When a mother is blessed with nipples the size of dinner plates, can this interfere with her baby's dining experience? Indeed it can. Very large nipples can make it hard for the baby to get enough of the areola into his mouth to compress the milk ducts and get enough milk. Fortunately, the latch for babies of mothers with very large nipples will improve with time as the baby grows. However it can take several weeks to get the baby to latch well. In the meantime, if your baby is losing weight and you're being bullied by relatives and health professionals, how's a mom to preserve her sanity as well as her breastfeeding relationship? This is the story of one anxious new mother. Her breastfeeding journey was so stressful that she ended up collapsing and being sent to hospital. If this story had a soundtrack it would surely be the Queen song 'Under Pressure', thankfully followed by their other great hit 'Don't Stop Me Now'.


“From the start, my parents didn't support my breastfeeding efforts. My mother had breastfed me for 11 weeks and then she thought her milk had dried up. I had started losing weight at that age, so she stopped abruptly. At that point her milk came in abundance, but she didn't try to breastfeed me again, for she liked the fact that she could now see how much cc I was getting . When I was pregnant she had very old fashioned ideas about breastfeeding, as well as my father. They wanted me to harden my nipples with hard towels and icecubes. I did try the icecubes, but only a couple of times before I found out it was bad for your nippels and ultimately bad for your breastfeeding success. 

I tried to counter-act my parents negative influence by gaining as much knowledge as I possibly could. I attended prenatal courses, I went to breastfeeding classes and I read numerous books on the subject. My husband advised against searching on internet, for there would be lots of contradicting information, so I didn’t use that medium unfortunately. With the information I did have I wrote a detailed birth-plan, which I gave to the doctors at hospital. I had lots of complications during pregnancy, so I had to deliver my baby in hospital (which isn’t standard here in the Netherlands). 

My birth-plan was mainly around breastfeeding. For example I didn’t want any drugs or pain relief, I wanted my baby on my stomach for at least an hour after birth and I didn’t want the staff to give formula. These requests were uncommon, for I had pregnancy diabetes. But I knew my baby was fine, because I discovered it when I was 24 weeks along (considered early). Since that time I stopped eating sugar and lower my carbs, so the sugar level of my blood was always within limits. Furthermore every other week during my check-ups I received an ultrasound and my baby was always of average size. He never did get an explosive growth, common for babies with mothers with diabetes. So I wasn’t afraid of a hypo. The gynecologist agreed, so I felt good about the forthcoming delivery. 

Delivery day

The day came and we drove to hospital. But when we arrived it was really hard to convince the staff that my baby didn’t need a check-up from the pediatrician right after birth, although our gynecologist didn’t only agree, he had looked it up and discussed it with my diabetes doctor and was convinced it was best for my baby to be with me right after birth. But the hospital staff needed to consult it with him, even though he had written a consent form. Arguing my case whilst in labor was very stressful. In the end they agreed to let the baby stay with me for an hour, but no longer than that. Then my husband could hold him and dress him and bring him to the pediatrician for a check-up. 

Within 4 hours of arriving at hospital and being in labour for only 6 hours, it was time to push. My contractions and my pushes were so violent that our little guy’s heartbeat dropped to an alarming level. The gynecologist came in and said he had to help the delivery by using a pump. So my little one came to this world with a headache. For all the information I had consumed, I’d never read anything about that being a hurdle to breastfeeding. However the reality is that it would take an average of 2 days longer for my milk to come in. As it turned out later, the books I’d read, advised to me by my breastfeeding class-instructor were seriously out of date and at least 20 years old, riddled with false assumptions. 

Should it hurt?

As I lay with my baby, the nurse told me that he seemed to be latched on. I asked her if it was supposed to hurt. She said that it almost always hurt in the beginning. The next ‘feeds’ hurt even more and I didn’t think my baby was latched on properly or getting anything. I didn’t see or hear him swallow; it looked more like a nibble to me. But what did I know? He was so tired after the traumatic delivery that he slept a lot, so the nurse said that he must be getting something or else he wouldn’t be this satisfied. 

Meanwhile the staff tried to convince me to give him formula because of the diabetes. I refused, and consequently I had to stay in hospital for another 24 hours so that my baby’s sugar level could be checked every 3 hours. All the results came back perfect. Phew.

Latch issues

That night another nurse reluctantly stayed with me when I tried out different positions to nurse. She didn’t watch me feed and her advice was beyond questionable. She said that if you feed in a laying down position where you and your baby both lay on your side, your baby was supposed to suck on the upper breast so to speak. This didn't work at all and for a long time I believed I could only feed sitting up as these were the only 2 positions she discussed with me. 


Luckily there was a better nurse in the morning shift. She saw that my baby actually hadn’t latched on properly yet, just as I had thought. He didn’t have the right technique - he tried to push his tongue over my nipple, slipped off a lot and just found a place to suck, just right of my nipple, where there was now a big blister. Ouch! With her help my baby finally latched on and I immediately felt the difference. But latching on was difficult. It took me 20 minutes to get him properly latched on. By that time he was so tired, he didn’t drink very long before he let go again. We both didn’t have the right technique figured out yet, but despite this we were told was time to go home after just 24 hours in hospital. 

Harrowing home visits

We phoned maternity care and they promised to have someone at our house before we would arrive there, as is normal in the Netherlands. Every woman has the right to a nurse a couple of hours per day for the first 8 days after birth to help learn how to take care of the baby or help out around the house. She arrived 4 hours late and was not in a good mood. She was supposed to help me through the weekend with my breastfeeding problems and even though it was her job, she was upset to have been called and have her plans disrupted. She noticed our poor latching technique and my now split nipples, but couldn’t help. I told her that my nipples were flat and asked if it mattered. She said it shouldn’t. My baby was so hungry that he slept for 20 minutes, took 20 minutes to finally latch on, tried to nurse for 20 minutes, was too tired and then sleep for another 20 minutes. And this went on day and night. By the time I laid him down and had fallen asleep, he was up and ready again. 

The maternity care nurse told me my breasts must be empty and I shouldn’t feed my baby so often because my breasts needed rest, time to heal and time to fill up again for a couple of hours. My commitment to feeding on demand was ignored. By this point I was so insecure as a mother that I believed her! I didn’t know that breasts are constantly making milk. In retrospect, I realize this was really bad advice in general, but especially for a mother like me, who had large flat nipples. By the time I was ‘allowed’ to feed, my breasts looked like balloons, completely round, and my baby had an even harder time latching on to them! The nurse also told me to start using nipple shields, but I duly did. However my large nipples kept scraping up and down the shield. Consequently my pain increased tenfold. I promptly stopped using them, against her advice.  

I must admit that I thought about quitting many times. Especially after 'professionals' told me that I would fail. They were supposed to know and had lots of experience. One reason I didn't stop was that I was terrified of SIDS and I knew one could reduce the chances by breastfeeding. And that's the only thing that kept me going in the beginning. I knew that if I would quit I could never forgive myself if something would happen to our baby. I asked the nurse how much chance there was for babies to die of SIDS. She said that it didn't matter.

It was now Saturday night and my poor little baby kept crying. I didn’t know what to do. I tried to feed him, but nothing seemed to work. Worst of all I heard his stomach grumbling. I felt like a failure of a mum and cried along with him. Because the nurse had told me to leave my breasts alone for a couple of hours after every feed, I thought that my breasts were empty and didn’t know what to do but hold my crying hungry baby. Thinking about that night still makes me cry even now, and feel like the worst mother in the world.


The nurse came back in the morning and in tears I told her about my baby’s hunger. She criticised me for not having formula as a backup. She also told me of her worries about my baby’s weight. At this point he’d lost almost 20% of his birthweight! Yet this was the first time she had mentioned it. She’d never shared her worries before, so this was the first I’d heard about it. I felt terribly guilty. Why had I been so obsessed with breastfeeding? I had let my baby starve! 
 
The nurse also told me that the baby had lost so much weight because of all the visitors we’d had. So we were not allowed to have any visitors for at least week, to give my baby a rest. My husband and I were in shock. What had we done to our child? Looking back this comment was appalling, for only our parents, my brother and my husband’s sister had seen our baby at this point, and not even all at once.

A midwife came to perform a check up. She was concerned as well, but much sweeter about it. She saw my breasts and they were a mess: bloody, split, awful. The nurse told her and me that she thought breastfeeding wasn’t an option for me, that I should start to formula feed. The midwife, after seeing my nipples (they were the worst she had ever seen apparently) and seeing the weight of my son, agreed. I told them that I really wanted to breastfeed and asked if there wasn’t another option for me. The midwife said that I could try pumping my milk after every feed and to top up with formula. They provided a handpump for me and told me to only feed or pump during day hours, “so I could give my breasts a rest at night”. They also provided formula, which they gave to my husband to feed. In my weak state I still asked if this could cause nipple confusion and diminish my chances of getting to breastfeed my baby. They both told me that“nipple confusion is a myth” and the nurse repeatedly said she believed I should give up on the breastfeeding thing altogether as clearly I would fail anyway.

Bullying grandparents

My parents instructed me to feed on schedule as my mother had done. Every 3 to 4 hours. I told them that it was better to feed on demand, but they didn't listen. They would ask how many times I was feeding and told me it wasn't normal and that this was the reason I had slipped into a dark state, why my baby didn't sleep through the night, why I was tired, and so on. 


Meanwhile I felt terrible about the formula. I cried whenever my husband fed our baby. That should have been me, with my breasts! I cried even more whenever I got downstairs to nurse my child and discovered that the nurse had beaten me to it. There was a stranger feeding my child. I started pumping and I could only pump 3 cc left and 6 cc right. My nurse told me it should have been 40cc by now, because it was the fourth day. So I felt even more guilty. My breasts must have been empty, my poor baby! I was so stressed that sometimes I couldn’t pump anything at all. Not knowing that pumping is a really bad indicator of how much milk your baby gets straight from the breast.

On Monday another nurse came to visit. Because of our poor technique the tops of my nipples now had literally come off. So the new nurse told me that I shouldn’t even try to put my baby to the breast anymore. I asked them about my production. If I didn’t put baby to the breast, how was I supposed to get my milk started? The doctor prescribed oxytocin. I was to use it every time right before pumping to make letdown easier. The nurse advised that I buy an electric double pump.

I started to pump day as well as night, against their advice. Here I had the same problem as with the nipple shields. My nipples were too big even for the largest flange, so it hurt, but I was determined to breastfeed. Afraid they might forbid me to pump and that they would force to completely formula feed, I didn’t mention the pain to anyone.

The new nurse gave my child the bottle as well. I told her that I didn’t like it, that I wanted to be the one to feed my baby, even though I couldn’t give my own milk all the time, and that I especially wanted to be the one to give my son my pumped milk. I wanted him to know that that taste and smell belonged to me, his mother. She told me that giving a bottle was the highlight of her work and that I shouldn’t be so emotional about it. She said I was being ridiculous, and asked how I thought children got fed in daycare. I told her that I was to be a stay at home mum. But this didn’t get through to her. 

I missed nursing my child so much. I cried every day, every hour, every feeding time. And felt like a terrible mum. I thought my baby must be so confused, maybe he didn’t even realize that I was his mother with this nurse feeding him all the time. I certainly didn’t feel like much of a mum. After 5 days I begged in tears to please let me put my baby to the breast again. Imagine how low my self-esteem as a mother was at this point, to think it necessary to have approval from a maternity care nurse, before making a decision which benefited my child. The first time that little body was on top of mine again, searching for my breast and successfully doing as nature intended I sobbed. I hadn’t felt this happy and emotional in a good way since the birth.

Sent back to hospital

Having a baby is the best thing that happened to me and made me realize how fragile life is. At night I kept checking that he was still breathing. When he was quiet I was scared, but even when he made a sound I was scared as well. I hadn’t slept at all since the birth. Meanwhile my baby kept losing weight, even though he was topped off with formula. I was absolutely exhausted, sad and frightened, and I couldn’t think straight anymore. I even fainted. At that point my doctor sent my baby and me back to hospital. He was worried about us both. He advised me to think about stopping breastfeeding, for it was such an ordeal for me. But breastfeeding was the only thing at this point that I felt remotely good about. I really believe it saved me from even deeper postnatal depression. 

In hospital I finally got a nurse who had breastfed herself! And she was able to help my baby to use a better technique and teach me how I could tell when my son had a poor latch. She also spotted the beginning of mastitis and helped me get rid of it before it got worse. 

Unfortunately she wasn’t there all of the time. There was one nurse who said I was to feed my baby for 30 minutes every 3 hours. When I mentioned that I was feeding on demand, she simply asserted that baby’s need structure. At this point it still took 10 minutes to get him to latch on, so he’d have only 20 minutes to feed according to the hospital rules. At home he easily took an hour, sometimes an hour and a half each feed. I also had found out that if I changed my son’s diaper after one breast, he was awake enough to be able drink the other as well. But here I was not allowed to do that. My baby was being weighed before and after every feed to find out how much he’d gotten and how much formula he ‘needed’. This nurse came in exactly 30 minutes later, took my child away from me and left me to pump alone. But I couldn’t pump without my baby. I was down to 3cc and 6cc again or even nothing, if I couldn’t see, hear, smell or feel my baby. If he was with me I could pump 50cc in total after every feed. I told the nurse that this wasn’t working for me or my baby, but she wouldn’t listen. My baby was still topped up with formula if he didn’t weigh enough or couldn’t get enough pumped milk to top up with. And because he didn’t drink long enough, he wasn’t gaining enough and because the nurse took him with her and left me to pump by myself, I wasn’t able to pump enough, so he started to get more and more formula. 

In tears I told my husband the next day that this particular nurse wouldn’t listen to me and was standing in the way of our recovery. Fortunately my husband got angry and spoke to her. She told him I was to recover as well as our baby, so I needed my sleep (which indeed I desperately needed, but I needed my baby even more) and she didn’t have the time to weigh our son before and after a diaper change in addition to weighing him before and after a feed. My husband arranged that he was to take over a part of the night-shift, so he could weigh our son 4 times each feed; he’d change the diaper in between breasts and he gave the bottle of pumped milk to our son in my room, so I was able to see, hear and smell our boy while I pumped. Fortunately in a couple of days my son was only getting my milk and formula was no longer necessary!

However he was still being taken away from me at nighttime and I wasn’t allowed to cuddle him much during the day either. It broke my heart. I wanted my baby near me and I still felt he couldn’t possibly know who his mother was, for other woman held him more than I was allowed to. I’d asked several nurses to bring my baby to me. As I had a very low hb level, for I still was losing a lot of blood, I wasn’t able to walk, let alone carry my baby myself. At last I found a nurse who saw that a mother should be with her child and she brought him to me every day. 

It wasn’t until this point that my production finally kicked in and soon there was no need for bottles any more. I was over the moon. As my hb levels were reaching the norm as well, we were finally released and ready to go home. Funny enough, my boy never again so much as touched a bottle or pacifier again! I believe he just naturally knew what was best for him and never wanted anything else again.

At last I was able to breastfeed my baby, but it was far from ideal. It still hurt at lot, so much that I dreaded the moment my son would wake up and need another feed. I used to have tears in my eyes all the time and sometimes I wasn’t able to withhold a yelp of pain. But I was too afraid to ask for help at this point. Afraid someone might say I needed to stop breastfeeding all together. So I bit my lip and kept going. 

Lactation consultant with a hidden agenda

After 6 weeks my husband called a lactation consultant. We drove to see her, so she could check if my son was properly latched on. She said he did have a funny way, but she couldn’t find anything particularly wrong with his latch. Since his lower lip was curled around my breast, it was just 'his style' and that there was nothing she or anyone else could or should do about it. He didn’t have a tongue-tie and milk was coming, so that was that. She said she was an expert on breastfeeding and had helped lots of new mothers in her years as a nurse. She'd never mentioned that she herself never successfully breastfed her own children and that she never even took a breastfeeding course as a nurse.  To her credit though, she recognized that my nipples were in such a state, so bad as she had never witnessed before, what with the tops being sucked off altogether and the wounds constantly reopening every feed and bleeding. She advised me to use ‘Mother Mates’, to heal the wounds on my nipples. Mother Mates are silicone gel pads, with a substance in them. This substance is also used in hospitals, it is designed to make wounds heal faster. You use them in between feeds and you have to wash your breasts before each feed with warm water.

The mothermates helped, I must admit. My nipples did heal with them and it did relieve some of my pain. But it took another 10 weeks before breastfeeding was pain free and another 3 months after that before it became easy and enjoyable. Then when my son got his upper front teeth it started to hurt again! As I later found out, my son might not have had a tongue-tie, but he did have a severe lip-tie. This prevented him from properly curling his upper lip around my large nipple. He sucks a part inwards, so to speak. Why hadn’t the lactation consultant looked into that? She must have had the knowledge? And with hindsight it was quite easy to detect. This probably caused his latching problems in the beginning and my production problems too! On the upside: now I know what to look for if we are blessed enough to have more children.

Family dismay at extended breastfeeding

Even though at 6 months there were no longer any technical problems with breastfeeding, the hurdles were far from over. At this point my family and friends started to question why I wasn’t stopping and just giving ‘normal’ milk. I thought they must have lost their minds! After all the trouble I had been through it was finally easy to feed and these people wanted me to stop?! There was not a hair on my head thinking about that. When I started, I never imagined to feed past 8 months, for that was the longest anyone in my family had given bf. I just didn’t have the experience that one could feed after that. When the time came though, I was determined to carry on. My in-laws found me very selfish. How were they able to babysit for a full day, if my son was on the breast? How was he to sleep over? 

Tricked into early solids

In the Netherlands there is an organization called the Consultation Bureau. This bureau keeps an eye on the development of your child until the age of 4. You see the nurses and doctors who work there frequently and they weigh and measure your child and ask questions, give simple tasks to your child, etc. What I am about to say still makes me feel utterly ashamed of myself. The CB nurse told me that my baby needed to be fed fruit or porridge from the age of 4 months onwards. Even though I never heard of the virgin gut at this point, I didn’t feel right about it and so didn’t start to give the prescribed porridge until my son was 5 months old. I still feel so guilty about giving him solids before 6 months. 

At 6 months old my boy had had an explosive growth in weight. The nurses asked me how many feeds I was still giving him. I told them truthfully I was at about 7 feeds a day. They told me that this was abnormal and was the reason for his weight gain. They instructed that I should reduce the feeds to 3 or a maximum of 4 a day or my son would become too heavy. Naturally I wanted what was best for my baby and since I had nobody to compare this information with, as everyone I knew just gave formula, I thought this must be normal and I started to reduce the feeds. How foolish I had been! I should have been more observant, mindful and responsible. Even more so when I found out, when my boy was 8 months old that the baby porridge prescribed contains formula! When I found out I was horrified and stopped immediately. I had been very clear to the bureau that I didn’t want my baby to have another drop of formula after our rough beginning and I had trusted these professionals. I felt betrayed and like a terrible mother. How could I have been so naive! From this moment onwards I started to read as much information I could find on the subject of breastfeeding - on the internet. I found out that it is not normal to reduce feeds, that a baby is very capable of deciding for himself when to reduce feeds. I started to feed on demand again and was able to increase my production. 

Interestingly from the minute my son ate the porridge containing formula he gained a lot of weight very quickly. At 8 months he was really chubby. When I stopped the porridge, but increased the feeds again, his weight centile slowly dropped to match his length again. Personally I feel that this cannot be a coincidence no matter what my doctor says about it. Now I was finally feeding my son as intended by mother nature. We both enjoyed it at last. Whenever I did have questions I was now a member of a breastfeeding forum online, which was a relief. I should have sought out more help a lot sooner, but unfortunately I can’t go back. 

Incest jibes

When my son reached the age of 1 there was a renewed flow of critique that I was still breastfeeding him. My parents couldn’t believe I was still feeding my son more times per day than my mum ever did with me. As he was “no longer a baby” a lot of people found it strange to keep nursing him. Even the ‘professionals’ at the bureau were no longer pro-bf. There was one nurse with the nerve to tell me that I really should start reducing my feeds, for when my boy turned 1 she thought breastfeeding was turning into incest!! But at this point I had learned that none of the so-called experts there had successfully breastfed their children, so I just discarded this advice and keep breastfeeding as I felt was right, natural and logical. 

Today, despite my problems, or perhaps because of them, I am determined and extremely motivated to continue breastfeeding. My parents advise me to stop every month or so. My mother is envious that I still feed my son when she 'couldn't' bf me. Yet nothing will keep me from reaching the WHO goal of 2 years. Nothing except my son that is, who is the one to choose when our breastfeeding-period will end. He is 17 months old and still wants at least 7 feeds a day, so luckily I don’t see that day coming any time soon. Secretly I hope it will take at least another year or more. And if I’ll ever have another baby, I now know what to do, what to look for and first and foremost what not to do!

I really feel sorry for the mums who have never breastfed their babies. It is such a unique experience, it gives such joy and is such an act of love, I wish every woman could experience that! And I feel sorry for the babies as well.”
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Many women’s breasts have endured a battle or two, whether as the recipient of an excited baby’s kick, manhandling by midwifes, over-enthusiastic ‘admiration’ by menfolk, or even a stubborn handbag strap. Most of the time, these everyday jolts have zero impact on the breast’s ability to lactate. However, occasionally trauma to the breast can injure tissue, potentially interfering with milk drainage and even production.

You are about to read the story of one new mother that experienced injury to her breasts well before her baby was born. Little did she know that this accident would come back to haunt her. By reading her story, you will gain valuable insight into the warning-signs indicating that previous breast trauma may have future consequences.


“We planned to have a natural childbirth and breastfeed. However planning and doing are not always the same thing, as I came to find out.

At the start of my pregnancy I was in a car accident. A woman was on her phone while speeding and had hit me head on. The seatbelt was so tight that it created huge bruised sections of my breasts. I was unaware at the time what a huge impact this relatively minor accident would come to have.

Distressing Birth

We opted to induce labor because my son’s positioning was cutting off circulation to my legs and they were turning blue regularly. At almost two weeks past due he was making no plans to come out on his own. I wanted a natural birth and figured I could accomplish that at least partly with an induction.

All I can remember about the second half of labor was passing out after every contraction and waking up only to scream in pain. It was horrible. My poor husband was nearly in tears and my mother was nervously watching the monitors as I became tachycardic.

When I was told to push I was giving it everything I had but it wasn't good enough. I pushed for almost four hours straight. The final few minutes were so scary. The doctors and nurses got suddenly very scary looks on their faces. One nurse started pushing on my stomach, nearly standing on me. Another took my right leg and laid it flat back while one more did the same on my left. I heard the doctor yelling "call the NICU!" repeatedly. My mother moved back as they kept yelling for me to "push with everything you have".

Finally, our son was born, measuring 23” long and weighing a massive 10lb 8 oz. He was so large that he got stuck (Shoulder Dystocia) and broke his collarbone on his way out. Our plan of having him laid on my chest and being able to breastfeed him right away was stalled by tests. He was taken by the infant care unit and they placed a line in his arm for an IV and he was given a long list of tests to make sure he hadn't been injured further. He was beautiful and I was barely conscious. I couldn't even swallow sips of water without choking because I was so exhausted.

I was given antibiotics because I was group B strep positive. I wish the nurses had not done this, for reasons that will become apparent, but it was considered mandatory routine. All pregnant women at our hospital are tested for Group B strep at 38 weeks. A positive result, which is according to them one in three women, are given a mandatory IV of antibiotics. I did not want it and protested but was told it was mandatory.

With time I regained some strength and was excited to finally have my son with me and thought that we would just breastfeed naturally. After all, I was built to do this so how hard could it be? Well, as they say, nothing worth doing is ever easy.

Coerced Supplementation

As my son was so large and I was so weak I was told that I needed to supplement. I fought it but the lactation consultant was not in that day and I had to go off the advice of the nurse who was all too happy to give my son the free formula. I cried when they told me to supplement. I had come prepared with nursing tops, breast pads, and the attitude that my child would keep his 'virgin gut' and get nothing but the best. The nurses said they understood my worries but that because my son was so big I wouldn't be able to feed him exclusively. I knew he was large but did he really need 3 ounce formula servings? According to the nurse he did. So, we supplemented. The nurse brought me a pump to try to stimulate my milk coming in but we didn't make nearly as much as he was drinking. It was depressing. I spiralled into the baby blues quickly. I felt inadequate and underprepared for motherhood. After we were discharged I wanted so desperately to never see a bottle again but he was so hungry and the milk wasn't coming in fast enough. Had I known to just put him to the breast so I could build my supply we might have had more success sooner.

Feeding my son formula was a disaster. The milk gave him gas and bloated him. He was extra irritable. Not knowing any better, we just assumed this was normal. It wasn't...

Latching Issues

Latching difficulties began early on. My son was so eager for food that he latched hard and it was extremely painful. I kept seeing the consultant and it wasn't until my mother-in-law commented on my husband being a tongue tied baby that I realized our baby had the same problem. From there we had to find a doctor to clip it for us. When he opened his mouth it was so very obvious. The very tip of his tongue was attached and when he cried out it curled up on both sides making a V.

Since breastfeeding is not the norm in America, the doctors are no longer looking for tongue tied infants so he was overlooked. We spent 3 weeks trying to get it fixed. For something so simple, it was extremely complicated. We went to our doctor first who then called the lactation consultant. Our consultant verified it and then we had to search for a doctor in our practice that had clipped a tie previously. None had. Not a single one. It was a total shock. My husband had been tongue tied and his mother had taken him to the doctor where they clipped it immediately, not an issue. We were eventually sent to the maxillofacial surgery section of our hospital where they had to find someone who could do it. By the rules of the hospital, the doctor had to sedate our son to do it but because of his age, we had to have him monitored for 24 hours before and after sedation for safety. So, to clip his tongue we needed to spend 48 hours in the hospital for a 10 second snip. Absurd. We argued that this was irrational and the doctor agreed. He said that he would ask around and came back with the solution that he would consider it a "pathology sample" and a teaching tool to get around the red tape. So we came back and there was a room full of doctors and nurses who watched and took notes on how to clip the frenulum. If it wasn't such a pathetic statement about modern medicine it would have been comical. I once again felt helpless and defeated.

To complicate matters, feeding was so difficult that he was being bottle fed more than breast fed so my supply wasn't where it should have been. It took weeks to make up for lost time.

Burning Thrush

To add to the list of 'what else can possibly go wrong now', I got thrush. Bad thrush. I had to diagnose it myself and fight for it to be taken seriously. I had cracks on my nipples that were painful, deep and everywhere. Half of the latches would result in my baby having a mouthful of blood. The other half I just closed my eyes and prayed for the feeding to be over. I felt like I lived in fear of feeding my son. I was taking Percocet to deal with the pain because it was so bad. We had been given antibiotics in the hospital when he was born and that had depleted our systems, causing the thrush.

To treat the thrush, they gave me more antibiotics, creams and drops for his mouth. 3 weeks consisting of 2 rounds of the treatment and no change. It was excruciating. I didn't want to shower because the water stabbed my chest, I wanted nothing to touch me. I was also feeling deep pains in my breasts once he started feeding and these lasted until up to two hours after feeding. Since my son feeds often and for long periods, the pain became a round the clock event. I became deeply depressed. That is when I decided that if I could just make it to 6 months, I could stop there. I was determined not to quit. My husband's mother breastfed him until 3 1/2 so I had a good role model and she had sent me a copy of "The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding" which I read cover to cover three times during all of this. I still use it as a reference guide.

I did hours of research online regarding thrush and found that a simple over the counter dye could treat it. Why had I not heard of this? Why had my doctors and lactation consultant not heard of this? The answer was very simple. There is no money to be had by drug companies when people can fix their own problems. I bought a bottle of Gentian Violet online and used it. Within 24 hours, the latch pain was over. The burning was over. The only thing left was deep throbbing pain.

My lactation consultant, who I was seeing every single week and calling constantly was a gem. She was determined to help me through it all. She had asked me how committed I was and wouldn't quit looking for answers to my questions. At this point, we pretty much already had a Bingo. I had survived:

• supplementation by the hospital staff,
• bad latches,
• thrush,
• mastitis,
• a plugged duct (from my baby being so large that the chest carrier was pushing down and plugging things),
• peer pressure from unhelpful friends and family who said it wasn't worth all the hassle and another who said that breastfeeding "wasn't normal. That is why we have formula so we don't have to be so stuck in old ways.
• one inverted nipple (ouch!)
• difficult birth and large size
• tongue tie and incompetent medical staff
• and an unknown deep throbbing persistent pain

Public Breastfeeding Raised Eyebrows

Because we live in the South some people on the streets are very against feeding in public. I sat in my car once with a cover over my son and had to hear women outside my car saying that it wasn't descent. I was horrified. It was my first time feeding him outside the comfort of our own home. To add to the mental pain, I was still dealing with the physical so it was what almost ended it. That was the day that I found The Alpha Parent and I decided to keep up with it and surround myself with positive role models and support.

When the pain wouldn't leave, my lactation consultant started asking to do a series of tests. I was supposed to look at the nipple and watch for color changes. I had to try feeding after warming my breasts and after cooling them off. She then asked if I had ever had trauma to the breasts. I told her about the car accident. She had figured out the last barrier....Raynaud's.

Raynaud's Phenomenon

What in the heck is Raynaud's Phenomenon? My doctor asked the same thing. Not a single doctor at my hospital had heard of it for breastfeeding. The lactation consultant we had been seeing said that she had only ever heard of one case of it before and had to print journal studies out for our medical staff to read through. The car accident severely damaged the breast tissue and I was to need blood pressure medicine to act as a vasodilator to stop the pain. Whenever it gets even a bit chilly the whole area shuts down and the pain starts. To counter this, the vasodilator keeps the veins open and the pain stays away. I was put on the smallest dose and eventually worked up to the maximum dosage 4 times a day. Additionally I have to keep warm. Anytime it gets cold the pain comes back, the nipple goes bright white and the breast starts to turn blue and white. With the warm weather it is not so bad but once the cold air hits it is a downhill slide. I took to heating rice filled bags to lay over myself during feedings to ensure warmth.

So, it ends there right? I fixed the thrush, the Raynaud's and all the other supply and pain issues. It can't get any worse from there.
Wrong. What is life without a little adventure?

Allergy

Through an elimination diet and the guidance of our doctors, we have discovered that my son has multiple protein intolerance (The official diagnosed is FPIES ‘Food Protein-Induced Enterocolitis Syndrome’). For me that means that I literally cannot bottle feed him. There is even a lab created formula that is supposed to be free of milk proteins but it is still made from cow's milk. Since he does not have the enzymes to digest animal proteins, casein, dairy and soy in all forms I am his only way to get nutrition for a long time. We had to remove almost all food from our home and start from scratch. On the list of offending foods is turkey, chicken, eggs, beef, all dairy products, all soy products, pea products, and peanuts.

My son was born a vegetarian which would not be a problem since I am an avid gardener but as I’m his food supply I have to follow his diet. So for now I have a strict diet of no processed food whatsoever.  No dairy, no meat, no vegetable oil (soybean derived), no beans, no peanuts (soy family), and no eating out at all. My diet is a complete 180 from what it used to be. Imagine going to the grocery store. Before I would walk the aisles and pick out groceries and snacks. Now, I read every label looking for hidden dangers. Food, once my friend, is now my son's enemy. I have reduced the grocery store to one section: the fresh veg. Even the bread aisle is off limits because soy flour sneaks into everything. Soy hides everywhere. Milk hides everywhere. I can no longer eat out. If I can't read the label or trust that vegetable oil isn't being used to grease the pan, I can't eat it. I end up with a plain chopped salad, no dressing and veg on top. That gets old quick. If I cheat on my strict diet, my son pays for it in horrible gas, bloating, bleeding intestines, irritability and weeks of diarrhoea. I just cannot do that to my sweet child just because I want a cheeseburger.

The pediatric allergist said one of the two factors contributing to this (luck of the genes being the first) was the antibiotics at birth and again to treat the thrush. Had we not been forced to have the antibiotics this might not have happened. I wish I could go back and talk to the nurses that forced an IV on our precious newborn baby. She thought she was doing best but really she set him up for failure, and our family will be fighting through this until he is 5 or 6.

Solid food introduction was put off until he turned 1 to help him from going into shock if an offending food enters his system. This meant that I exclusively breastfed him for 12 months. I am grateful that I didn't quit breastfeeding because clearly my son needs what only my milk can provide.

Is it worth it?

Absolutely. I have zero reservations about making a sacrifice for my son that will ultimately lead to a longer life for the whole family. For me, breastfeeding is important because it is a gift for both of us. Not only is it the best health for him, but it is also great for me. I enjoy how it has made my body bounce back quicker, how it gives me a closer bond with my son and how it nourishes both of our souls. It is something that can not be bottled, replicated or sold by anyone. For me, there is no other way to raise a child. It is not easy, it can be downright painful and hard at times but it is worth every milk blister, crack, swollen and tender breast and hiccup along the way.

Do I miss ice cream, the option of free time and nights out with a babysitter feeding my little guy....not as much as I value the gift I am giving to him. I know, without a doubt, that I am doing the best possible thing that I can possibly do for my child. I am giving him the gift of a future that is limitless because he has a start that can't be bottled.

Mothers Who Don’t Breastfeed...

I feel bad for mothers who don't make an attempt to breastfeed. They miss out on the bond, the health benefits and the freedom it offers. I don't have the stress of walking around with coolers or timing when the milk will be too contaminated to keep using. I have the freedom to just be a mother to my child and have food on demand. I met a woman who was changing her little one in a room with a few women breastfeeding. She was clearly feeling guilt about propping the bottle up into the face of her baby girl so she stated "I tried breastfeeding but I didn't make enough milk." I wanted to laugh because she had just told me her girl was only 3 weeks old. At that moment I realized that she simply didn't want to breastfeed. I thought about telling her all about how she could easily re-lactate at this point but I realized it would be falling on deaf ears.”


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A man called Pete Hunt has created a 'Breastfeeding Volume Monitor' which he is showcasing at a forthcoming design convention. The gadget is a...

"new and exciting product, which measures how much milk a baby is consuming during breastfeeding to give the mother peace of mind and ensure that they have a healthy feeding baby. The device gives real time feedback of how much a baby is consuming without interfering with the breastfeeding, so therefore action can be taken before the baby becomes ill, saving the baby’s health, medical costs and easing the parents’ anxieties" (Press release).

The device has a rubber panel that attaches to the mother's breast. This is then attached to a circuit board with a digital display.


My thoughts on this contraption? You don't need to be hooked up like C-3PO to know how much your baby is consuming. Diaper output and infant alertness are adequate gauges. I fear this device, whilst arguably well-intentioned, will provide more interference than it does assistance. It creates a barrier in the same way that a nipple shield does and so will restrict the flow of milk, causing baby to consume less than they would otherwise. Yet no doubt it will be spouted as ‘essential kit for breastfeeding mothers’ and purchased by preggos in their droves.

Furthermore, being a man-made device, it will be prone to malfunctioning, which will create false panic in mothers triggering them to abandon breastfeeding much earlier than they would have otherwise. Not to mention the fact that babies naturally consume different amounts at each feeding. Yet if the device is well received by medical professionals, it could become a diagnostic device pushed onto mothers during home visits and clinics.

The device reminds me of SIDS breathing monitors, which I examined here. These have a sensor pad that sits under the mattress of a baby’s crib to detect movement when the baby breathes, akin to the rubber sensor pad on this breastfeeding monitor. There is no evidence to show that such devices offer reassurance. In fact, they may only serve to increase parents’ worries because of the many inevitable false alarms. Bear in mind that breathing monitors do not prevent SIDS. The Foundation for the Study of Infant Deaths says that it is far better to know and practice preventative methods for dealing with SIDS than to rely on electronic monitors. Likewise, this ‘breastfeeding volume monitor’ will not correct any problems, latching or otherwise. Ironically, it is likely to create them.

My final conclusion:

This gadget contributes to the unfortunate modern obsession with intervention and measurement exacerbating the myth that women’s bodies are prone to fail. It is an attempt to cash in on mothers’ good intentions and insecurities. It turns what should be a relaxing, sensual and intimate interaction between mother and baby into a clinical test.

Many mothers the world over are concerned that their breast milk supply is inadequate. This anxiety leads to most of them abandoning breastfeeding earlier than they had planned. There is thus a large gap in the market for a gadget which can effectively and reliably measure breast milk production. I am pleased to reveal that I have discovered a device that meets these specifications, and has additional advantages!

The device is quite small, and thus portable. It can be strapped to the mother for hands-free usage or placed on the mother’s lap. While switched on, the device emits audio cues which indicate that milk is due to be tested. The device then follows a simple user-friendly test procedure: the unit attaches directly to the mothers breast producing a vacuum effect. This has been scientifically proven to extract milk more efficiently to a higher quantity than any other product to date, even surpassing hospital-grade breast pumps.  There is no need to use any additional attachments or aids such as rubber shields, flanges, shells or teats. The device can even be programmed to test larger quantities of milk over a period of time. One of the unique selling points of this product is that it has pre-installed motor and sensory applications including visual sensors, auditory sensors and olfactory sensors which provide a multi-faceted user experience. When not in use, the device has a sleep mode (however admittedly, in new devices this can be temperamental). Importantly, the device features a discrete feedback port which produces an accurate and user-friendly reading of milk production. The device is environmentally friendly and, with gentle maintenance, will provide the user with years of satisfaction. For illustrative purposes, here is a prototype diagram:

Click image for a larger view

Guilt, resentment, regret – all common millstones of the formula feeding mother. These emotions can be so chronic, that mothers carry them around for years, often becoming bitter and envious in the process. Yet it doesn’t have to be this way. There is a ‘get out of jail card’ for formula feeding mothers. There is salvation.

This is the story of one mother, whose attempt to breastfeed was sabotaged by medical professionals, family members and her own naivety. Consequently, she became a fully fledged formula feeder. But there's a twist. She discovered relactation– a way to reverse the cycle of sabotage and win back her maternal dignity.


“I had my mind set on breastfeeding. While pregnant I attending breastfeeding workshops and read book after book.  I was induced on my due date, due to Obstetric Cholestasis of Pregnancy.  Labor was a long process, induced on a Tuesday and finally born on the Friday morning. The birth itself wasn’t exactly the miraculous experience I had dreamed of - forceps with rotation and a 3rd degree tear. It was my first baby and I was thoroughly exhausted and overwhelmed by the whole ‘event’.

While I was recovering, I was told by one midwife that my nipples were perhaps too large for breastfeeding, so I should ‘watch that’ as it may cause ‘problems’. What a great start!

Jaundice

On Saturday I was allowed to go home, but it was short lived. I was readmitted on Sunday because my baby had severe jaundice, requiring phototherapy. We spent 5 more days in hospital, and during this time I was advised that my baby ‘must’ be given formula top ups to flush the jaundice out of her system.


Meddling in-laws

Thankfully after arriving home, I was permitted to return to exclusive breast feeding, which I duly did, much to the disapproval of my in-laws. I felt my in laws were never supportive of my choice to breastfeed. Perhaps it was genuine ignorance as my mother in law told me that she could never feed any of her 7 children as she never produced any milk, and my father in law told me over the phone that perhaps ‘the baby wasn’t getting enough’– when he breastfed, I’m not sure?? It was sadly the cause of a permanent shift in our relationship, as for me, they didn’t support me at a time when I was possibly the most vulnerable I had ever been in my adult life: I was a new mum, had a rough delivery, and was still unwell (the OC of pregnancy made me very unwell).  I needed support and encouragement rather than negative comments.

Weight issues

After 2 weeks of exclusive breastfeeding my baby was gaining weight, however apparently she was not gaining ‘sufficiently’ so the midwife instructed that I stop feeding on demand and ‘force’ my baby to go 3 hourly between feeds. To be honest, I felt exasperated. Her advice seemed to go against everything that I had read. Yet she wasn’t the sort of midwife that you would argue with (especially when it was your first child). I just wanted someone to help me and my baby and she was very clear that she was the professional and that it was advisable to follow her guidance.

So I followed her instructions and what do you know - my baby continued to fail to gain weight at the desired rate. At 4 weeks old my baby was admitted to hospital. Her eventual diagnosis was Gastro Oesophageal Reflux Disease.

The switch to formula

By this time, quite frankly, I was done in. Concerned about my baby, confused by the conflicting advice offered by so many people (one paediatric nurse told me ‘a mars bar is a good way to boost your milk supply’ without even finding out whether I had a problem with my milk supply – I knew I didn’t as I could pump 3-4 ozs after a feed, if anything it could have been a latching issue).  I was still trying to recover my own health and at this point I decided to take their ‘advice’ and formula feed, feeling that this would solve all our ‘issues’.

Recognising my mistake

As I began to feel healthier and stronger, I came to resent the fact that I had stopped breastfeeding. Feeding my baby naturally was something I had badly wanted to do and I was disappointed that I had stopped so soon.

"I would never be photographed with a bottle".

I felt embarrassed that I was using formula. There is so much information about the benefits of breastfeeding. I never EVER let anyone give my baby a bottle, not even my husband.  If I wasn’t breastfeeding her, I still wanted to be the sole source of nourishment in her eyes.  I followed all the steps you would when breastfeeding, eye contact, talking etc.  We would never have a bottle ‘on the go’, it was always as intimate an experience as possible.  These small steps helped me to feel a tiny bit better.

When my daughter was 10 weeks old I spoke to my mum about how deeply disappointed I was at abandoning my breastfeeding goals, and she simply replied ‘start again then’. Quite confused by this I asked her what she meant and she said, ‘well I never really thought of it as supply and demand, more of a demand and supply’ the more you put baby to breast the more milk you will get, you could breastfeed an adopted baby if you really wanted to’.

With this in mind I began to research relactation. I ordered the WHO guide to Relactation, rented a dual breast pump from the NCT, took all pacifiers away and dug my heels in.

The relactation journey

I made an appointment to see my local doctor to discuss the possibility of using Domperidone to help kickstart the relactation process. The doctor however, basically told me not to bother as it would be far too much effort. In all honesty, this only made me more determined.

I used the breast pump every 3 hours day and night, without fail for the next  8 weeks or so, in between this I put baby to breast. My mother was totally supportive. Motivational texts would come through in the small hours of the night and she’d come and do all the ‘boring’ jobs rather than asking to cuddle the baby – giving us time to bond and feed.


Other allies in my relactation mission were – books! I found the WHO guide fantastic for gaining a full understanding of how my body was working, and ‘The Breastfeeding Mother's Guide to Making More Milk’ was invaluable for my positioning, attachment and generally spurious queries that arose on an almost daily basis – that said, it was nothing different to the answers my mother would always give me, but I did have it to hand at 3am!

Pumping every 3 hours around the clock was hard, thankless work, however I think my determination to succeed carried me through. Once my milk was fully re-established I could leave it longer (5-6 hours) on occasion. Perhaps the hardest challenge of relactation was trying to figure out how to entertain the baby throughout my busy pumping schedule.  We’d move from room to room, sometimes in a cradle, sometimes on a play mat, always with my hanging over her chatting, pumps doing their thing.  One day, I was pumping sat in my sister’s kitchen, when a wasp started to dive bomb me, that was pretty challenging! lol.

What relactation meant to me

For me, relactation was essential to my self esteem. I went on to successfully breastfeed our daughter till she was 14 months old.

"Baby #2"

When our 2nd was born in March last year, I hooked out my 'Making More Milk' book again (for middle of the night referencing) but more importantly, I trusted myself.  We’re still breastfeeding (albeit it only once a day) now. He is 19 months old.

The relactation experience gave me such an understanding of breastfeeding that I encountered no problems with feeding my son – this time I finally had the experience I had anticipated (but not had) with my first child. The whole journey was a very emotional time for me and it made me very determined to become a breastfeeding counsellor once both my children are at school, so I can devote some time to providing others with the knowledge and support that I feel I didn’t get.

People who sabotage

Writing this story has encouraged me to reflect upon my experience, and in particular, the people I encountered (midwives, inlaws, doctors) who sabotaged my breastfeeding efforts. I’ve come to think that some people feel disappointed by their own breastfeeding experiences and perhaps don’t want to see others succeed at something they feel they didn’t succeed at/ missed out on. I felt such disappointment, but I didn’t turn this powerful emotion onto other people. Instead, I used it for positive means - to drive my relactation mission.

Message to formula feeding mothers

My message to formula feeding mums that are unhappy is – you can change, if you want to! I didn’t even know about relactation until my mother mentioned it. On balance, it was surprisingly easy, just time and commitment.  I think it’s important to look closely at the reasons why you are unhappy formula feeding. I knew that if I didn’t do something about it, it would ‘stay’ with me for the rest of my life. In fact, I did hypnobirthing for my 2nd baby and breastfeeding was one of the points I took hypnosis for, recounting my experience first time round still reduced me to tears 3 years on. It meant that much to me.”


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Women’s nipples come in many shapes and sizes. But can a woman ever have the 'wrong sort' of nipples for breastfeeding?

Whilst it is true that babies breastfeed rather than "nipple-feed", sometimes the shape of a woman's nipples can make it more difficult for her baby to nurse. In order for him to feed effectively, the baby must be able to grasp the nipple and stretch it forward and upward against the roof of his mouth. If he is unable to do this effectively, perhaps because the mother has flat or inverted nipples, the consequence can be prejudicial to both mom and baby, as this mom discovered the hard way...

You are about to read the story of a new mother whom, unbeknown to her, had severely flattened nipples. It took a catalogue of medical malpractice, a battle with self-centered relatives, and a speedy trip to ER before she discovered the root cause of all her problems.


“Growing up I'd never seen breastfeeding. The first time I saw a human breastfeed I was about 16 years old. When I found I was pregnant, breastfeeding didn't really cross my mind. Not until I googled "what formula is best for my baby?" and was hit with a huge "DUH." 

I thought to myself, “I've been carrying around these breasts for SO long it would just be stupid not to use them when they finally have a function”. So I started reading. I "liked" tons of pages on facebook. I read about booby traps here and there. I watched youtube videos of women nursing. But really in my head I never thought I would have any trouble. I thought Baby + Boob = Job Done!

Prenatal Depression

My pregnancy was difficult. I had hyperemesis. I went 28 weeks without being able to eat anything, even ice. I had an infected PICC line, allergic reactions to medications. I was told that because I did not eat enough, I should expect a small baby. The ultrasound guessed 5lbs.  As a result from all of these complications I was also seriously depressed. 

Skin to Skin Prevented 

Fast forward to the day of my son's birth. After a quick delivery the doctor refused to allow me to hold my son until the cord was cut. I sat and stared at my baby for 15 minutes waiting to hold him. But after the cord was cut she still did not hand him to me. Despite my written request for skin to skin right after birth she handed my newborn to my husband. 

My husband was in awe and I sat quietly and watched them bond. About 5 minutes in I asked to hold him. He had been out my body for 20 minutes and I'd yet to hold him. I finally got my hands on him and put him to the breast. He was rooting but not latching. It wasn’t at all like the breast crawl video I'd watched 100 times before. 


After a few moments of struggling I finally was able to get the first latch. I was ecstatic but my nurse didn’t seem to care. She picked him up off my chest and broke the latch I worked so hard to get. She said my baby would be back in 15 minutes but instead he was gone for over 2 hours. Despite my demands and threats they only brought him back when they were ready. 

When I finally got my newborn back I was bombarded by visitors all wanting to hold and awe over their new grandchild and nephew. He didn’t cry much and I thought that he would cry when he was hungry. I tried nursing but he just did not latch. 

By that night he was screaming. He was so hungry. He hadn't latched but one time all day. My husband ran out and bought me a hand held pump. That night I fed my baby with a medicine cup. I was too afraid to use a bottle. 

The next day, still in the hospital, family came again and rushed each nursing session. I thought he was nursing but he really wasn’t getting anything. He wasn’t latched properly.

Again that night I fed him with a cup. I paged the nurses and asked them for a lactation consultant. But I never saw one. The nurses told me to only feed him on schedule and not to hold him too much. I received so much bad information it was unreal. 

Bottle-Pushing Family

When I was home my guests begged me to give him a bottle. They wanted to feed him. They teased me for being over protective because I refused. They didn’t understand the concept of nipple confusion. There were comments like "does it hurt yet?" and "give him a pacifier so he will lean to suck". 

At night time I was feeding my baby with a syringe. My son was born at 7lbs, and now, 2 days later, he weighed only 6lbs 1oz. By this point, he had high jaundice levels and it wasn’t just about food but also about getting rid of his jaundice. 

Bottle-Pushing Health Professionals

I drove to the hospital every day so they could prick my newborn and check his levels. Every day they pressured me into formula. And every day I said no. They didn't even give light therapy as an option. It was always “you are not feeding him enough, he will probably need formula, and if It's not better tomorrow we will admit him to the nicu.” 

"Nursing with the shield".

It was hard. I second guessed myself, my body, and my milk. I cried as I nursed him then topped him off with a syringe. I had this huge fear that I would fail him. Then finally someone on the internet told me about flat nipples. That was it! That was my problem. I tried a nipple shield at it worked wonders.

Mysterious Pain

Then, just when I thought my breastfeeding troubles were over I woke up in terrible pain. I went to the ER in fear that something was wrong with my gallbladder. Instead the doctor just decided I had a pulmonary embolism. He said I needed an MRI to make sure that wasn’t the case. But I wouldn’t be able to nurse for 2 days. I signed out against medical advice thinking I would pump enough for 2 days and go back. The doctor was very irritated with me for not "just using formula." 


When I got home I laid in bed sweating. I was covered in sweat and freezing cold. I couldn’t get out of bed I felt so bad. I'd never heard of mastitis before. I didn't know what was wrong with me. An online friend ended up telling me that she thought I had mastitis. 

I went back into the hospital ER that night with a high fever and told them exactly what she told me. By then my breast was bright red and hot to the touch. It made sense now! Until I figured out I had flat nipples, my breasts had got over-engorged because my baby was unable to extract the milk efficiently, which led to the mastitis. The ER doctor on duty told me it was a good thing I didn't have the MRI because the best treatment for mastitis is nursing. I went home and my husband brought my little boy to me every hour so I could nurse him. By the end of the weekend I was better. 


If it weren't for online support, I would not be the accomplished breastfeeder I am today. It educated me enough to get through all of the difficulties. With the exception of very few women, breastfeeding is totally possible. I decided to breastfeed and I did everything in my power to breastfeed. I knew that my baby needed breastmilk. Not powder from a can or cows milk, but real live human milk. He has never had a drop of formula, and I’m mighty proud of that. I am also donating my breastmilk to a friend/neighbor who is an adoptive mother. 

I find the action of women who never even try very selfish. I cannot understand how we as a society have become so self-centered that we will give our babies far less than they deserve.”
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“Whole World Deceived... Except the Very Select”.
“Australia Not Down Under”.
“Sun Is a Light 32 Miles Across”.
“The Earth Has No Motion”.
“Science Insults Your Intelligence”.
“World IS Flat, and That's That”.
“The Earth Is Not a Ball; Gravity Does Not Exist".
“Breast is NOT Best”.
“The Breastfeeding Police Are Wrong About Formula”.

What do all these sentences have in common? Two things: They are all genuine newspaper headlines. They are all examples of Denialism:

“Denialism is choosing to deny reality as a way to avoid an uncomfortable truth. It is the refusal to accept an empirically verifiable reality. It has been proposed that the various forms of denialism have the common feature of the rejection of overwhelming evidence and the generation of a controversy through attempts to deny that a consensus exists” (Wikipedia).

In the breastfeeding domain, the people who write such denialist headlines know that science has a persistent habit of going against the relativistic, "whatever feels right for you is therefore right" modern mindset. Consequently such science becomes taboo in order to protect the numbers of people whose feelings may be hurt, and who might feel guilty because of the implications. But unfortunately for these people, hurt feelings and guilt do not disprove the findings. Biology is non-negotiable, and does not bend to relativism.

Hence, formula feeders (normally those with more-militant leanings) pacify their emotions by denouncing the very breastfeeding studies that offend them. Click here to see a good example of such denouncing in action. Typically, the denouncer uses a range of cognitive gymnastics to meet their goal. They employ distortions, half-truths, misrepresentation of the scientific position and expedient shifts of premises and logic. No matter how large scale the research or how reputable the research team, they will fabricate fault with it. Back to the Wikipedia definition of Denialism:

“Individuals or groups who reject propositions on which a scientific or scholarly consensus exists can engage in denialism when they use rhetorical tactics to give the appearance of argument or legitimate debate, when in actuality there is none.”

So for example, formula feeders will argue that the benefits of breastfeeding are exaggerated or non-existent, and therefore by formula feeding they have not put their child at any disadvantage. It is a form of denial, a face-saving technique. As social psychologist Dr Benoit puts it, “if the injury from the act is not as significant as first believed, the damage to the image of the accused should be limited as well”.

Thus, formula feeders fart out the assertion that “the benefits of breastfeeding are small”. I say ‘fart’ because not much, if any, thought is given to the assertion. It’s merely a by-product of ignorance, lack of creativity, and argumentative laziness. For instance, who defines ‘small’? Is it a value judgement rather than a scientific one? A 21% drop in postneonatal mortality doesn’t sound “small” to me.

Joan Wolf is one such denouncer. She has described herself as “taking on the experts” against “the public obsession with health”. When all else fails, she reverts to a very common denouncing strategy – she throws this chicken and egg curveball:

“Breast-feeding, in other words, cannot be distinguished from the decision to breast-feed, which, irrespective of socioeconomic status or education, could represent an orientation toward parenting that is itself likely to have a positive impact on children’s health.”

In other words:

Because breast is best > the best kind of parents are more likely to chose it > therefore, their children achieve the best in life.

Ask yourself: what comes first in the above chain?

Also ask yourself: can ‘parenting style’ account for this:

Click for a larger view.

Finally, ask yourself: In many Asian countries mothers who breastfeed their children tend to have lower educational attainment and come from lower income households, yet despite this, their breastfed children have better psychosocial and cognitive development than their more affluent formula-fed peers (Duazo et al 2010; Daniels and Adair 2005).

Perfect Science is a Perfect Illusion

Denouncers, or ‘Merchants of Doubt’ as some have called them, get excited by the inescapable indeterminacy of figures and statistics. When I discussed this with Dr Jack Newman, the renowned Canadian physician who specializes in breastfeeding support and advocacy, he told me:

“Well, the furious formula feeders don’t know what they are talking about. Admittedly, clinical studies are fraught with possible misinterpretations and poor design (the worst being that people doing studies often don’t know how breastfeeding works), but you don’t have to prove that the normal, physiological is better than the artificial.  That’s turning the world on its head.  Also consider that those studies that show “equality” of feeding methods are just as prone to error as those showing breastfeeding is better.  The furious formula feeders cannot have it both ways.

Prudence requires that we don’t accept the artificial as “equal” just because studies are not perfect.  But boy there are an awful lot of studies out there showing breastfeeding is better.  And for many, as in protection against infectious diseases, protection against overweight and improved cognitive function, as well as others, there are theoretical reasons too that breastfeeding is better.”

The problem is that adequate 'proof' for any possible assertion almost always leaves a space for unreasonable doubt. Absolute certainty is not possible in most spheres of human knowledge. As Stephen Jay Gould, an American paleontologist, evolutionary biologist, and historian of science, put it: "In science, 'fact' can only mean 'confirmed to such a degree that it would be perverse to withhold provisional assent'. I suppose that apples might start to rise tomorrow, but the possibility does not merit equal time in physics classrooms".

It should be obvious that no facts about the risks of formula can ever be proved beyond all doubt whatsoever, and that assertion is equally applicable to all facts about the world. What some formula feeders latch onto however, is that despite the facts of formula's risks having overwhelming evidence, they do not have quite as much as most well-established scientific truths (the existence gravity for instance). This behaviour can be likened to the tobacco industry's assertion that although there is very strong evidence that smoking is a major cause of lung cancer, there is wiggle-room available for them to demand a higher standard of proof and claim science has not met it. As illustration, take a look at this quote direct from Imperial Tobacco legal documents:

"Cigarette smoking has not been scientifically established as a cause of lung cancer. The cause or causes of lung cancer are unknown" (The Observer 2003).

Does that rhetoric sound familiar? That's because it's the same strategy formula feeders use when referring to the risks of formula:

"Formula feeding has not been scientifically established as a cause of SIDS. The cause or causes of SIDS are unknown".

Science is by its nature fallible and to demand infallibility from it is to disobey Aristotle's wise injunction to expect only as much precision as the subject matter allows. Like the connoisseur of good vodka, the truth seeker should not demand 100 per cent proof. We have to live with a small measure of uncertainty. Proof requires us to move only beyond reasonable doubt. It cannot require us to remove all possibility of doubt whatsoever.

Here are some other strategies you may have witnessed formula feeders using to denounce breastfeeding science:

• Conspiracy theories — Dismissing the data by suggesting the scientist or those presenting the data are involved in "a conspiracy to suppress the truth" (more on this bellow).
• Cherry picking — Selecting an anomalous critical paper supporting their idea, or using outdated, flawed, and discredited papers in order to make their opponents look as though they base their ideas on weak research.
• False experts — Enlisting an ‘expert’ in the field, or another field, to lend supporting evidence or credibility (think: Alison Scott-Wright, Clare Byam-Cook, Gina Ford, et al).
• Moving the goalpost — Dismissing evidence presented in response to a specific claim by continually demanding some other (often unfulfillable) piece of evidence.
• Other logical fallacies —for instance, enlisting the help of a straw man, or red herring.

For comedic entertainment, let’s take a closer look at the first strategy on the list: conspiracy theories. Denouncers view scientific studies which extol the superiority of breastfeeding or highlight the risks of formula as the result of a secret plot by exceptionally powerful and cunning conspirators to make formula feeders feel bad. In doing so, the formula feeder places their own idiosyncratic worldview above mainstream science. They present themselves as special, holding secret knowledge unknown or unappreciated by the scientific community. In their opinion, all those who appreciate the risks of formula are simply part of a brainwashed herd, while the formula feeder can congratulate themselves on penetrating the deception. This behaviour is, of course, delusional and self-deceptive, but it serves them well.

Such conspiracism often contains a particular narrative form of scapegoating that frames demonized enemies (The World Health Organisation, government health departments, scientists, lactivists, etc) as part of a vast insidious plot against their ‘truth’, while also valorizing the scapegoater as a fearless hero for sounding the alarm. In this sense, denouncing breastfeeding science is a strategic utility. It identifies elites (“the increased IQ of breastfed babies is simply because they have privileged, middle class parents”), blames them for social harm (“they make us feel guilty with their holier than thou attitude”), and assumes that things will be better once mainstream action can reform (“give formula feeding mothers a break”). Denouncers view themselves as a small group of freedom-fighters who set out to save mothers by doing battle with overly-risk-adverse health organisations. The self-waged war is framed as David vs. Goliath political activism. Yet the irony is that Goliath is not The World Health Organisation nor the government health department, as these establishments are in relative poverty compared to the true Goliath: The billion dollar corporations whom enjoy a grossly unregulated existence thanks to so-called free-market capitalist principles. Tragically, David has got into bed with Goliath.

The Denouncers' Motives

So why do formula feeders fight such a fruitless cause, even at the risk of looking absurd?  I continue to be impressed by how much time and effort they put into attempting to debunk Mother Nature, and I’m not alone. James Akre, member of the Scientific Advisory Committee for La Leche League and project officer for Unicef has a theory as to why formula feeders go to such lengths. He told me:

“In my 30+ years as an observer of this line of "reasoning" I don't recall ever seeing a single example of the case against breastfeeding that was written by a male (which is not to suggests that men are not using other avenues to subvert Mother Nature's market share). This suggests that the writers are doing their best to justify, or at least seriously minimize the risks associated with, routine - as opposed to emergency - artificial feeding. On a personal level, I'm left to conclude that this could well be based on their own experience as children ("I wasn't breastfed, but I turned out all right") or the choices they may have made as mothers.

No amount of scientific or epidemiological evidence will ever satisfy The Denouncers; the primary reason being that this is not an intellectual but essentially an emotional debate for them. In fact, the very word "debate" seems out of place. It's rather a variation on the classic "Don't bother me with the facts; I've already made up my mind!" outlook. But even that sounds too cerebral. We're talking exclusively gut-level stuff here. My feeling after hanging around the topic these past four decades is that based on the collective knowledge that is readily available to anyone with a keyboard and a broadband connection, if you don’t understand the facts today, you're very unlikely to understand them tomorrow.

I suggest referring to this particularly virulent variety of obstinate critic as charter members of the Flat Earth Society. I’m not joking, at least not in terms of the implications of their brand of reality that is being bandied about. We are mammals; this is what we do, or at least what we should be doing. To suggest, imply or otherwise posit that, alone among the 5200 or so mammalian species that have been evolving for the past 200+ million years, we are able to willy-nilly forsake our mammalian imperative with impunity would be risible if it were not so serious in its individual and public health dimensions.”

Like James, breastfeeding advocate ‘The Analytical Armadillo’ IBCLC believes the roots of denouncing lye in self-serving emotional safeguarding:

“It's very difficult for a mother to begin to contemplate negative implications that may relate to her own child - believing it's rubbish is an inherently more comfortable position.”

In other words, denouncing breastfeeding studies helps to justify the denouncer’s use of formula, masking it as an ‘equal alternative’.

Anthropology professor Katherine Dettwyler is another breastfeeding advocate that is dismayed by this strategy. She has observed:

“Of course, the reality is that for many children in the US, bottle-feeding doesn’t represent a ‘miniscule or poorly understood risk’ – it represents a well-established higher risk of many different diseases both in infancy and throughout life, as well as a risk of a lower cognitive functioning. And for some children, their mother’s choice to bottle-feed will result, directly or indirectly, in their death.”

The very notion of formula feeding entailing a degree of risk is unsettling to the formula feeder. It conflicts with their understanding of themselves as good parents. Faced with such disconfirming evidence, they will find a counterfactual way to criticize, distort or dismiss it in order to maintain or even bolster their existing beliefs (psychologists calls this cognitive dissonance). Logic is compromised in an effort to recoup lost esteem, so much so that the absence of evidence is even taken as evidence of formula’s risk-free status. So for instance, because a SIDS death cannot be attributed to formula feeding alone, they maintain that formula feeding has no part to play in SIDS.

Denouncing is not just about personal self-deception; it also acts as self-deception at a group level, insofar as many people believe the same falsehood. If a significant amount of the population can be raised on the same false narrative, for instance the belief that formula is similar to breast milk, this becomes a powerful force to reinforce and reproduce breastfeeding failure on a societal scale. Indeed, false narrative is infectious. One mother’s false narrative is another’s deeply personal group identity (“I’m a fearless formula feeder”). False narratives are often forcefully defended, and they provide a strong underlying system of easily biased logic for interpreting unfortunate social trends. Deception is involved in their construction. That is, people consciously lie to create them, but once created, false narratives breed via self-deception at group level.

Does something smell fishy to you?

Here’s the ultimate crux of it all: the denouncers’ focus on breastfeeding science is a red herring. By channelling attention to denouncing breastfeeding studies, denouncers strategically divert attention from, and obscure, an important reality: the *complete* lack of studies which show formula is as good as. Shouldn’t the burden be upon formula, a food that has been around for a very, very, very short evolutionary period of time, to prove it holds no risks for human babies?

To conclude: Those who denounce breastfeeding science are merely the exhaust fumes of the internet. They are an unfortunate and unavoidable result of our information age. Whilst emotionally satisfying for the denouncer, their pseudoskepticism has reckless consequences for the rest of society. Denouncers hold moral and political responsibility for selfishly promulgating misinformation to advance their own interests while knowingly damaging the work of organisations whose main focus is improving all our health. We need to reframe breastfeeding, not as some sort of ideology to be defended; but rather as a universal act of allegiance to our children and to ourselves.

In the UK there is a postpartum surveillance culture. Throughout their offspring’s early childhood, each mother (it is invariably mothers, fathers fall under the radar) is policed by a team of health professionals who are employed to monitor the adequacy of her parenting. The first year of parenthood is arguably the most scrutinised. An army of midwives and health visitors weigh and measure the child, carrying out various intellectual and physical tests and other ‘risk-assessment measures’. All of this is concealed under the guise of ‘supporting mothers’. However, as you are about to read, far from being supportive, the postpartum surveillance culture is hostile and mistrusting, particularly of breastfeeding. The following story perfectly illustrates the tragedy of this government-sanctioned invasion of privacy.


“In May 2010 my son was born, 3 weeks late due to incompetent staff at my NHS hospital. I informed them several times they had my dates wrong due to when I got my positive pregnancy test.

Disrespectful Birth

The birth was horrific and traumatic and I was treated with huge disrespect. I wasn’t allowed to position myself how I wanted and I wasn’t allowed to remain mobile. I was mistreated by the midwives who seemed to care more about birth figures and getting "it" out of me than my wellbeing and the wellbeing of my son. Because of the induction process and sheer lack of compassion, my son was very nearly killed by them. He was born, after 10 hours of bodged induction, white, freezing cold and with blue lips, blue extremities and was barely breathing. I actually thought, when an uncaring midwife 'plonked' my lifeless, barely breathing, freezing cold baby on my chest, he was dead! He didn't move, he didn't make a sound, he didn't even shiver. 

I asked a midwife if he was dead. She approached me, lifted him off my chest, still face down, listened a short while and said "Yeah, he's fine". No he bloody wasn't! Another midwife took him off me and put him under a heat lamp but she didn't tell me that and I didn't see where she put him. Talk of ICU was mentioned if he didn't 'pink up' within 20 minutes so he was placed back on me and we were covered and left alone.

At this point, my son was desperately trying to feed. I was aiding his latch with techniques I'd learnt with my 1st child who I'd breastfed for 12 months. It seemed to be working because he passed his meconium fairly quickly. For 5 or so hours he fed on and off but I felt something wasn't quite right and requested help. The response I got just angered me. I was already in a rather traumatised state but this nugget from the midwife just toppled me: "You've fed one baby" came the response and she left the room. We never saw that midwife again. My son didn't feed again for another 12 hours.


From then on, we were forgotten about. A cleaner came into to the room to clean it for the next labouring mum and was shocked to see us. We'd already been informed the hospital had no bed for me on the maternity ward and that they needed the labour suit so they were discharging me. I actually begged them not to. I knew something wasn't right and I wanted to stay close to any possible support. "No, we can't do that, we don't have a bed for you, we are over capacity". Why? Why did they induce me, put me through a traumatic birth if they were over their legal numbers? I just couldn't believe it! After being ignored for 9 hours (yes, that is 9 hours) we were finally discharged and sent on our 'merry' way. 

When we got home, all I could do was shake, cry, not eat and not sleep despite being exhausted. I was still trying to feed my boy who was now becoming quite lethargic and sleeping a lot. My instinct took over and I expressed some colostrum (which was bloody hard work) and syringed it to him. It was only a few ml but it was something and I felt I could at least try to sleep.

The First Home Visit

The next day my husband went to pick up our daughter and some food. As soon as he left, as I'd settled down to do a bit of baby-mooning I heard a loud knock at the door. Ignoring my better judgement, I answered the door. It was a community midwife who then launched into interrogation, demanding to know where my baby was. I'd left him in bed whilst I answered the door and it was where I wanted to be, not answering the door. She came in, weighed my son who thankfully hadn't lost any weight since the day before, quizzed me on my feeding and made me feel generally uncomfortable. She was insistent that I took myself to the breastfeeding support group at a children's centre at the other side of the city. I didn't feel like going after the birth I'd had and requested she send a support worker to me which she refused to do. She seemed annoyed at me for not wanting to get in my car, 2 days after giving birth and see a breastfeeding support group - a group I hasten to add, that employed mums who didn't breastfeed for longer than 6 weeks. I couldn't really see how they could help. Perhaps it appeared that the midwife was being supportive but to me it sounded like she wanted me to go so I could hear someone say "Oh you can't breastfeed but it's ok cause bottle feeding is just as good". It was certainly the tone I got from her.


By the point she left I was leaking so decided to feed my baby. There was still a problem with feeding but I didn't know what it was, I couldn't work it out. I wasn’t experiencing pain but he wasn't making the right noises. I expressed some more and syringe fed him again.

The Second Home Visit

My husband returned home and within minutes there was another knock at the door. It was another community midwife. My son had already been weighed and inspected so we didn't need to see this midwife. She wanted to come in but we insisted she left us alone. 

The whole day I was trying to feed my baby, he wasn't feeding properly still and now my husband was getting jittery as to how often I was feeding him. He said things like: "You're feeding him again?" "Does he really need to be fed again?" "I'm a little concerned at how often you are feeding him". I explained to him why but he didn't seem to understand, so I directed him to Kellymom.com to educate himself.

That night, I was restless. My baby was very sleepy, not really making any feeding queues, not producing enough wet nappies and generally not looking very well. I tried using a Supplemental Nursing System but it didn't work. My son would suck the tube but not my nipple. I phoned a breastfeeding helpline to explain this, and following their advice I used a smaller tube. He just did the same thing. We watched YouTube videos on how position the tubes, etc but to no avail. To make matters worse, I was violently allergic to the tape with left huge red blistered marks on my breasts.

The Third Home Visit

The next day the community midwife returned. Our boy had lost weight, not a lot, but enough to prompt the midwife to start pressuring us to give formula. She threatened that if I didn't do what she said, we'd end up in hospital. Basically, she wanted us to use formula so she could go to her next job and not have to worry about helping a mum breastfeed. Naturally, I refused, explained in depth why and asked her to leave. She left, unhappy with our choice and told us someone would be back the following day, the dreaded day 3! Day 3 in the UK is the day when they decide when to send to back into hospital for intervention! 

The Fourth Home Visit

Day 3 came, after a frantic night of trying to feed my boy, I was exhausted, I was emotional and my dreads were confirmed, my boy had lost 14% of his birth weight. I couldn't understand it. He was pretty much attached to me all day and all night for 2 days solid, how can he have lost 14%? The midwife examined me (my nipple was squeezed, with force, which hurt) to see if I had milk (RUDE!) I had plenty! She suggested we go to the medical center and have him weight on freshly calibrated scales. I agreed. What else could I do? 

By the time we'd got there, about an hour later and after what I thought was a decent feed (as he'd produced a good wet nappy) he'd lost another 3oz, according to the freshly calibrated scales! The call was made and we were re-admitted to hospital onto the children's ward. This is where my faith and trust in nurses and doctors dissipated completely. 

Back to Hospital

That evening we were admitted. It was suggested by the doctors that my son was ‘critical’ yet it took them 5 hours to admit us to the ward from triage! I was handed a hospital grade pump by an auxiliary nurse and was told "It's pretty much self explanatory". Was it hellers like! I didn't have a clue what the hell I was doing and because of that, I was getting zero milk out. The milk was there but the pump was too complicated to use without proper instruction. Because I wasn't getting any milk with the pump it was decided by the ignorant doctor that I wasn't producing any milk! I soon put a stop to that stupid assumption. I had had the forethought of bringing my own pump, hey presto, with my manual pump I got 20ml! We gave it to him and he seemed to rally. I continued to use my pump but after that boob busting 20ml I was only getting 10ml. Cue the nurse who bottle fed her son, didn't even bother to breastfeed (from her mouth!), coming out with this corker. "You aren't producing enough milk, he needs 3 ounce every 4 hours, by this stage you would be producing at least 5 ounce" What? Where the hell did she pluck that number! It instantly showed the level of understanding of human lactation, ZERO!!!! The doctors, the nurses and every other sodding person on that ward suddenly knew everything about lactation, when in reality, what they knew was hearsay, old wives tales, advert propaganda and lies. The little ‘information’ they knew they'd got from formula companies. 

By this point, I was pumping, with my pump 10ml every 2 hours. This was enough for my son but it wasn’t enough for the nurses and doctors. Without my consent, written, spoken or otherwise, they fed my son 3 ounce of formula. I explicitly requested they didn't! I threw all the research I could find at them as to why I would rather have donor milk if supplementation was necessary. I showed them that my milk was enough but they just did not listen at all. I have since been told by a trusted breastfeeding activist that them feeding my son formula against my wishes was actually assault. 


I continued to insistent on no bottles when feeding my expressed milk, so a midwife was sent for to show us how to cup feed. I already knew how this worked as I had been doing it at home but due to hospital protocol they had to have a midwife show us. She came, she saw, she left and she was beyond indifferent. I felt low, very, very low. I was being treated like some freak, like some nut-job, like an unstable neurotic woman. The doctors and the nurses treated me with contempt. 

Fortunately, my son gained weight so they sent us home. They didn't fix any feeding problems we had, just sent us home because he'd gained weight. So at home, I expressed a bit and cup fed and tried to feed him myself, which again, I thought was working. I didn't want to express too much because I didn't want to have an over-supply, as by this point, my milk was in with a vengeance!!! However, the boy lost weight again. He was a week old and we were being admitted back to hospital. 

Re-admitted to Hospital

Now everyone was telling me to give up and bottle feed, to just suck it up! How could they say that? Why were they saying that? I had milk and lots of it!!! If I'd have had more sense, I would have created a larger stash at home to call upon when re-admitted!


Back to hospital we went. In came pro-ff nurse (the one that told me I would be producing 5 ounce by 3 days). She had a look on her face of "I told you so" and it made me mad and even more determined. Formula again was suggested and I said, with gritted teeth and anger "Over my dead body". So they wheeled out the hospital grade pump again and left me with it! 

I ended up texting a friend and asking her for help, she lives in Essex, I live in Lincoln, that is a distance of 138 miles! I asked her how on earth this bloody pumped worked. She talked me through it, I wrote it down and then sat and began double pumping. I overflowed the bottle attached to my right breast and filled the bottle attached to my left. I went to find the smug nurse and gave it to her, then walked off! 

Every 2 hours I pumped but by 3am I was exhausted, I was trying to feed my son myself, my pumping seemed to be having the opposite effect to what we wanted and I'd gone from getting a few full bottles to not even breaching the 3 ounce mark. I felt destitute. Maybe they were right, maybe I was having lactation failure. The smug nurse came into my room because she saw my lamp on. I was sat hugging my sleeping boy and weeping. She could see I was at a low point and in a dark place, yet she decided to spew: "Come on now, this is foolish, you just need to give up this stupid quest and just bottle feed him!" There was aggression in her voice, there was condescension and an air of being fed up of this 'silly lactivist'. I put my boy down, I walked up to the nurse and I opened my mouth and began shouting at this woman! It made no odds at this point who she was because what she said was uncalled for! I shouted her out of my room and down the ward. 


The following morning, still feeling very depressed and desperate, a lactation consultant called Emily came to see me. Now I had asked, on being re-re-admitted to see an infant feeding expert/lactation consultant. They sent me the infant feeding coordinator at first, she was an idiot to put it bluntly and again had absolutely no understanding of human lactation; Emily on the other hand was my knight in shining armour. She was very well researched, very well trained and understood everything I was telling her. We established, together through feeding observation, that the problem was not me, not my milk supply, it was my boy. He couldn't coordinate his latch and suck. We decided expressing and cup feeding was the way forward and unlimited access to the breast. She spoke to the doctors and told them to back off and let me find my stride with my son. She noted that the intervention was doing more harm than good and requested I was sent home with daily monitoring. This was agreed. Hurrah! However I was discharged with 6 bottles of formula (why?). 

Once home, I pumped like mad but wasn't getting much from my manual pump. The LC rang me and suggested I hire a double pump. She ordered one to be held for me at the children's centre not too far from where I lived, it's the best £25 I’ve ever spent. 

Irritatingly, the hospital had failed to give me the excess milk I'd pumped whilst in their care so my husband had to return later that day to retrieve it. By this point, my stash at home was dwindling fast so I gave my son some of the formula I'd been given by the hospital. What a huge mistake. He grumbled and griped all night. I was in bits. I hooked myself up to the hospital grade pump and got 3oz both from both sides. It was more than what I was getting from my manual so I was pleased.

Less than 24 hours later I was pumping 8oz from the right, 7oz from the left, no way did he need all this milk so we started bagging and freezing it. When I wasn't pumping, I had him down my top kangaroo style, and to my breast. It seems all cheery now doesn't it? But it wasn't. I was still in a very dark place. I couldn't see an end to endless pumping, sterilizing, and nursing. The lack of sleep was getting to me, and I was ignoring my older child who was in fairness still a baby herself at 19.5 months. Every day I spent hours crying and wasn't eating properly. The daily hospital visits were torture. Finally, they discharged me and I was then put into the care of the local health visiting team. 

The Fifth Home Visit

This is a team I'd encountered problems with during my first child’s infancy. I was very, very reluctant to see them, but they showed up anyway and weighed my son. It wasn't even 24 hours since he'd last been weighed!


My husband had returned to work by this time as his paternity leave was over. Thankfully, my big sister was with me which was really helpful. The HV wanted to see my son feed but I insisted she just weigh him and bog off. Naturally, she wasn't happy but she weighed him and he'd gained. She hadn't been informed by the hospital of how we were feeding him so plotted him down in her notes as ‘fully formula fed’. As I was paying more attention to my baby, my sister spoke up and said "I don't think so luv!" and put her straight. 

Once the health visitor had finally left, I carried on my daily ritual of pumping, cup feeding, sterilizing, and unlimited access to the breast. We had visitors come and go and I would sit pumping in front of them because frankly, it was too much of a ball-ache to move the pump, so yes, I was sat topless, double pumping. 

The Sixth Home Visit

A few days later, the health visitor came back and weighed my son again. He'd gained weight, but the health visitor insisted I show her our feeding method. I wasn’t happy with this and tried to reject, but she was persistent. I felt stressed, I felt uncomfortable, I felt judged! Because I was tense, my son cried and it was just a disaster. I was angry. I wanted this judgemental cow out of my home. She said, "Over the weekend I want you to give him formula." I looked at her and replied "I have a freezer full of milk. I have 8 storage bottles of expressed milk in my fridge, a total of 36oz in my fridge. Why in God's name does he need formula when there is all that milk, MY milk?" She stuttered and spluttered..."Well, if he starts failing, give him formula" and again from me, more angry and annoyed now: "WHY? I have 36 ounces of MY milk, a far superior milk to formula! Why the F* would I give him Sh!t when He has the milk of God's on tap?" She looked at me blank with a shocked expression on her face. I told her to get out of my house and not to return unless she is going to support and encourage this breastfeeding relationship. I grabbed hold of her, baby in my other arm, and threw her out of my door, telling her not to come back ever again and slammed the door. I was livid! How dare she try and sabotage all my hard work? How dare she try and make me feel even more depressed than I already was!! How can these health professionals bash out the slogan 'breast is best' for 9 months during pregnancy and then switch to 'formula is just as good'?! I had spent the first 3 weeks of my son’s life crying for hours on end, crying in the shower with overwhelming despair than no mother should ever have to feel. Why it wasn't this working? Why wasn't my baby latching on and feeding like his sister did with gusto? For this health care ‘professional’ to come to my home and lie about being a breastfeeding supporter! What gave her the right?! 

The Seventh Home Visit

By week 3 of this hell, I was still pumping every 2 hours day and night. I even had avid supporters telling me it was a lost cause, suggesting that I'd done all I could, my baby just wasn't going to latch on and that I needed to switch him to formula. My heart sank, the tears streamed down my face, I sat cradling my little boy to my breast. The midwife and my sister sat entertaining my daughter when finally, after 3 long dark weeks of expressing, of tears and heartache, he latched and fed, taking his first gulp. 


I'd noticed the day before he'd been latching with his tongue to the roof of his mouth (we don't know why) so from then I'd been pressing his tongue down with my little finger on latching, it wasn't successful, or so I thought.

I turned to my sister and I said, "He's latched, he's latched and he's sucking!!! He's latched with that deep latch they're meant to have!!! HE'S LATCHED" I was overjoyed. The midwife was astounded. She had never seen a baby latch on for the first time 3 weeks post partum, mainly because no one had ever gone that far to breastfeed their baby in her midwifery career. My boy latched back on and finished his feed, rewarding us with a big burp and a full nappy. By that evening he refused his first cup feed and from that moment on, Sunday the 7th June 2010, my boy was a fully breastfed baby.


My son is now 3 and still nursing. 

I think it is a real shame that some mothers don't even bother trying to breastfeed. I don't think they realise just what they and their child are missing out on. It's not just about feeding, or bonding, it's the life-long benefits, the essential and vital nutrients that infants are missing out on that they need to thrive at an optimum level. For those mothers that quit early on, I feel sad that they didn't get the support they needed to carry on, that possible problems were ignored by HCP's, that they were possibly bullied into formula feeding without knowing the full facts. I feel angry and sad that HCP's just don't seem to care enough about breastfeeding. Giving babies formula means doctors don't have to address with feeding problems. They use it as a cure-all when it isn't, quite the contrary.

The saying goes "Not everyone wants to breastfeed" Well here's a news flash, not everyone wants to formula feed!”




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I have enormous respect for your knowledge, training and hard-won experience, but I have zero understanding or tolerance for any fence-sitting you may still be engaging in concerning breast milk and breastfeeding. If you have a cultural blind spot or two to overcome, that’s fine; go ahead and do it. After all, your health degree doesn’t make you any less a product of the larger society and culture in which you were born, came of age and were educated. But do you really think you have a valid excuse for not coming down routinely on Mother Nature’s side? If so, I wonder what it might be. It seems to me that the abundant, readily available, and overwhelmingly clear and convincing scientific and epidemiological evidence speaks for itself – and certainly a lot louder than I can.

As a group you are seen as authorities on every aspect of maternal and child care and nutrition; thus you are in a unique position to influence the organization and functioning of health services for mothers before, during and after pregnancy and delivery, which of course is what the successfully implemented Baby-friendly Hospital Initiative is all about. But health professionals who are knowledgeable about breastfeeding and motivated to promote it energetically don’t fall from the sky. Further upstream you and your professional associations and training institutions need to ensure that appropriate teaching curricula and policies are in place so that all members of all related professions are actively prepared to protect, promote and support breastfeeding as they should.

Yet, as a group or individually, you may still not be doing enough of the right things or you may even be actively doing too many of the wrong things. I’m struck by the disquieting tendency in some settings for health professionals to abstain from providing much advice, let alone a considered opinion, on feeding, as if a “whatever you think is best” approach were a satisfactory way to meet the needs of the mothers and babies you are privileged to serve. Is this linked to a misplaced desire not to offend or inflict guilt? (If so, don’t bother telling parents they shouldn’t smoke or that they should protect their children against the main childhood diseases, use an approved car-seat to transport them, and keep medicines and cleaning products out of their reach.) Or is it more an extension of the so-called politically correct or highly litigious society in which some of you find yourselves, where finally no one dares take a stand anymore on much of anything? I don’t know what the answer is or, more likely, what the answers are. But my sense is that it’s time for some plain thinking and plain talking here among health professionals – and for any stragglers to climb quickly down off the child-feeding fence directly on the side of history.

Lastly, as you strive to serve mothers and babies, perhaps you would like to reflect on the following: the possible relevance, for your attitude toward the original default food and feeding system, of what philosopher and social critic Ivan Illich had to say about experts and professionalization:

“The medical establishment has become a major threat to health. The case against expert systems like modern health care is that they can produce a damage which outweighs potential benefits; they obscure the political conditions that render society unhealthy; and they tend to expropriate the power of individuals to heal themselves and to shape their environments.”

And while I have your attention, I’d like to invite you to join me in declaring a moratorium on using the overworked, unhelpful and often misappropriated slogan “breast is best”; or perhaps we could even agree to banish it altogether from our collective vocabulary.

Thank you.

A baby's refusal to breastfeed is an example of oral aversion. Distressing for mother and baby alike, La leche League describe an aversion as "a tendency to avoid a thing or situation and especially a usually pleasurable one because it is or has been associated with a noxious stimulation." In the breastfed baby, this behaviour can range from a mild disruption of normal feeding patterns, to complete refusal of the breast. Often it is caused by manhandling the newborn during those important moments and hours of life when they are trying to learn the art of nursing. This is exactly what happened with Cagney, who found herself mourning more than just the loss of her planned-for home birth. Cagney's breastfeeding relationship was mercilessly whipped from her by the unforgiving hands of a thoughtless lactation consultant and bureaucratic nicu staff. You are about to learn how she recovered her breast milk – and her dignity – whilst curing her daughter's oral aversion, all through the process of relactation.


Home birth disaster

“I had planned for a natural non-medicated labor and birth at a nearby birth center. Everything went well until I started to push.  Salem, my little girl, did not take to that part well at all. After just a couple pushes I was told to get on my back so they could monitor the baby better. Her heart rate was going really low and not recovering well after each contraction. I remember pushing so hard and my husband desperately trying to get me to push just a little more.  Finally they realized it just wasn't going to happen, she was stuck and we needed help.  

Race to hospital

So in a snowstorm, off we went to the hospital at 5 or so in the morning.  The midwives had called for transport, but no one would answer the phone (nice, huh!), so my dad drove us.  Did I mention there was a snowstorm!!  My midwives informed me during the car ride over that this was almost certain to end in a c-section - something that I had not even considered as an option before this (BIG mistake on my part).  I tried to make peace with this fact in the car, but that peace was quickly shattered when I was wheeled in to the hospital only to have the staff argue with my midwife because they want to know who my doctor was.  I thought, for the love of God I don't have a doctor you stupid !@#@, I have a midwife.

Forceps failure
  
Finally they wheeled me into some room where I consented to forceps, trying to avoid the inevitable.  They offered me pain meds and I denied them, still determined to go natural. Forceps with no pain meds was not very fun and as it turns out did not do anything to help the situation. Salem made it to +3 station (whatever that means) but would not come out. They had to push her back inside me in order to do the emergency c-section. They had to knock me out completely since I did not have an epidural already placed, for which I was grateful at the time.

I finally meet my baby

Two hours later I woke up in a recover room and they wheeled a baby in.  Of course I couldn't move or sit up yet, but there was a mirror above my bed and I could see the baby through the mirror.  It was Salem. I had missed everything. No vernix, no delayed cord clamping, no immediate skin to skin, nursing.  All gone.


Once I could move my arms, I held my baby, even though she didn't feel like mine. I held her skin to skin and yelled at the nurse when she tried to cover us both for transfer to my room.  At that point I could have cared less who saw me naked, I didn't want a sheet over my baby!

Why it sucks to birth and breastfeed in hospital

The hospital was noisy. I was placed next to a broken machine that was beeping insanely every 5 minutes.  I was still wacked out on drugs and trying to breastfeed with no luck.  I asked for a lactation consultant several times before one finally arrived. All she did was try to smash Salem into my breast, and barely spoke two words to me.  Not much help.  She gave me a syringe full of sugar water to "encourage the baby to suck" since Salem would latch fine, but would not nurse. Of course the nurses gave her a pacifier right off, even though it said on all our forms not to.  I had a nurse take her for "a quick test" that they said could not be performed in the room and I was physically unable to go with her.  Two hours and many phone calls later she finally returned her. 

NICU

Salem got jaundice and was put in the nicu (she was a very healthy 9 lbs).  My husband helped me get down there to feed her every 3 hours.  Breastfeeding was still not working, mostly because of the stressful environment. I was desperate to get us out.  There was this number on a machine by her bed and I was basically told if she ate x number of ounces of formula they would lower the number.  Once the number was at zero she could leave the nicu.  The whole thing seems so ridiculous to me now, I don't know why I didn't just yell at them all and say give me my @#$! baby!
  
I tried to pump for her, but it's hard to pump colostrum.  The pump at the hospital was broken. It barely had any suction. I tried to get them to switch it out but was told there were no other pumps available.  So my husband purchased a double electric pump. That worked, but I wasn't prepared to pump and didn't really know what I was doing. The colostrum that I did manage to pump was literally the size of a dime.  I remember crying because I couldn't figure out how to get the colostrum from the pump into the approved container to go down to the nicu. I didn't know how long to pump for, how to get a good let down, how often to pump. I called the nurse in to help. I was in tears that I was wasting the precious colostrum I had managed to pump by trying to get it into a container. She did her best to help, but really, colostrum is all but impossible to transfer. 

I probably would have gotten my milk in a lot sooner if I had figured out how to pump more than I was.  I was hormonal and exhausted. Every two to three hours I went down to nicu to try and nurse.  The nurses always made such a fuss about drawing a curtain around me which made everything more awkward.  Who were they hiding me from?  It was just nurses and maybe one or two other parents down there.  It made me feel like I was the only one who had ever nursed in nicu, and they didn't want to see it happen. They also insisted Salem needed formula because ‘I wasn't producing anything’ and she wasn't nursing.  She would latch and just sit there.  

Home on formula

By the time we got out of the hospital, 3 days later, Salem was fully formula fed and I felt horrible.  I tried to nurse her at every feeding before the bottle, but nothing. This went on for two weeks, by which point my breasts had completely dried up.  I hated every second of formula feeding. It was a slap in the face. I wanted so badly to breastfeed. The thought of formula just made me sick.  I hated mixing it.  It did not look like anything you would want to feed to your baby.  I felt defeated, but I was determined after everything else that had went wrong thus far that I was going to breastfeed.  We would make it work, we just had to.

Salvaging my breastfeeding relationship

I finally went to see a helpful lactation consultant. My nipples were a bit flat after birth, and I found out that it could have been from the emergency c-section and the drugs they gave me. The lactation consultant suggested that I try a nipple shield.  I bought one and she helped me use it there in her store.  It worked like a charm. I was so thrilled!  My doula warned me not to use it for too long or we'd never get rid of it.  As it turned out, I didn't need to be worried.  During the second day of use, my daughter knocked it out of my hand, latched and just started nursing like a pro!  


To get my milk back, the lactation consultant put me on a cluster schedule, so I would pump for 20 minutes, wait 15 min and pump again for 20 minutes.  Then go 3 hours and do it again.  She had me pump at least 8 to 10 times a day, plus a few at night.  I also fed on demand as much as Salem would nurse and co-slept so she could nurse through the night. It was gruelling, because I was not very mobile after my c-section.  I was trying to take care of my new baby.  I basically lived on the couch for several weeks with my pump at my side and baby on my lap.

Reducing the formula

It still took around 6-8 weeks before Salem was completely formula-free.  Some of that was due to my husband trying to help and give her bottles while I slept. However mostly it was down to my lack of confidence. I wasn't sure that I was really producing enough and wasn't confident that I could make it without the formula, however much I hated it.  We would go for a couple days without formula, and then Salem would act so hungry and my breasts felt empty (I didn't really realize they are never truly empty), that my fears would get the better of me and I would give in and supplement.

I tried to give Salem as much of the breast milk I pumped as possible, which wasn't much (2-3 ounces a day).  I would nurse her until it seemed like she was hungry and not getting enough from me.  She would cry and I would cave in and give her a bottle.  


My husband was very stressed that he couldn't "help" because he didn't have breasts. It took him a long time to be ok with the fact that she gets a lot of her comfort and food from me.  I think he still struggles with that sometimes.  While he meant all the best, he was a lot of my downfall as far as supplementation went.  On days he worked I would go all day with the breast maybe even multiple days, but when he was home and she got fussy (she wasn't a so-called ‘easy’ baby) he would offer to make a bottle, and my resolve was not always there.  I remember my husband saying things like: "you can't expect to only breastfeed her, she'll always need some formula."  He really was trying to make me feel better about having to supplement, but I think it was that moment when I finally got determined to stop supplementing - "Like hell she will!" One day I just decided Salem wasn't going to starve and I would just keep nursing her and get rid of the formula.  We never looked back.

Formula-free at last!

Salem is now 16 months and going strong. It’s still not always plain sailing. I've had mastitis a couple times, which was very painful: a very hard breast with a hot, shooting pain.  I pretty much tried all the home remedies - warm and cold compress, warm bath, pumping, breastfeeding on hands and knees.  Luckily both times, I was able to get it to go away without antibiotics.  It's not a pleasant experience, but knowing the symptoms and taking action ASAP is the best remedy. We also had a horrible episode of biting due to teething, but worked through that as well. 

I still feel racked with guilt that Salem started her life on formula.  I feel like I should have fought harder in the hospital to keep her off formula.  I wonder what effect it will have on her later in life. Yet, in the same breath, I can say that I'm so proud to have made it to this point. Moms, believe in yourself. There are no measurements with breastfeeding, no way to say "she ate 3 ounces at 2 pm". You just have to trust that your body can do it.  Watch your baby, listen to their swallows, know that you are doing what is best for your baby. We should all have control over our own bodies. I understand that some women just do not want to, and I don't feel it is my job to pass judgement, as much as I would like to sometimes. Those formula feeders who feel like they have missed out on something, or were cheated out of breastfeeding, should relactate.  It's not an easy road, but it would be better to try then live a life of what ifs thinking about what you missed.

Thank you The Alpha Parent for inspiring women like me to continue breastfeeding even when it is not easy.”





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If I were in a position to speak to the world’s governments, this is what I would say:

As guarantors of the welfare of your citizens, you of course will want to move beyond reciting pious breast-is-best slogans and adopting, through your international organizations, still more resolutions, declarations, strategies and plans of action that essentially reiterate what has already been said over and over for the last 30 years. You of course will want to concentrate your energy and resources on implementing, systematically and fully, those remarkably sound and comprehensive consensus instruments that are already on the table (the Global Strategy for Infant and Young Child Feeding, for example). And as you know, the scientific and epidemiological evidence on which these instruments are so firmly based is both unassailable and expanding daily.

The welfare of your citizens is at this price, and the health of your economies depends on it much more than you probably know. Just ask your health economists to take a wide-ranging and comprehensive look at the question. Focusing narrowly for a moment to make the point: We’re not just talking about less diarrhea and respiratory tract infection here; we’re also looking at significantly higher scores for cognitive development. Brains are forever! Be honest now. What do you suppose is the cumulative worth, over a lifetime, of 5 to 10 points on an IQ scale for every child-citizen born within your national territory?

For governments of resource-poor countries in particular, I would like to recall why you began taking action in the 1980s to combat iodine deficiency, which is the world’s single most common cause of mental retardation and brain damage. It happened when you understood the size of this massive public health problem – with 2.2 billion people, or 38% of the world’s population, living in areas of iodine deficiency – and its implications for brain development, and therefore the educability and economic productivity of your citizens. Given the impact of faulty feeding practices on postpartum brain development, how could you possibly hesitate to take all-out action now in support of breastfeeding?

And let’s not forget breastfeeding’s role in lowering significantly the risk of morbidity and mortality among your children; and in protecting the health of your mothers, including by reducing the risk of postpartum hemorrhaging and anemia, increasing the time between pregnancies (thanks to lactational amenorrhea), reducing the overall number of pregnancies (due to a greater number of surviving children) and thereby enhancing the health and wellbeing of mothers and children alike.

By the way – and I’m addressing all governments here – have you given any thought to juxtaposing your national breastfeeding rate at six months, your infant mortality rate and your incarceration rate to see what correlations you might observe? Ironically, you may well find that, of the three datasets, breastfeeding rates at six months are the least easy to come by.

Thanks for listening.

Most women notice a difference between their breasts when it comes to the flow of milk, volume of milk pumped and size. This is normal; no two sides of a person's body are exactly the same. However sometimes, a baby’s preference can lead to nursing from one side only, leaving the neglected breast to dry up and shrink in size.

Many factors can lead to baby making this decision: differences in nipple shape, breast surgery, even differences in the taste of breast milk. And it doesn’t necessarily need to be an issue with mom’s breasts. In the story you are about to read, baby experienced birth trauma which made it excruciately painful for her to nurse on one of her mother’s breasts. Yet, as her story illustrates, it is perfectly feasible to breastfeed from just one breast. Baby will still receive all the nourishment they need, although mom may need to deal with a few inconvenient anomalies, for instance, the illustrious ‘Crooked Chachas’.


“When I got pregnant with my daughter I knew I would be breastfeeding, nothing was going to stop me! I felt that as a mother my body was made to provide this gift to my daughter and not giving her that gift would be selfish and uncaring of me. 

C-section with botched pain relief

At 42 weeks on the day I was schedule to be induced, I went into labor. After 36hrs in the hospital I was only dilated to 7cm. I remember telling the nurse I could feel the baby way up in my ribs, which she dismissed. Also dismissed was the fact that my epidural was not working. I remember the sound of the baby’s heart monitor beeping and the nurses trying to flip me over because they had given me way to much of the epidural and pretty much paralyzed one side of my body while the other felt everything.  Nothing the doctors tried was bringing her heart rate back up. I was rushed in to the operating room for an emergency c-section.  To this day I still get chills talking about this, but I remember screaming in horror as they were cutting me open as I could feel it all. A mask went onto my face and that was that. I woke up in a room all alone, no baby, no family, nothing.

Baby harmed by medical staff

 As if this wasn't traumatising enough, when I finally got to see my baby they had cut her face. I remember her crying she was hungry so I asked the nurse to show me how to breastfeed. I was only 20 and had no clue what I was doing but wanted so very much to breastfeed. The nurse told me she would be back to show me, 20 minutes later my baby is still crying. So I decided I would just try, she latched on like a champ, as if she had been breastfeeding forever. She just knew what to do! 

However, when I switched her to the left side she would scream and scream. I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong. It was really frustrating. I didn’t understand why she could latch on and do so well on the right side and then scream bloody murder every time I tried to feed her on the left side. My mom told the nurses that something must be wrong with my baby, and they just dismissed it. They said they examined her previously and everything checked out fine. 


The next morning I was changing my daughter’s shirt and her right arm was black and blue. I had never seen anything like it in my life. Only now did the medical staff finally concede that something was wrong. They did an xray and the results showed that her humorous was broken, which happens to be the hardest bone in a baby’s body to break.  I asked the doctor what had happened, and she told me they had to get her out, it was a broken arm or a dead baby. I was still determined to breast feed no matter what.

No pacifiers!

One day I returned to my hospital room to find my baby with a pink pacifier in her mouth! I was so mad, I ripped that sucker right out of her mouth and she never had one again. I was pretty much the only person in my community who had a baby that was breastfed. Everyone else used formula. As much as I don’t like formula - I hate pacifiers even more. I think they are for lazy parents who don't want to soothe their crying baby. I’ve always been a very opinionated person and pretty much speak my mind. So all of my family and my friends knew that I would not be formula feeding or using pacifiers. My opinions really pissed off my friends, probably because I said they were lame and lazy for using them.

Finally, it was time to be discharged from the hospital. I was filling out the paper work when a duty nurse saw the state of my baby’s arm and asked me, "What happened, who did this to your baby?" I was so mad, she made me feel like because I was so young I must have snapped and hurt my baby! I lost it and yelled and her.

Deciding to use only one breast

Every time I tried to feed her on the left side she would just scream and scream. I felt so cruel, so I stopped feeding her on that side. I tried to pump to keep the milk supply but I couldn't get much out on that side so I gave up.  Instead I focused on the right breast, the one she preferred. I fed her whenever she wanted, and when she wasn't feeding I pumped. It was a lot easier to get milk out of that side then the left. 


Let me tell you, this sucked! My nipple would crack and bleed and crack and bleed. Then there was the lopsided factor, which made me feel a little insecure. It was a huge visual difference so I started stuffing the right side of my bra when I went out in public! I just folded up some ankle socks and stuck them in there. Worses still, the lopsidedness caused back pain. 

Also, the aftermath of my c-section was proving problematic for breastfeeding. I was literally opened from hip to hip during the operation. I could not believe how long of a cut they had to make to get my daughter out. This made it really hard for me to get up and down. But to me it was all worth it. I knew I was doing what was best for my daughter so that made all the pain and discomfort bearable.  


I fed my daughter on one breast exclusivity for 12 months until I introduced solid foods and then continued another 8 months during bed and nap times, or when she needed some mommy time. I got mastitis and thrush a few times, but there wasn't really any challenges that ever would have made me not want to breastfeed.

I truly believe that breast feeding can be done no matter what! It takes extreme dedication in some cases and that is too much for some mothers. I don't buy the whole 'I can't produce enough milk' bull-crap! My one breast produced enough milk to exclusively feed my daughter for 12 months! You can say I'm lucky I was able to do this, but it has nothing to do with luck. Only determination and the fact I refused to feed my daughter formula!” 



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Oreo is known for hijacking the issue of infant feeding for marketing purposes (remember their breastfeeding ad?) So now that Kate has dispelled the new heir to the British throne, Oreo thought they'd have another bash at the topic. However, this time the assumption is that the new prince will be bottle-fed (a bizarre assumption considering the royal family's track record of breastfeeding).


Featuring a milk bottle and Oreo cookie atop a stately cushion, the timely campaign was tweeted out with the message 'Prepare the royal bottle service!' as soon as the news of the baby's birth broke. The ad is a stark reminder (if we ever needed another one) that our culture is well and truly bottle-centric.

If I were given the opportunity to speak to formula industry representatives, this is what I would say...

It seems to me that your choices are clear, if not particularly palatable:

• You could continue operating under your own special brand of denial, dragging your corporate feet for, at most, the next 15 to 20 years while doing your best to slow the slide in sales of your myriad infant-formula products, which are intended for routine nonemergency use, by seeking to subvert the switch to more and longer breastfeeding (indeed, given the principles traditionally governing profit-making, this is what you’d be expected to do); or you could defy tradition by preparing for changed consumer behavior resulting from increasing society-wide awareness of breastfeeding’s essential nurturing and nutritional role. Or...


• You could demonstrate yet again that you’re really not interested in what breastfeeding proponents have to say, only in working as close as possible to the margins of enforced regulations; that you have no intention of accepting the prospect of less profit without a fight; and that, instead, you will continue pushing for as much profit as possible today and adapt only at the last moment to changes in market conditions tomorrow; or you could reconsider your position in the cold light of that fabled sine qua non of commercial acumen – a hard-nosed assessment based on enlightened self-interest. Or...


• You could willfully stay behind the curve, continuing merrily doing whatever you manage to get away with in terms of what today’s market will bear, only having to scramble, in tomorrow’s, to cope with the inevitable shift in consumer demand resulting from a breastfeeding counterrevolution (due primarily to increased prevalence and duration of breastfeeding, but also including multiplication of non-profit human-milk banks in high-, middle- and low-income countries) to meet mushrooming special-needs demand, for example to feed preterm and low-birth-weight babies and those abandoned or orphaned due to HIV/AIDS); or you could opt to move ahead of the curve by preparing for tomorrow when at least a few of your products will still be needed, albeit in significantly reduced quantity and frequency. 

As there really is no place for routine non-emergency artificial feeding, any attempt to compete with Mother Nature by seeking to diminish her market share in favor of a synthetic substitute is intrinsically unethical.

Breastfeeding and breast milk are ideas whose time has returned. As an industry, you habitually pride yourselves as being at the vanguard in terms of anticipating and responding rapidly to consumer needs. Here’s your chance to prove it by jumping in today on the right side of history. How cool is that?

But I’m not exactly holding my breath. As I said earlier, given the principles traditionally governing profit-making, putting the interests of mothers and children first is not at all what you’d be expected to do spontaneously. Please note: Whatever you decide, you will henceforth no longer be able to say that you were never warned about the consequences if you don’t.

This century belongs to breastfeeding!

Parents and physicians alike are torn on the issue of how, and indeed if, hospital interventions have a detrimental impact upon maternal and child welfare. Medical procedures, for instance, labor inductions, epidurals and circumcisions, as well as the introduction of man-made devices such as nipple shields and bottles of formula, have all been linked to breastfeeding failure. They certainly didn’t help this week’s mom, Rebecca, on her quest for success. Indeed, opposers of home births would be wise to read the following story. Whilst it certainly does not reflect all cases, Rebecca’s story illustrates how the hospital environment and its inhabitants, often work together to undermine a mother’s breastfeeding efforts.


“I'm lucky that in my circle of friends and acquaintances, there are dozens of mothers who have nursed their babies.  When I was pregnant, I'd see my friends nursing their babies, and I assumed that of course I would breastfeed, that's just what people do!  I was breastfed until I self-weaned, my husband and his siblings were all breastfed.  Because I saw it all around me, I assumed that it was simple and easy, and I blissfully ignored any suggestions that I needed to prepare to breastfeed. I also blissfully sailed towards my due date with the assumption that I'd be able to have a natural childbirth without preparation because I had a positive attitude.  Please, have a good laugh on me! I've had two miscarriages that passed naturally, so in my mind I already knew what contractions would feel like, but of course contractions with an 8 and a half pound baby are a little different than a 10 week fetus.  Adding insult to injury, I voluntarily chose to be induced, not having any clue how that would affect the labor process or my baby.  So here's what happened...

Induction followed by epidural

My induction started off with pitocin - very medical, no stripping of membranes, just an IV of pitocin. Within a handful of hours I was on the full dose of pitocin without my body taking the hint to get into labor.  I was having contractions but they weren't productive. Within 12 hours, the nurse broke my water, and then the contractions became far more painful than I was prepared for (obviously, since I hadn't prepared).  I was also shocked at the quantity of amniotic fluid and the continuous gushing, so I didn't want to bounce on the birthing ball or walk around.  I opted for an epidural.  

For the next several hours I laid there, pitocin pumping through me, feeling very little pain, and not progressing.  About 12 hours after they had broken my water, I was only at 6 cm dilated.  I was told that if I didn't progress within a few more hours, I'd need a C-section.  I went for it.  (Side note--- next time I'm pregnant I am absolutely preparing, working with my doctor in advance, taking classes, and having a VBAC.  I could kick myself for how ignorant I was throughout this process)

C-section

During the C-section, because of some scar tissue in my uterus from a previous surgery (that corrected the problem that caused the miscarriages), my placenta was stuck and had to be hacked up to be removed. I lost a lot of blood - apparently I was right on the threshold of receiving a transfusion, but thankfully didn't get one and recovered relatively quickly in that regard.  

Here I was, fresh out of major abdominal surgery, weak from having lost a lot of blood, and for 24 hours I'd been pumped full of pitocin, followed by an epidural and whatever pain control they used for the C-section. Of course my baby therefore had all of these drugs in his system as well.  

Unresponsive nipples, unresponsive baby

I had a friend with me who was in training to be a doula, and she tried to help latch the baby on since I could barely move.  But with all that medication in me, my nipples wouldn't harden at all, and the baby was too zoned to try anyway.  

Circumcision

We planned to have him circumcised at the hospital, which was done the next morning without pain relief. My son’s discomfort added to his lack of motivation to nurse. I was told he'd be extra sleepy as his body responded to the circumcision procedure. It was probably a good 48 hours before he realized he was hungry and could bring himself to eat.  Despite me placing him to the breast every few hours as instructed, he hadn't been interested for two days. 

I gave birth at a pro-breastfeeding hospital, so all the nurses are trained to encourage breastfeeding, and there are lactation consultants on rounds every day.  On my first day following his birth I actually turned the LC away, since my baby wasn't interested in nursing, I figured I didn't need her help!  I can be so dense!

Misinterpreting hunger cues

Throughout my 4 days at the hospital, I discovered that when he did become hungry, it appeared to happen very suddenly. He'd stick his tongue in and out, but I didn't know that was a hunger cue, so we'd be admiring this silly cute face he was making and then wham! - we were into purple face screaming hardcore crying.  By this point, he was so agitated that if I couldn't latch him in a few minutes he'd wear himself out screaming and fall asleep. 

Separation

To aggravate matters, there was a hospital policy which required parents to have the baby in the nursery overnight. Staff would bring the baby back to your room when the baby wakes to eat.  So again, by the time my son was returned to my room during the night, he'd be screaming hungry and unable to nurse.

Nipple shield

We had three more chances with the lactation consultant, and she spent an hour with us each day.  My nipples still wouldn't harden. Combine this with the fact that my nursing breasts are a G cup, and it was hard for my baby’s tiny newborn mouth to open wide enough. So the LC suggested that I started out using a nipple shield, which I promptly did.  

A few of the nurses at the hospital tried to be helpful but weren't - they'd give advice that contradicted the LC, or they'd just reach over and touch my boobs while I was trying to latch the baby, without asking if I wanted that kind of help.

Positioning juggling act

Also because of my C-section we were limited to the football hold.  I felt like I needed four arms to successfully nurse.  In order to get my son to latch, each time, we'd need one hand tweaking my nipples or holding on the shield, one hand bringing his head to my breast, one hand holding my breast (G cups) so it was flat enough for him to get his mouth around it, AND another hand dripping formula or expressed colostrum on his lips/my nipple to help him make the connection between nursing and food.  

Formula supplementation

Without the help of the lactation consultant, in our 4 day hospital stay, my son only successfully nursed once.  Due to ‘excessive’ weight loss, I OK'ed him getting formula twice in the hospital. My son was born at 8 lbs 8 oz, and was 7 lbs 11 oz after three days, but then didn't lose any weight from day 3 to day 4 in the hospital. It doesn't really sound excessive looking back.

Family and friends

I healed so quickly from my C-section that we were told we could leave a day early, but I was reluctant to do so because I felt unable to breastfeed. I felt unprepared and scared and even hopeless. Yet we were told to leave the following day. 

Once we got home, I was at the point of a mental breakdown.  I was utterly exhausted and scared and felt like a failure.  Thank goodness my mom was in town - she had been discouraged from breastfeeding with my oldest brother and gave in to current medical "wisdom" of the day (back in the early 70s), only to become a La Leche League leader later that decade, and fed me expressed breastmilk from a spoon when I wouldn't latch properly, vs giving me formula.  But I wasn't ready to listen to my mom, surprise surprise.  I started texting all of my mom friends with babies, saying how hard the breastfeeding was, and basically I was just waiting for ONE person to tell me I should give up and go with formula. I just wanted one person to tell me that my situation sounded abnormally difficult, but none did (thank you, good friends!!!)  

In fact one mom, who herself had a 6 week old and 3 older kids, called me in response to my text.  She stayed on the phone with me while I sobbed, and told me how hard it was with her first, and how she fixed her attitude on breastfeeding success, and how she basically resolved to stay in bed with the baby all week while other people handled the house and food for her.  After that conversation, my mother insisted I have a drink (like, an alcoholic one, to CHILL THE HECK OUT), and insisted on giving the baby one more formula feeding so I could get enough sleep to recharge my batteries, and we'd start fresh the next day.

Honeymooning with baby

And we did.  I kept the baby in bed with me, and I rested, and I offered him the breast, and told him that was his only option for food.  Those first several days, there was a lot of screaming and difficulty latching, but each day he'd have a few successful feedings, enough that I knew he wouldn't starve. 

Between trying to latch him, and pumping after a failed attempt, I estimated that 12 hours of every 24 were spent on feeding-related activities.  I also developed a shockingly awful rash from the Boppy pillow.  This is actually embarrassing:  the Boppy was a hand me down from a family I know and trust.  It was the ONE hand me down I didn't remove the cover from and wash, I just got lazy.  I realized afterwards, it had been in storage in their attic.  I had been using the boppy while wearing nothing but underwear, and the rash began everywhere the boppy had been touching my skin.  I'd been laying a blanket over it where the baby was touching it, so thankfully he wasn't affected. The rash took a month to go away, and spread all over my stomach, lower back, butt, my entire legs, feet, etc.  So when I wasn't nursing or pumping, I was rubbing ice and creams all over myself, trying not to scratch.  Or, scratching anyway.  The doctor said that because I was recovering from surgery, my immune system was likely unable to fight off what otherwise might have been just a minor issue.

Thank goodness for my mom being in town, helping out.  She'd literally put food in my mouth while I was nursing so I could rest when the baby rested.  My nipples were, of course, really sore as I was adjusting to all this, and nursing was painful.  I assumed that was par for the course.  

Infected nipples

Finally at my 6 weeks postpartum checkup, the doctor said my nipples looked irritated (ya think?!) Turns out they were riddled with thrush and other infections. The doctor gave me a prescription for a topical cream which helped. I began taking probiotics and using the cream, and about a month later I no longer had pain nursing.


Within a few weeks of his birth, my baby was latching consistently without the nipple shield. He is now 11 months old, and we're still breastfeeding.  I originally hoped to manage even for just 6 months.  Then 6 months came and went and I said I'd breastfeed to a year.  Now that we're planning his first birthday party, I can't imagine why I'd stop breastfeeding as long as he's into it!!  

My husband had his doubts about whether we'd succeed at breastfeeding and was worried about the baby getting enough to eat initially. However he wisely kept his mouth shut and only admitted this weeks later when we were well-established. I even managed to donate several gallons of my pumped milk to a mother with an adopted infant, and a mother with twins who couldn't make enough milk.

When I find out that acquaintances are pregnant, in addition to congratulating them, I encourage them to seek out information BEFORE the baby is born, and to take classes on breastfeeding.  I wish when I was pregnant I'd seen as many messages about preparing to breastfeed as I saw formula advertisements.  The idea in society seems to be that feeding your baby should be easy. Nobody talks openly about it being difficult. This is particularly bad in light of the lack of common knowledge that formula is so inferior to breast milk.”


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I like using the ordinary to approach what is commonplace for some but still unfamiliar for others. The purpose is twofold: to show how everyday analogies, images, metaphors, similes and symbols can be used to see breast milk and breastfeeding from a fresh perspective; and to suggest how this approach in turn can help others see breast milk and breastfeeding in ways they would surely never have imagined. I include an occasional wink at the marketplace by using some cherished commercial jargon to describe what Mother Nature is up against, every day, on a very uneven playing field.


Of pleasure and pain 

When I was at most 8 or 9 years old I distinctly recall seeing a woman moving down the street with pronounced difficulty. In retrospect, the word waddle comes to mind; certainly walk would have been an exaggeration. You see, the woman was decked out in the popular attire of the early 1950s that has come and gone in several sartorial swings since. She was wearing that killer combination of a very tight-fitting kick-pleat skirt and super-high spike-heel shoes – the kind that simultaneously tightens the hamstrings; thrusts outward, and conspicuously raises, the buttocks; and bends the waist unnaturally forward. And I remember making two distinct, if interrelated, observations about what I was seeing. The first was fairly explicit: Gee, she looks like she’s really uncomfortable, even in pain. The second was more implicit but no less obvious: I don't understand this picture at all, but I’m sure that one day, when I’m grown up, I will. Where my first observation is concerned, countless podiatrists, rheumatologists, chiropractors and women themselves have long since confirmed my juvenile intuition. As to the second, I'm still awaiting enlightenment.

The perception of pleasure and pain – and sometimes the pleasure of pain – surely ranks high on the short list of ultimate human subjectivities. Pain specifically, whether its anticipation, experience or recollection, is mediated by a number of key variables; these include the sociocultural (group-imposed values and expectations), the chemical (endorphins, medication) and the experiential (learned behavior). And speaking of short lists, “sore nipples” certainly sits up there with “insufficient milk” as among the most common reasons primarily Western women give for ceasing to breastfeed. However, if all the breastfeeding women I know are to be believed, breastfeeding and pain are not synonymous (from an evolutionary standpoint, how could they be?). Since pre-history nipple soreness is just one more thing that more experienced mothers typically assist less experienced mothers in preventing or correcting. But I can’t help but wonder how many women base their decision not to breastfeed at all on their fear of pain. So, maybe I understand a little better now what getting all gussied up in a tight skirt and high-heels means to someone who’s primarily motivated by being dressed to kill at any cost – welcome to the School of Silent Sartorial Suffering – and how important it is for a breastfeeding mother to receive elementary guidance on preventing sore nipples or worse.


Flying civilly 

I took my first commercial flight in 1965. In the hundreds of times I’ve flown since, in addition to the vastly increased number of travelers I’ve seen some important changes in the size and technical enhancement of aircraft. However, thanks to uniform International Civil Aviation Organization rules applied by the world’s governments, at least one aspect of air travel has remained fairly constant – the timing and content of the security briefing flight attendants provide passengers before each and every take-off.

Doubtless you already know the drill. In addition to being requested to fasten your seat belt and not to smoke, you are routinely advised that in case of a loss of oxygen in the cabin, oxygen masks will spill out automatically from an overhead compartment; and should the aircraft be forced down over water a life jacket is located under your seat.

All very reassuring information, or is it? More is probably less, especially for frequent flyers; it’s unlikely that our attention is exactly riveted to messages that are repeated, if not necessarily heard, over and over again – like “breast is best” for example. In any case, I’d like to suggest a different perspective to this security briefing.

I’m reasonably certain that there are at least two key implicit assumptions in this connection that every passenger, if pressed, would readily accept. The first is that the equipment – the mask and the vest as much as the automatic oxygen delivery system – reflects the most up-to-date technology, that it is of the highest quality manufacture, that it is checked regularly by maintenance staff and replaced as needed, and that it will, indeed, work in case of emergency. My second assumption? That we’ll never actually have to use the stuff!

This is in fact an excellent way to regard infant formula. Unquestionably, for the sake of babies who have to be fed on a breast-milk substitute, we need to continue doing everything we can to ensure that formula is the least inadequate that nutritional science can possibly make it. And then we need to ensure that it’s used only in an emergency.


Break glass only in case of emergency

When I worked in an office environment, there were regular fire drills to prepare us for the day that naturally we all hoped would never arrive. At one point I was also asked to serve as floor warden, and this meant that I was responsible for making sure that everyone had left the building – using the stairway of course – during what, fortunately, was never anything more serious than periodic testing of the emergency fire-alarm and evacuation systems. There were several stairways in the building; however, the one at the extreme east end, while permitting movement between floors, led only to a locked door on the ground floor. The good news was that just to the left of this locked door was a small bright-red metal box. The cover was made of glass so it was easy to see that behind hung a key, which was readily accessible thanks to a little steel hammer mounted to one side – for use only in case of emergency of course. Infant formula also belongs behind glass, for use only in case of emergency by babies who have to be fed on a breast-milk substitute.


The sky’s the limit 
Think for a moment of breast milk as if it were the tallest, most aesthetically pleasing and architecturally most accomplished building the world has ever known. No one, least of all infant formula manufacturers, would dispute this grandiose image of superiority. On the contrary, formula manufacturers have a stake in perpetuating the public perception that breast milk is unquestionably the best for babies – and that formula is right behind.

Now, even as you mouth the mantra “breast is best”, think of infant formula the way manufacturers continually invite you to do – as another building which, while not quite so imposing as Mother Nature’s Own, is nevertheless relatively tall, rather aesthetically pleasing, and reasonably architecturally accomplished. No, it’s not.

In fact, there’s only one building on the baby-feeding block. By definition everything else is, both literally and figuratively, inferior to breast milk and thus no more than a mere basement. And while all infant formulas are breast-milk substitutes, not every breast-milk substitute is an infant formula. Thus, from a nutritional hierarchical (lowerarchical?) standpoint, we can classify formula as the least-bad alternative to breast milk and therefore basement 1, even as we might qualify, say, sweetened condensed milk as subbasement 9 and rice-water as subbasement 17 (you’re invited to fill in the remaining subterranean floors on your own).

If we were to decline to provide our children with the nutritional equivalent of a plush suite in a five-star hotel by feeding them artificially, we would do well not to kid ourselves into believing that, by giving formula, we’re somehow at least replacing the suite with adequate three- or four-star accommodation. In fact, our children still end up eating in the basement.


Holding hands with history 

Breastfeeding permits us to hold hands simultaneously with yesterday and tomorrow, thereby allowing a little bit of history to pass directly through us today. When a mother who, herself, has been breastfed breastfeeds her child, she at once completes and forges historical links of great consequence. This includes providing a basic blueprint, which is continually responding to the evolving microbial environment, of the very same antibodies that have been in the breast milk of unbroken generations of her female ancestral line even as she passes on this intergenerational potential to any daughters she may bear and nourish.


Row, row your fashion boat 
What’s your favorite sartorial fantasy? As a male, mine is to be able to walk into Davies & Son, reputed to be the oldest independent tailor (established 1803) on London’s storied Savile Row, and order a three-piece bespoke suit and camelhair overcoat out of the finest cloth and interlining. Perhaps yours extends to the high-fashion houses in Paris, for example Chanel, Dior and Lanvin. In either case, unless we win the lottery or Aunt Edith surprises us with a hefty bequest, my guess is that we’ll both go on fantasizing while making do with the usual off-the-rack duds. Fortunately, it’s not like that with breast milk. We can easily afford to provide our children with the finest in tailor-made nourishment, and this for a fraction of the price of even vulgar mass-produced synthetic nutritional frippery.


Just do your best, Dear 

As a child, I was always assured that as long as I did my best in school, all would be well. I didn’t have to be first in class. I didn’t have to make the honor roll. Theoretically at least, I didn’t even have to pass the school year. As long as I did my best, my teachers, and, most of all, my parents, would be happy. In time, of course, especially after I became a parent myself, I understood the complexity of this disarmingly simple message. I was of course being prepared for life in the real world and this was meant to cushion the shock of what I would find there. After all, not everyone could attend an elite university (maybe a community college would have to do), step immediately into a high-paying job (Dad wasn’t that well connected), drive a flashy new luxury car (an ordinary stripped-down used model might be all I could afford), or even be first in line (only one water fountain per floor and more than 40 students per class in my creaky old primary school provided us with an early practical lesson in our thirst for social justice). Fortunately, it’s not like that with breast milk. It’s true, some parents deliberately opt to provide their children with nutritional mediocrity; but rich or poor, top-of-the-line elite nutrition is accessible to all.


Kinky accoutrements 

Imagine for a moment the absurdly successful transformation of the emergency-medical use of an oxygen mask into an everyday must-have fashion accessory. Wouldn’t everybody, like, just so want to have one? Sure, everyone knows that ambient air is best, but an ambient-air substitute is so cool! And besides, have you seen those adorable unisex plaid- and pastel-motif masks with adjustable headbands and matching canister-carrying back- and fanny-packs – your choice! – that have arrived in the stores just in time for spring?!

In effect, this is what has happened with infant formula. Having started out as a life-saving emergency nutrition intervention, it has migrated from the medicine cabinet to the kitchen pantry. Formula now ranks in the popular mind as just another processed food available at the supermarket. Paradoxically, one of formula’s most important comparative advantages in the marketplace is the widespread perception that it’s a very close second-best source of nutrition.

The idealized view of infant formula that manufacturers are so adept at portraying – and many ordinary people, health professionals and politicians alike are so disposed to soaking up – translates into a nifty public-relations coup. Moreover, it cleverly avoids any sense of formula’s being understood for what it really is – the least-bad nutritional alternative to breast milk, whether from a child’s own mother, a healthy wet-nurse or a human-milk bank.

In fact, formula manufacturers and their fellow-traveler customers, health professionals and politicians have managed to instill and sustain something which is far more valuable where eating into Mother Nature’s market share is concerned – the curious conviction that, while breast is best, infant formula is somehow good enough.


Before you buy shoes, measure your feet (African proverb)

A measurement is only as accurate as the means used to calculate it. The US National Aeronautics and Space Administration contributed a spectacular example of this truism in 1999 when its Mars Climate Orbiter and Mars Polar Lander were destroyed, apparently due to a simple mathematical error. The problem? After investigating, red-faced officials announced preliminary findings. In a critical piece of ground-based navigation software one development team had used Imperial units, i.e. inches, feet and pounds, while another had used metric units. Since the software hadn’t been told to do any conversions, it appeared that the Orbiter got its trajectory wrong and crashed into the Martian surface. Meanwhile, the Mars Polar Lander reached its target at the beginning of December 1999. After 11 months of traveling some 35 million miles (more than 56 million kilometers) in space, the $165 million craft was a mere 130 feet (40 meters) from landing when disaster struck, or rather both the Lander and its piggybacking Deep Space-2 probes were likewise destroyed when they struck the surface.

In one sense, we’ve been routinely “crash-landing” our babies since the late 1970s by recommending for universal use a growth reference based on a single-community sample of predominantly formula-fed children. The pattern of growth of formula-fed children deviates substantially from that of breastfed children, who grow more rapidly in the first two months and less rapidly, particularly in terms of weight, from three to twelve months. Fortunately, this is changing with the introduction in April 2006 of the new World Health Organization standards for child growth and motor development. They’re based on an international sample of nearly 8500 healthy breastfed children from Brazil, Ghana, India, Norway, Oman and the USA, thereby ensuring ethnic or genetic variability in addition to cultural variation in how children are nurtured. Moreover, the new growth curves provide a single international standard that represents the best description of physiological growth for all children from birth to five years of age while they establish the breastfed baby as the normative model for growth and development.


A well-balanced exercise 

Breastfeeding is like riding a bicycle built for two. Not only do both front and back riders need to pedal together to permit careful and efficient forward locomotion; they also need to know how to start and stop safely, and of course how to keep their balance in between. Fortunately, when I was a kid Dad was there to coach and coax me as I learned to ride my very own two-wheeler for the first time. As a result, not only did I have fewer spills, scrapes and scratches than if I’d been on my own, but I also learned the basics of how to guide my own children and grandchildren in this regard many years later. Furthermore, I’m sure that they, too, are now well positioned to pass on this elementary skill information to future generations.

To this day I’m surprised when I meet an adult who admits to having never learned how to ride a bike as a child. How can that be, I wonder. Doesn’t everyone know?!


Did the earth move for you, too? 

Yes, this is a sex-based analogy, and yes, I know The Alpha Parent has already compared sex to breastfeeding before (see here); but I have a fresh slant.

Notwithstanding conventional carnal canons framed in Hollywood storytelling, Harlequin romance novels and bodice-ripper fiction, which of the following options best describes the first time you had sex with a partner?

• Exquisite! The earth moved magically for both of us; we were instantly attuned to meeting each other’s every need; and we were totally fulfilled by the experience! 
• It was okay but we quickly realized that we still had a lot to learn. So, we promptly resolved to do two things: educate ourselves – and keep doing it until we got it right! 
• Frankly disappointing. I remember thinking: Is this all there is?! Too big an investment for too small a gain, really. I might try it again one day, but there’s obviously no hurry. 
• I found the whole experience disgusting and degrading! I decided, then and there, that flying solo was the way for me. Today, I achieve my pleasure by artificial means only. 

Perhaps we need a reference book on the subject of ignorance, including a chapter especially devoted to the generic implications of not knowing what we don’t know. What I have in mind is reflected in the all-purpose lament: “I didn't think it was going to be this difficult!” – whether “it” refers to riding a bike, having sex … or breastfeeding.

Is it the flawed perception that breastfeeding is so utterly intuitive that leads many observers to assume a no-instructions-required attitude in this regard, and then to be surprised that it’s “so difficult”? This remarkably common premise – and sure-fire recipe for disappointment and failure – is especially ironic if you consider how lacking in positive breastfeeding role models so much of popular culture is today.

We may in fact be more aware of the challenge of learning to ride a bike or having sex – and more confident in our ability to do both well – than we are of breastfeeding. All three are just as surely natural acts as they are learned behaviors; and even if each is not especially difficult, we still need to know the basics and apply ourselves – until we get it right.


Honor thy mother 

Mother Nature doesn’t have it all that easy what with so many competitors trying to grab a piece of the child-feeding action. And not only that, as I look around I notice that she’s often treated with shocking disrespect: like an old cow by some, like a dumb ass (the kind that’s gray, has long ears and eats grass) by others, and like an old goat by still others. But as far as I’m concerned she’s more like a thoroughbred bay filly – swift, sleek and sure – and forever a winner. That’s why, whenever I step up to the betting window in the Life Long Sweepstakes Office, I always put my money on Mother Nature.


The Old Man and the bamboo plant 

There once was an Old Man who, after a long life of strenuous labor, lived his later years quietly tending, with obvious joy and devotion, the small garden attached to his modest house. The neighbors daily observed him cultivating, fertilizing, primping, pruning, shaping and watering his many bushes, ivies, plants, shoots, shrubs and trees of every type and description. But of all the garden greenery so lovingly tended, the Old Man paid particular attention to an unusual dwarf-like bamboo plant located in the farthest corner. Daily, he would water it, carefully cultivate and weed the soil around it, and from time to time add a bit of natural fertilizer – all to no visible avail. The neighbors were quick to note that despite his many ministrations it was obvious that the bamboo plant was going nowhere.

Indeed, during the first year there was no change in the plant’s physical aspect or disposition; nor was there any alteration well into the second or third years either. This obvious fact gave rise to speculation among some of the Old Man’s less-kind neighbors; perhaps it wasn’t a real plant after all but only an ersatz model, albeit a very well-executed one.

Gradually, some neighbors even began to think that the Old Man was having them on, or perhaps that he had “lost it” with age. The least respectful ridiculed him openly, though this had no impact on his continuing devotion to his favorite plant.

On into the fourth year there was still no visible change, and the neighbors knew, of course, that there never would be. Clearly, the Old Man needed his little joke and most of them considered this a small price to pay to avoid dishonoring a village elder.

Then, suddenly, at the beginning of the fifth year, the bamboo plant began to grow. At first it grew mainly outward, spreading its many luscious leaves in all directions. Very soon, though, it started to shoot upward, too, until it was as tall as the Old Man himself, and then higher still, higher than all the other plants and trees in the entire garden.

Afterward, neighbors saw the Old Man frequently sitting for long periods in the opposite corner, quietly contemplating this marvel of Nature, this mute but verdant testimony to his years of steadfastness.

Now then, are we to assume that the bamboo plant did all its growing during the fifth year only? Or were those earlier years of patient, silent devotion of singular importance as well?

Keeping on keeping on can be a challenge in any human activity – including breastfeeding promotion – especially when we meet with widespread skepticism and fail to observe any apparent change despite our best efforts. We can all use a little encouragement, a gentle reminder that change is often invisible, until one day…