So recently I read this article about a woman whose breastmilk healed her baby that was supposed to have mental deficits due to lack of oxygen to the brain, and as I read great stories like this about the power of breastmilk I’m always kinda like, “wow. That’s so cool that I can do this kinda superhero stuff with my body.” Go me, right? But then on the tail-end of reading a pro-breastfeeding post I’ll always come upon the opposite. Which is what happened on this day. I gasped at the headline photo of this emancipated baby and a tag line of something like, “I starved my kid on breastmilk.”
I’ll start by saying that I’m an advocate of breastfeeding. I think it’s great, and I’ve exclusively breastfed all three of my daughters. Other than mild bumps in the road like engorgement, blistered nipples, clogged ducts, and colic I never really had a hard time with breastfeeding. My supply with my first was so extensive that I realized milk donation should be something I looked into. Point is, I love breastfeeding. I love it for my children.
So here I go seeing this article detailing how horrible the experience of breastfeeding was for this woman, and I took note that the website address that carried it was even dedicated to the subject of how formula feeding was just as good. I realized the site had been shared by fellow moms who adamantly wanted to agree that breastfeeding wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and new slogans of “fed is best” were crowding in on the old, reliable “breast is best.” Do you know how that made me feel?!
Sad.
I felt sad that fellow moms felt like they had to explain why they chose not to breastfeed, like it was anyone’s concern other than their own. It made me sad that they must feel, or at one point had felt, less for not having breastfed their infant. I wondered, “have I ever made anyone feel that way?!” I certainly hoped not because when it came down to it I didn’t care.
I don’t care how anyone decides to nourish their baby. I mean, I care about them and their child, but it’s not my concern how they choose to parent. And I hate we live in a society where we think others opinions matter one bit.
Cause here’s the thing. I may produce milk like a jersey cow, but when they start eating solids there’s no way I have the time or initiative to make my own baby food. Not gonna happen. I may have never supplemented with formula even one single feeding, but I had that one kid who ate macaroni and cheese every meal for a year straight. So there’s that. And even though I made it nursing without a hitch past the 6 weeks’ mark, then zoomed past 6 months, and even traipsed beyond the coveted one year mark of exclusive breastfeeding, that doesn’t change the fact that when I glanced at my slumbering six year old this morning I realized she had slept in the same clothes she’d worn for the past two days. Yeah. Sometimes mothering goes beyond breast is best or even fed is best. It becomes mom’s sanity. Mom’s sanity is best. However that may come. I figure if you’re a mom and can make it to the end of the day with everyone alive, loved, and happy, then we’re all kinda doing superhero stuff with our body.
We exist in a social media world where we have the benefit of breastfeeding groups where mommas can find camaraderie in their pursuit of being a milky mom, and I think that’s great. But here’s where it’s not great. It’s not great when instead of using mom groups for support we use them as a yardstick, and we measure our success based on what others are doing. We read all the articles shared on why this or that is the absolute best way in the opinion of so-and-so, and we see how “easy” it seems for others, not realizing there’s always the other side to every coin. So where one blogging mom might be a breastfeeding whiz, she can’t seem to get her kids bathed before bed, and maybe sometimes they fall asleep playing an iPad. Yeah, probably they do.
But that’s cool. Whatever. I’m gonna homeschool, and you’re gonna public school, and that other mom is gonna private school. Yet we’re all ensuring our children are educated. And fed. And loved. And bathed. Pretty much. Most of the time. I think you get my point.
We shouldn’t care how other moms do their mothering, but most importantly we shouldn’t worry if anyone cares how we do our own mom gig. My opinion only matters for me, and vice versa. I don’t expect you to explain to me why you decided to forgo a breastfeeding relationship with your baby if you’ll in turn not expect me to explain all the McDonald’s trash on the floorboard of my van.