.

10. That you might grieve when it's over. I am not exaggerating when I say my heart is broken. I'm often a bit melodramatic, but I'm not performing here. It has been twelve days since I've breastfed Shira and I've never missed anything more. I might write a post about the specifics of how I stopped breastfeeding Shira, but I don't want to do that today. Right now I don't want to think about how she cried two Sunday mornings ago when there wasn't any milk for her, or the plugged ducts I've had that have just served to remind me that I have milk just sitting there in my boobs, all sore and painful, that for some crazy reason I'm not giving to Shira. I made the decision to stop breastfeeding but that doesn't mean I like it right now, that every day since we stopped I haven't almost nursed her.

Many people, especially other mothers who have breastfed or who are still breastfeeding, have offered me kind and supportive words over the past two weeks. Some of congratulated me on a job well done, while others have tried reminding me of all the things I can do now that I'm not nursing. I'm grateful for the encouraging words and I'll save them for later, when my heart feels a bit better. For now I am grieving the loss of one of the most magical relationships I've ever had. I know that there is so much in the future for me and Shira, just as I learned when I weaned Alyce. But none of that changes how I feel today. Grieving is about loss, and no matter what comes next I will still have lost something I'll never get back.

Once my grief has lessened I'll be able to focus on the things coming next for me and Shira. I can already tell it's going to get even better.

***

Interested in some of my previous posts on breastfeeding? Here they are:

Breastfeeding at a year

Ten things you ought to know about feeding a toddler (and the missing number nine)

On boobs, breastfeeding, and not breastfeeding 

What no one told me about breastfeeding: Part One

Shira breastfeeding sometime last month.

Our first meeting.

This is me and Shira on May 11, 2007 2010*, her first day on the outside. After she was born in the water the midwives helped the two of us out of the tub (without grace I might add, as I had not yet delivered the placenta and we were still very much attached to one another) and into a welcoming queen-size bed. If I remember correctly Shira began nursing about 14 seconds after we settled into bed, and stopped only about six days ago. Two years, seven months, and four days is how long I breastfed my Shira Clementine. And no one told me just how sad I would feel.

I have been either pregnant or breastfeeding since February 2007. To say that my identity, my body, and my heart has been wrapped up in birth and breastfeeding barely touches how I'm feeling. You know how you stare at a mess of yarn or string that is so tangled in knots you don't even know where to begin to untangle it? You turn it around in your hands and try desperately to choose a  place to dig in, hoping to find that end you can begin to maneuver through and around and through again, using one strategy after another hoping to end up with one single, uncomplicated piece. That's a little bit how I feel looking at myself now, trying not just to figure out how to understand my new place in Shira's life, but to understand my own feelings in my own, seemingly new body.

So I give you a list (you know I like lists) of ten things no one tells you about breastfeeding. I'm offering this as a series in two parts, so check back next week for part two.

1. It's hard work. Ok, most people will tell you that now. In the weeks leading up to giving birth, many women begin to worry about breastfeeding. In the first days after birth, some women enter a state of complete anxiety about it. Is there enough milk? Why does this hurt so badly? Is she always going to nurse this much? Can I drink coffee? (The answers according to me are: usually, a bad latch, probably, and I did.) The moral of this story is that breastfeeding doesn't always happen the way you want it to, where you bring your baby to your breast, baby latches, and then baby drinks happily with the form of a gold medal breastfeeder that leaves your nipples happy and in one piece. Sometimes you have to try a hundred times to get a good latch; other times you try and try and you just can't seem to fill up your baby. But it's ok, I promise. However you figure out breastfeeding, whatever that looks like to you, it will get better. Alyce cried almost every time she tried to latch on for six months. We tried everything, visited lactation consultants, went to La Leche Meetings, cried to friends. Eventually, after some dedication on both our parts, it just worked. We got each other, settled into a rhythm that didn't stop until she was almost two, when I was pregnant with Shira.

Sometimes breastfeeding is just like breathing, and you can do other things while you feed you baby, like take ridiculous pictures of yourself. Or text your husband in the next room and ask him to bring you a glass of water. Done and done.

2. Sometimes it isn't hard work. Then Shira was born. She entered this world with one thing on her brain (milk) and continues each day motivated by the same thing (more milk). Sometimes breastfeeding isn't so complicated. Sometimes you don't need special pillows or pumps or covers for when you're out in public. Breastfeeding Shira was so uncomplicated and I an eternally grateful for her expertise, especially when I spent so much of her first year learning how to be a  mother to two children. I had other things to feel anxious about and Shira let me worry about those just as long as I had the time to lay next to her in bed with an open shirt.

Still nursing, two hours after birth.

3. iPhones were made so you could capture your child breastfeeding in digital forms as many as ten times a day. I didn't have an iPhone with Alyce and as a result I have about six photos of her at the breast, on account of those days I had enough forethought to sit down near an actual camera. But with my iphone always close by I was able to document Shira's most favourite past-time on a daily, if not hourly basis! Very little warms my heart more than a photo of Shira breastfeeding, cheeks rosy, eyes bright (or sleepily closed), relaxed in my arms. I will show Shira these photos throughout her life, and in between eye-rolls she will listen to me tell her that she was loved and held and adored so dearly that I never wanted to put her down.

Like this photo.

And this one.

4. Breastfeeding helps you steal time. I don't know what it's like to bottle feed a baby, and I hope it is clear from my writing on this blog that I care most about supporting parents no matter how they feed their babies, but I will tell you something about breastfeeding that I think is special. Because breastfeeding is often done privately, even for those of us (myself included) who are happy to breastfeed anywhere (synagogue, Target, the subway, in front of my nervous stepfather), you'll often find yourself alone when you breastfeed your baby. Breastfeeding requires a certain kind of focus. Since a baby can't look around a room in quite the same way (though they, ahem, try as best they can), breastfeeding an older infant or toddler often means finding a quiet place to nurse. I have stolen the most magical of moments while feeding by daughters, like the time we were driving from Toronto to Delaware, late at night and Matt and Alyce we re grabbing some food inside the service centre. Shira and I sat together in a quiet, darkened car, breastfeeding and looking at the stars. Stolen, just like that.

In the car at Allentown, Pennsylvania.

5. If you plan it right, you can get a lot of reading done. Once Alyce was a year old I could start reading a book while we sat together and breastfeed before nap or bedtime. She was tired enough at those times that her arms didn't wander around too much and grab at my book. But with Shira I learned how to breastfeed her lying in bed from the first day, and this opened up endless reading possibilities. As long as it wasn't a heavy hardcover book I couldn't balance in one hand, I was able to read almost every time I breastfeed Shira for almost eighteen months. In fact, I read the entire Sookie Stackhouse series before she was four months old. Now don't tell Matt, but sometimes I would keep reading a fifteen few minutes after she was done nursing just to keep reading. Glorious development that was.

Sometimes Shira would read, too. That was less comfortable.

Other times she prefers to hold friends. Friends, how can you resist that chubby arm?

Check back next week when I share how breastfeeding didn't make me feel oppressed and how both Shira and I are dealing with weaning. I'll give you a hint on that last one: Shira is fine and I am a mess. No surprises here!

*Update: Thanks, Christina, for reminding me that Shira was not born in 2007. That was my other daughter. Weaning=general anxiety and forgetfulness.

More thoughts on breastfeeding a toddler

The perk of nursing with your iPhone handy? Capturing grins like this one.

Shira is turning two in a few weeks and I'm starting to get a lot of questions about breastfeeding. How long will you continue to breastfeed? Don't I want to stop? Is she going to permanently fuse to your breast? Fair enough. I don't think these questions are unusual by any means. Women just don't breastfeed toddlers very much in our culture, though that is starting to change. My friends and family have always been very supportive about my breastfeeding Alyce and Shira, but since for most of them it isn't the norm, I naturally receive a lot of questions.

A lot of people expect that I will stop nursing Shira once she turns two. Again, I understand why they expect it will come to an end. She's growing up and standing so much on her own in the world. It makes sense that she will no longer want to breastfeed one day, busy as she is. But right now she isn't ready and I have no need to enforce an arbitrary deadline on her. There are many reasons women need or choose to wean, but I don't have any of these reasons at the moment. I'm home with them full-time, so I'm always available. With the exception of that crazy week in Vancouver, it doesn't cause me any pain. She clearly still wants to breastfeed because she asks for it throughout the day and enjoys it when I am able to. (Also, in case you were wondering, you can't make a baby breastfeed unless they want it. They will absolutely not latch on if they don't want to.) There is no question in my mind that she still needs to nurse. This doesn't mean that I think harm would come to her if I decided to wean today. She would adjust and adapt just fine. But with no reason to stop, we'll continue on, my little nursling and me.

And of course, she's not the only who gets something out of breastfeeding. I love nursing her. It's my time with just Shira and no matter how much she will always love me, she will never snuggle with me again like this on a regular basis. I came to terms with that when I weaned Alyce at twenty-two months, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. In fact, it makes me quite sad to think about ending our breastfeeding relationship. It would mark an end to so many things and I would grieve this transition. (Many women suffer depression when they wean. You can find one women's story here). In a month from now I might feel very ready to stop, and I'm happy that I have the freedom to wait for that time to come. Who knows, I could feel that way tomorrow. Or, Shira could decide for the both of us. Either way, as sad as I will be when this is over, it will be ok. I find transitions of this sort so difficult, but I always get through them.

If you've read any of my blog before you're probably wondering if I will ever stop talking about breastfeeding. It's not looking good for you, I'm afraid. Breastfeeding your baby, or any kind of close relationship you share with your child, is transformative. It's going to change you, and if you're like me, you want to share that with the entire internet. You're welcome.


What about parenting has transformed you?

P.S. Here is an article by Dr. Jack Newman, a breastfeeding expert with some wonderful advice on nursing a toddler.

P.P.S. Another post on breastfeeding a toddler. And another one.

Some thoughts on flying with young children

Sometimes I'm shocked at how much my life has changed since having children. I used to fly to British Columbia and Alberta all the time and I loved the traveling. I loved reading magazines and new books, wrapping myself in a big scarf and watching a movie. The thing that puzzles me about these memories is that I used to treasure these four or five hours by myself because...why? I wasn't married, I didn't have children. As a student I was I by myself all day long. Of course many people without children have busy lives and stressful demands on their time, but me? I just had papers to write, and the occasional class to teach. I had plenty of alone time.  Now? If I get a chance to pee by myself I'm having a good day.

Now I have two sidekicks. They are by my side from the moment we wake up until, well, just sort of all the time. I'm still a parent at night, like when Alyce calls for me multiple times a night when she just can't settle into a restful sleep, as she's done the past couple of nights. Shira would prefer to just crawl inside my clothes, but she'll accept me carrying her on the outside most of the time. If I'm eating they want to share, if I'm talking to Matt they want to know what and how and why I'm saying the things I do.

Our trip to Vancouver last month took flying out west to a whole new level. It was just the three of us and we took the plane by storm. I made a few advance preparations (like filling my bags with dollar store treats of new crayons, stickers, teeny tiny safari animals, and smarties) and then we were on our way. Alyce was big enough for her own seat, but in order for Shira to fly free she had to share my lap. Oh, we managed just fine (see above, re: always trying to climb inside my clothes). When we arrived on the plane we received both sighs and smiles. Before flying I had decided not to care about what other people thought of my traveling family, not wanting to spend my flight worrying about other people. We settled in and I quickly pulled out my secret weapon.

No matter what opinion people have of breastfeeding a toddler, no matter how uncomfortable the idea makes them, any airline passenger becomes an instant supporter of a breastfed baby. I could feel the plane give a collective sigh of relief when I unsnapped my nursing bra. Oh, how lovely. This little one won't be crying during take-off. Isn't breastfeeding lovely? I think they would have even supported me nursing Alyce, who hasn't nursed in two years. I think I could have passed around breastfeeding pins to every passenger on that plane.

We had a few moments of frustration on the plane, but mostly it was a great trip. Alyce and Shira coloured, snacked, and covered each other in stickers. I even read five pages of a book. I can't remember the last time I did that with children on my lap. If you have a trip planned in the your future and you'll be traveling with young kids, know this: some things might get in the way (like sickness or tantrums), but for the most part its not so bad. Take it for what it is (not the plane ride of your youth) and ask them to pass the smarties.

Breastfeeding at a year

 Shira this afternoon, just after breastfeeding.

So my lovely cousin sent me a message the other day asking for some advice about breastfeeding her one year old. I had a few suggestions for her and I thought they might be of use to someone else. For what it’s worth, here are a few thoughts about breastfeeding around the one-year mark. I am not a lactation consultant, just someone who has been nursing for four years.

My baby still nurses through the night

So your baby is now a year old and still wants to nurse every four hours at night. Why is my baby so evil? I used to wonder. She probably wasn’t evil, though, just enjoying our nightly habit of her waking up whenever she pleased to have just a little more milk. But after a year of nursing through the night, there comes a time when you’re just ready for a complete night’s rest (that time was probably months before your baby’s first birthday, but here you are).

There is one very straightforward solution to this, but it isn’t for everyone: you could put him in his own bed at night and not go to him until the morning. This is what we did with Alyce. At this point she was going to bed around 6:30 at night, waking up around 1:00 am, and then again around 4:00 am. I decided that I would eliminate first feeding and only go to her if it was after 3:00 am (assuming that if she had her first night-nurse after 3:00, that she wouldn’t wake up a second time before morning). Eliminating that first feeding meant that I had to let her cry. If I went to her and tried to rock her back to sleep, or rub her back, she’d just lose it. And by lose it, I mean violently dive bomb my boobs in hope that one would fall out by accident that she could latch on to. If Matt went in, Alyce would scream for me endlessly. We came to realize that she cried a lot less, and coped with the missed feeding, a lot better if she just didn’t see us. So we let her cry, at first for fifteen minutes or so, but in a week she was down to peeping only for a minute. After a month or so we did the same thing for the 3:00 am feeding.

I might have been more open to breastfeeding once during the night if she didn’t start her days at 5:00 am. I am less into compromise in these early hours of the day. Side note: why do I make babies who start their days at 5:00 am? Does anyone have any answers for me?

Because Alyce slept in her own crib, in her own room, this course of action was pretty simple. It was different with Shira. Because we only had a two bedroom house at the time, Shira was sleeping in a crib in our room when her first birthday came around. There was not going to be any crying back to sleep when she was inches from my boobs head. So Shira kept on nursing through the night at least two or three times. When we moved back to Canada and the girls had to share a room, Shira usually ended up in our bed through the night so that her night wakings didn’t wake up Alyce. This meant that she continued to nurse all.night.long. After a month of cosleeping with my nursing monster it was time to try something new. Basically, I just switched bedmates. Alyce came into our bed so that we could both get some sleep, and Shira adjusted to not breastfeeding the night. I think it took two nights. Clearly she had been swindling me.

I have no real advice for those of you who want to continue cosleeping with your nursing  little ones. Sorry about that.

Balancing work and breastfeeding

In Canada (thank you, Canada!) a lot of women are able to stay at home for the entire first year with their baby. Many women can’t afford to pay the bills on the reduced income and return to work early, but for others, it’s an amazing opportunity to stare at their babies all day long. During my time in the U.S. I was in shock that many women only had four to six weeks off after giving birth, and that most could only take three months. I hope that the American government gets with the program about the benefits of mothers and fathers staying home for the first year of a baby’s life, especially for breastfeeding mothers. Breastfeeding just won’t be a possibility for so many women if they have to go to work right away. Pumping is incredibly difficult and is not an easy solution. I am in awe of women who manage to pull this off--nicely done.

So I have little to say about going back to work in the early months (again, sorry about that). But since Alyce was still breastfeeding when she started at full-time daycare at 13 months when I went back to my PhD program full-time (that worked out well, didn’t it?), we still had our own work-balance issues to figure out. Here is what I learned: I had to trust that Alyce was getting enough nutrition from her solid food and cow’s milk at daycare and not worry so much about how much breast milk she was getting. I spent so much time worrying about her getting enough milk that first year (she has always been a tiny thing), that it was hard to trust that by 13 months that she was getting enough to grow. But she was. What helped me was coming to understand that breastfeeding had become less about food and more about comfort and time with mama. Of course breast milk still offered incredible things for her and her developing immune system, but it was so much more than milk. Breastfeeding helped her wake up to start her stay, calmed her to sleep, and cured all ills in between. I also stopped worrying about my milk supply. I knew there would always be some milk as long as she was nursing. She seemed happy and I was happy. Everybody was happy.

One thing to keep in mind: it turns out that babies are very stubborn. Prepare yourself for this. When Alyce started at her full-time daycare we would send two sippy cups of whole milk with her and one cup of water. But no. Alyce did not want sippy cups of milk or water, she wanted to nurse. So she simply refused to drink all day long, waiting instead for me to pick her up and nurse her right there on the spot. It was actually a nice little routine, and eventually she came to accept some lesser cup-milk. I asked her doctor and he assured me that she would not become dehydrated as long as she was eating food during the day, which she was.

******

I breastfed Alyce until she was twenty-two months old, when I was eight weeks pregnant with Shira. She continued to nurse in the morning and evenings until then. Shira is now twenty-one months and shows no sign of slowing down (she still nurses about four or five times a day, but not overnight). I still love it and have no interest in weaning (except some days when I do). Maybe this one will still be nursing at two.

Maybe three.

Previous posts on breastfeeding:

Ten things you ought to know about nursing a toddler
Uncharted Territory
Sobbing Again. Anxious, too.
Even Alyce tells me I look tired.
On boobs, breastfeeding, and not breastfeeding.

And there were goats

 

It's been a week or two since my last photo of sleeping Shira, and I thought you might be worried.

Rest assured, she is still sleeping, and as much as I've clearly stated my preference that she sleep in until six in the morning, I'll take her sleeping through the night any day of the week, no matter how much my brain hurts when I swing my legs out of bed at five. The photo above was taken yesterday while I was being spoiled by my mum, who not only gave me the gift of a hair cut at my favourite salon in Toronto, but looked after Shira while my hairdresser worked his magic. Shira grew bored of the whole thing and promptly fell asleep.

Now excuse me while I stare at those lips. Delicious.

Speaking of being spoiled my mum, she took me to see the Marc Chagall exhibit at the Art Gallery of Ontario. We made a date of it, just the two of us, only to readjust later when it became clear that Shira was not having any of our plans. So the three of us stood before some of my favourite paintings, with even Shira appreciating the vibrant blues, purples, and reds. Fortunately for her, Chagall includes a goat in almost every painting, and since she's recently learned the word goat, it was a big day for her.

Also, she appreciated Chagall's work from the cozy pocket of my sling, nursing the entire time we wandered through the exhibit. Who says you can't breastfeed and simultaneously point out the goats? Not Shira!

It was a good day, and I have my mum to thank for the entire thing. It's hard not to feel down in the middle of all this reality lately. We're heading into month eight of the job search and the world feels awfully hard some days. Every single day I'm grateful that we have been welcomed in my mum's house while we continue to try and shape this new life of ours, but that doesn't mean that it's easy--for any of us. But yesterday felt easy and I always feel so motivated after visiting a gallery. I have less than zero artistic talent, but I'm convinced that being close to such works of art rubs off on me, even if it's just to see my own world a little differently.

Where was Alyce during this day in the city? Home with her Papa, who sent me text me the following text midway through the day: "One kid is easy!!!" Amen to that.

But I forgot number nine

What good is a list of ten things that only includes nine? I do hope it's still worth something, but in the end I'd rather a complete list as much as the next girl. So in order to amend my list of ten things you ought to know about breastfeeding a toddler, here is the missing number nine:

9.  Toddlers are crazy, tiny human beings who often have trouble communicating with the rest of the world. For instance, Shira spent approximately twenty-three hours of the previous twenty-four yelling, screaming, whining, and all the while seemed incredibly annoyed with my inability to figure out what she wanted. Some toddlers are verbal from a young age, while others, Shira included, are a bit late to talking. Shira knows many words, yet she struggles getting her messages across. How does this relate to breastfeeding? Be patient. I'm getting there, you see, because one way to help Shira cope with this frustration is to offer her some milk. Does it help her communicate more clearly? Of course not. Does it temporarily trick her into forgetting that she's annoyed with me and offer me a few moments of quiet? You bet it does. Nursing=Superpower.

I hope this more complete list makes you sleep a bit better tonight. You and I both know that list-making is a serious business. Let's not stand in the way.

Ten things you ought to know about nursing a toddler

UPDATE: This list of ten things is missing a number nine! Find it here.

1. Let's just get this out of the way first. Some people are uncomfortable when mothers breastfeed their toddler. I can't tell you how many times I've had someone tell me, "If they can ask for it, they should be drinking out of a cup," and then they laugh uncomfortably.  Shira and I have one thing to say to those people: we disagree. Shira most certainly knows how to ask for it, and you might even hear her request for milk if you are anywhere in the Greater Toronto Area, since she declares her request for mee--eelk in much the same way (though in a much louder voice) that a donkey might yelp in pain. There is no chance that after such an eloquent request that I am going to turn her down.

2. Shira would also like me to tell you that she can absolutely drink from a cup, whether it be water, a little juice, or more recently, chocolate soy milk. All of these things are delicious in a cup. However, breastmilk, she reminds us, comes from the breast, and in the breast it shall remain. But let's not get down on her mad cup skills. Breastfeeding for a toddler is about many, many things, so let's not get overwhelmed by issues of cup competency, shall we?

3. In the beginning, there was a sweet and soft little baby in my arms as we nursed. Once we got past all of the initial challenges of feeding a tiny new human, we developed a wonderfully sweet and soft little ritual of breastfeeding every twenty minutes or so. Things have changed. Fortunately for everyone involved, toddlers do not breastfeed every twenty minutes. And fortunately or unfortunately, depending on who you ask, it's rarely sweet or soft. Ok, it's still mostly sweet, but soft? I guess you could describe the headstand she performed yesterday while nursing, nipple still in mouth, as graceful, but soft it was not. I kid you not, she turned herself upside down.

4. Oh, and that part I just wrote about toddlers not nursing often? I lied. Sometimes they ask to nurse a lot, all the time, all over town. And sometimes you acquiesce.  But one of the nice things about breastfeeding older babies is the absence of guilt. Seriously, you know how much you worry about feeding infants, worrying about whether or not they are getting enough milk, or enough of the right milk, at the right times of day, from opposite boobs (did I nurse on the right or left last time)? Nursing a toddler is so freeing! As long as they are eating regular food alongside breastfeeding, it doesn't really matter how often or not they nurse. And since feeding toddlers food is never stressful, you're laughing!

5. I love, love, love breastfeeding Shira, and I loved breastfeeding Alyce, and I'll get that the reasons I love it soon, but there are some things you should know, and they aren't always pretty. At least once a week Shira pulls my shirt down in public with hopes a quick snack, and I'm almost always trying to pay for my groceries at the time. And on account of her sometimes acrobatic approach to a snack, I sometimes incur injuries not just to my breasts, but to my face or arms. Just last week I sported not a tiny scratch along my chin, the nastiest toddler toenail scratch I've ever had.

6. Yes, sharp teeth are a hazard in any toddler breastfeeding relationship. But Shira's only bitten me a few times, and frankly, I find her recent mastery of screeching every time I turn my attention away from her much more painful than the rare bite. Maybe I have nipples of steel, or maybe her screeching is just really annoying.

7. Breastfeeding mothers often shy away from discussing what they get from nursing a child, infant or toddler, but I wish that would change. Snuggling up with Shira first thing in the morning or after a nap, under the covers, feels wonderful. Breastfeeding a child is food and nutrition and comfort, but it is also intimate, and as the girls grow older I don't think I'll ever forget how lovely it felt to snuggle close with them as they breastfed. 

(8. I am lazy, and sometimes I don't feel like walking all the way into the kitchen to pour her a cup of something else. Boobs are always close by and at the ready. Ease of accessibility is not just a perk of breastfeeding an infant.)

10. If you've ever met a toddler you'll know that they won't do anything they don't like. You cannot make a toddler breastfeed if it isn't the exact thing they want at that exact moment. Try nursing an uninterested breastfeeder and you'll see, just make sure you wear protective gear. So if your toddler wants to nurse, and you're still up for it, I hope you'll do it. There are no rules about how long you have to breastfeed, and no rules about when to wean. Just remember that mothers make some pretty amazing milk and it's a shame for it to go to waste if there are takers around looking for some good food and good company. There are many good reasons to stop breastfeeding and by all means, do what is best for you, but I just hope you won't let your child's ability to badly pronounce the word "milk" (or some other variation) stand in your way!

See here for a post of actual helpful suggestions for breastfeeding a toddler, over at PhD in Parenting.

A list, if you will

 Alyce, self-portrait

1. Is it just me, or has Alyce become quite an artist? I'm finding her soulful self-portraits fulfilling on many levels. The arms, you'll notice, seem to be growing directly out of her head. She's always challenging me to think outside the box. Mostly, I just love her silly grin.

2.  This list is far greater than my own.

3. I've just fallen in love with Coeur de Pirate. Also, her cover of Katy Perry. Don't judge me.

4. Do you think I could make this Pumpkin Challah before I leave for work in the morning? Probably not, but I should probably try anyway.

5. Speaking of work, I've applied for a job that I would really, really, really like to have. Universe, help a girl out, would you?

6. I've been doing a lot of writing lately, planning for some potential freelance articles and even for the book I hope to write about my grandmother. The past six months have been *challenging* to say the least, but I've never put so much energy into my writing before*. I like it. I like it a lot.

7. Have you read Jonathan Franzen's Freedom? I started listening to it on CD during my commute to work everyday, and I have to admit, I hated it. The book is spread out over 19 CDs, and I made it all the way to disc 13, but I just couldn't do it anymore. I wanted to like this book, I really did. But the characters were mean-spirited, the outlook dreary, and I just couldn't handle all the whining. I hear enough whining from my three year old. I usually finish books no matter what, but I just couldn't do it. Did you like it? Are you one of those readers who finishes a book no matter what?

8. If you don't already, I suggest that you head over here. Ryan from Pacing the Panic Room, along with his wife Cole, are taking photoblogging to an impressive level.

9. I think Shira might be heading in the direction of non-breastfeeding. But I don't really want to talk about this, so I'm just going to sit in the corner for a little while.

10. The following things have made me smile this week: Alyce's interpretive dancing to Eddie Vedder's Ukulele Songs, Shira's new vocabulary, especially when she tries to say Alyce, carving a Halloween pumpkin with the girls, Matt's newly discovered talent at roasting brussel sprouts.

It's Thursday, everyone! That means tomorrow is Friday!

The weekend. It's coming.

*Note to self: This might be why that whole PhD dissertation never quite worked out.

I resist change

 At the office each day, I have the world’s greatest party trick. All day long, as the hours slowly pass, my boobs just get bigger and bigger. They aren’t small in the morning, and by the end of the day, watch out. Someone might get hurt.

Do you want to know my secret? Breastfeed a baby for almost eighteen months and then leave the house for 10.5 hours a day. Then keep nursing her in the morning and before bed (and all day long on the weekends), and you’ll trick your body into thinking your not weaning, but instead still need to produce lots of milk. Then watch boobs grow. And grow.

To say that I miss The Children isn’t quite right. It’s more like I’m not sure how to understand my day without them, how to step away from their days. Our days. My body (see above, re: boobs) and my heart are resisting the adjustment of it all, and instead seem to be doing everything in their power to keep reminding me to go home. Home! they tell me, you’re needed at home! Plus if you’re at home, you won’t have to enter data!

Shira, in her way, is handling my going to work swimmingly. If I’m home she’ll ask to nurse every other hour, and when I walk through the door at the end of my work day she greets me expectantly, but during the day she’s just fine. In fact, I think she quite enjoys all her time with her Papa. Alyce, on the other hand, deals with life in a different way. She, too, enjoys bossing Papa around, and in many ways she seems to have adjusted to this new normal. In the morning, during the six minutes I spend with her before leaving for 10.5 hours, she’s all business: she doles out hugs, kisses, compliments (on my outfit), suggestions (here, wear this necklace, too), and advice (drive safely). And when I come home each night she’s right there to welcome me back. The resistance comes in her renewed commitment to not listening on the weekends, which we could all do without, but can handle. And I might be imagining this, but I think that Alyce has become an even greater big sister since I’ve started working, looking out for Shira and inviting her to play together a little bit more, thinking of herself as a mama-in-training. Handy, that.

Whose having the hardest time adjusting? Anyone? Me. For example: all this time I’m spending away from The Children makes me want to inhale them when I’m home. If I’m in the room with them, I need to be close by, breathing in their smells (not all of them good, I’m afraid), giving them kisses, and stroking their hair. Alyce, it seems, has had enough. Case in point, a few nights ago she awoke around eleven, as she often does, needing a quick kiss and reminder that we are all in fact still home. The entire process usually takes around 45 seconds. But no, I jumped at this opportunity to slide into bed with her, spoon her, and grin ear-to-ear with the loveliness of spending time with my little girl. After about a minute, Alyce groaned at me to get out of her bed and to let her sleep. Then she pushed me.

So yes, I miss my girls. But my boobs have never looked better.

Uncharted Territory

You'd think I was done talking about my boobs. Alas, no.

I'm not here to go on about breastfeeding debates today, though. I'm here to ask for your advice. Shira has entered an entirely new aggressive phase in her approach to breastfeeding. I call her Milkzilla. It goes something like this:

I want milk. It's been ten minutes. No, I want it faster. No, that's not fast enough. It's been another ten minutes. I want more. I'll tackle you if I have to. Is that my sister on your lap. Oh, no she doesn't. I'll just smack her down until she gets her three-year-old bum away from you. There, ok. I'll have more milk then. I'm done now, but don't move since I'll be back in ten minutes for some more. Alright, then. Hey wait, I want some more now.

I could go on. Shira certainly does. All day long. Alyce never behaved this way. She loved nursing as much as any baby, but at this age she seemed content to nurse before naps, after a bump or fall, and first thing in the morning. Shira is sixteen months and I expect that there is a lot contributing to her attack on my boobs. First, she's not talking yet (except for calling Mama), and I think she's frustrated a lot of the time. Maybe she's nursing her way through the frustration? Second, she's been teething hard for a month and since nursing cures all, I imagine that it makes her mouth feel better. Third, breastfeeding is the one thing that belongs to Shira and nobody else. She competes with her big sister all day long for toys and attention, but the boobs are hers, and hers alone. It might be her way of showing the world that I belong to her, as she navigates her place in our family.

Really, Shira. There's no need to worry. I'm always here. Now please, just for this morning, please enjoy some milk in your cup. Oh right, you do not accept substitutes. I forgot.

Have any of you had experience with this? Once I return to work she'll have limited access to me during the day, but I have no intention of weaning her any time soon. Any thoughts?

On boobs, breastfeeding, and not breastfeeding

Yesterday, for the first time since 2007 (with the exception of a few short months when I wasn’t nursing Alyce during my pregnancy with Shira), I wore a grown-up, sexy, underwire-supported bra. Fancy, I know. I’m nursing Shira a lot less (only four times a day) and I figured that I might not want to wear one of my old nursing bras to the job interview that I expect I’ll one day have. Amidst the sparkles and the neon yellow choices, I made my purchases, happy to once again give some well-deserved support to my nursing boobs. They’ve earned it.

As soon as I tried them on, I knew. I love my nursing bras and if I’m fortunate enough to have more babies (yes, please), I’ll run to the local pregnancy shop and buy myself some new nursing bras. They are comfortable and easy to use. Amen to that, since learning to breastfeed is difficult enough without having to wear an uncomfortable bra. But, wow. A real, live bra does wonders for your cleavage. I hadn’t realized just how, umm, low things had gotten. Do you know who else hadn’t realized? My husband. Because the look on his face when I walked downstairs yesterday morning, wearing my new bra under my shirt, was worth all the effort.



He blushed. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.



***



Boobs. 

I never imagined how much my life story would be populated with obsessing over my breasts, making sure that they work, and that the right people get enough of them (there is a lot of competition in this house over who gets priority access). Sure, I expected a preoccupation with their size between the ages of twelve and fourteen, but I didn’t expect this. I thought only teenage girls (and boys) gave such thought to the habits of breasts.

Turns out that I think about boobs all the time. Mostly mine, but sometime I think about the ones that belong to other women, mostly other mothers. I get phone calls from friends wanting to talk about them, I have books on the shelf teaching me how to feed my babies with them, and many a blog post makes reference to them. And then there is all that time I spend watching Mad Men, wanting to hand out awards for Most Impressive Defiance of Gravity to all the women on that show. They sure know how to wear a sweater. (Joan, I’m looking at you.) Sometimes, though, I don’t give enough thought to boobs, like when I realize that I’ve been out all day long with only one side of my nursing bra done up. 



I love my world populated with breasts. And as someone who has been nursing for the better part of four years, most of my boob-related conversations have something to do with breastfeeding. I am addicted to breastfeeding. I loved nursing Alyce, and I still love nursing Shira. It’s been one of my favourite things about having young babies and I could list a hundred things that I love about it. Instead I’ll give you this many: babies are warm tucked in bed with you while you breastfeed, they have chubby little fingers with which to poke you (yes, in the boob) while they enjoy a meal, breastfeeding makes all most of their problems disappear, and it’s easily accessible. I know that breastmilk is the absolute perfect food for my babies and I’m more than impressed that my body knows how to make this perfect food. But breastfeeding is not all about the glory. Sometimes it’s really hard and annoying, and here’s why: in the beginning it can really hurt (like the kind of hurt that involves blood and blisters), babies eventually grow teeth and mine have always liked to test them out on my nipple, just to see what happens (I get really mad, that’s what happens), and breastfeeding is not always conducive to working outside the home, especially in countries with crappy parental leave. (U.S.A., I’m looking at you.)


I happily call myself a breastfeeding activist. I think all mother’s should be encouraged to breastfeed, and encouragement means more than just a nurse or doctor suggesting that it might be a good idea at a prenatal appointment. I could list a hundred things that mothers need to support happy breastfeeding, but instead I’ll give you this many: mothers need to see other mothers breastfeed, access to non-bathroom like places to nurse when they are out of the house and want some privacy, reliable access to board certified lactation consultants, and extended parental leave. And one more thing: they need to live in a culture where breastfeeding is normal, where mothers aren’t asked to leave public places or given the stink-eye for feeding their baby. Mothers need our support. They need your support.



But do you know what else mother’s need? Choice. They love choices. I love breastfeeding and I want everyone to love it as much as I do (yes, I actually mean that), but if a woman chooses to feed her baby formula, for whatever reason, that is her choice. Do I want her to have had access to as much information about breastfeeding? I sure do. But should she be ashamed of her decision to feed her baby formula. Absolutely not. Motherhood is hard work. Let’s not add shame to the mix.

Catherine Connors over at Her Bad Mother brought our attention this week to a debate going on over at Babble, regarding Babble's decision to allow formula advertizing on its site. Critics have declared that such advertizing stands in the way of breastfeeding and as such should be removed from any responsible discussions of parenting. Connors points out that that such a call to remove formula ads insults a mother's ability to view these ads as advertizing, somehow tricking mothers into believing that formula is the best choice.  "I’m a grown-up, you guys," Connors reminds us,  "I know what commercial speech is. I am capable of parsing information from advertisers. I am not stupid. I can make up my own mind." Demonizing formula feeding demonizes those who choose to feed their babies formula, and no matter what anyone says, demonizing formula demonizes the mother who feeds it to her baby. There is no separating the sin from the sinner here. Calling on Babble to remove all formula ads is harmful to mothers because it shames them. As Connors writes:

It shames working mothers who have to bottle feed because they can’t be with their babies all day and it shames mothers who are unable to breastfeed and it shames mothers who truncate their breastfeeding relationship with their babies for the sake of their mental health. It shames any mother who has paused and wondered, even for a moment, whether things wouldn’t be easier for her, whether she mightn’t be better able to cope, whether she mightn’t be happier (because isn’t a happy mom best for baby?) if, maybe, just maybe, she didn’t breastfeed. It shames any mother who regards the method by which she nourishes her babies as her personal choice.

I haven't loved my own experiences with formula companies. I was furious that my name was given to a formula company after the birth of my first daughter, resulting in a free sample can being mailed to my house. I think we need to stand up against misleading formula advertizing.  But I don't think they way to promote breastfeeding is to shame mothers away from formula. I love the community of mothers I've found online since having my daughters, and I've often relied on their conversations while learning how to parent my kids, or just to have some company on those days when the hard work of being a mother feels especially hard. There is such a population of intelligent, thoughtful, and hilarious parents out there. Let's give less room to shame and more room for reminding each other that children are awesome and ridiculous.

So head over to the original article here and see what you think. I'd also suggest that you check out the comments, which are for the most part, a balanced conversation with many different opinions--not something you often get when this topic shows up. I've left out so many important issues about promoting breastfeeding versus formula feeding, and this complicated issue deserves so much more space. But I was so happy to see someone calling out this shaming of mothers that I needed to give this conversation some space all of its own.

Plus I just love talking about boobs. Whether you use them to feed your baby or not.