Most mothers bring their bundle of joy into the world with the expectation of being able to breastfeed their infant and indeed, many succeed after delivery. Approximately 76.5% of women in the United States successfully breastfeed their child at birth. However, some are unable to continue as time goes by. The rate drops to 49% at 6 months. According to a survey by the Department of Health and Human Services, only 16.4% of new mothers are exclusively breastfeeding at 6 months.
In honor of the 2013 World Breastfeeding Week, download a complimentary copy of “Crazy For Milk” here and take a peek at the non-textbook realities of motherhood.
Could the example set by the Duchess of Cambridge with the Royal Baby help reduce the stigma of breastfeeding and lessen the number of mothers who give up nursing shortly after leaving the hospital? How important is it for public figures to set the tone?
The Duchess of Cambridge is reportedly successfully breastfeeding newborn Prince George after a shaky start, following recent traditions set by Princess Diana and the Queen Mother. The efforts of public figures in setting the example are an ongoing source of inspiration for new mothers to persevere with their own efforts of nursing, especially when for centuries in the past, royal babies were traditionally handed over to wet nurses soon after birth.
The American Academy of Pediatrics (AAP) recommends that breastfeeding continue for at least 12 months, and thereafter for as long as mother and baby desire. But the latest data showed only 47.2% of moms were still nursing their babies at 6 months and only 25.5% at 12 months.
Despite the numerous benefits, many new mothers give up nursing due to the stigma of breastfeeding – their fear of being able to nurse their babies discreetly in public; their reluctance to deal with society’s perception that breastfeeding in public is inappropriate despite the many laws passed in the United States that protect a woman’s right to breastfeed in any place, public or private, as long as she’s authorised to be there; or the lack of support from their employer to enable them to express their milk while at work.
So, how can every mom be expected to continue nursing her child when she is confronted with this stigma at every turn? …Read more
It is AWESOME when a total stranger supports a mother’s efforts to breastfeed in public! “A breastfeeding mother at a pizza restaurant got the surprise of her life when she received a free pizza and a kind note on her receipt from a waitress.” ~ Read the article by Yahoo Shine entitled “Breastfeeding Note From Pizza Waitress Pays It Forward” at http://ca.shine.yahoo.com/blogs/parenting/breastfeeding-note-from-pizza-waitress-pays-it-forward-164047499.html
It was past midnight and I had finished putting away all the dishes. Everyone else was fast asleep and I was exhausted. Growing up, when I was a little girl playing with dolls and toy cooking sets, it was all fun and games. Later as a young adult, it was jokes and banter over the horror stories. It never struck me that as a mother, a wife, I would be this tired and this lost.
It was now coming to the end of the fourth month since Emma was born. Every morning, I dragged myself out of bed before the sun rose to breastfeed the sleepy little Emma and express as much milk as I could before work. It was stressful, trying to get my breast pump sterilized, all the apparatus packed so I could express at work and Emma changed before I dropped her at the daycare. I was going insane, rushing every morning in order to make it to work before eight thirty.
At work, I struggled as my body wreaked havoc on me. Late morning meetings that dragged on to lunch time were the worst because by that time, I was literally dying to express and having massive let downs in my nursing pads. It became nearly impossible to concentrate on whatever was being discussed during those times.
Just last week, I had not positioned my nursing pad properly and the milk had soaked through to my shirt. It was bad enough having my now enhanced curves and cleavage scanned by the older, more lecherous males in the office whilst trying to pretend I didn’t notice or care. But that was the worse day — those same men were watching the stain spread on my white shirt as I tried to pretend that there was nothing wrong. Days like that, I really regretted waking up in the morning and going to work.
To make matters worse, my milk supply was dwindling whilst Emma’s demand for milk was increasing. I wasn’t able to express as much at work anymore. I used to be able to express at least eighteen ounces a day my first week back at work, but now after ten weeks, that had dropped by one-third and I was perpetually worried Emma wouldn’t have enough breast milk to see her through until her first birthday. I really wanted to try and fully breastfeed Emma for the first year of her life.
I was fully engorged in the evenings by the time I picked Emma up from daycare — feeding her was a relief although I had to hold off feeding her when I got home until my breast pump was sterilized. I needed to catch any excess milk that dripped out uncontrollably from the other side while she was feeding. Every drop had become extra precious to me and I couldn’t afford to lose a single one now.
I had heard all the stories, the old wives’ tales, the dos and the don’ts.
I had read books and researched materials on the Internet.
I made sure I bought everything I could think of beforehand — the baby clothes, the baby bottles, the diapers, the diaper rash medication, the lotions, the soaps and the baby cot.
I planned upfront all the housework that needed to be done and did as much as I could before I entered the labour room so there would be less to do when I got home with her.
I had even meditated and got myself into a Zen-like-state so that I would be as ready as I could be to bring her into this world.
I wanted to be ready.
I had thought I was ready.
I really believed I was ready.
That is, until the milk came.
Having just delivered a baby, faced with engorgement as her breasts overflow with milk, where does a woman turn to for help? The one closest to her, the one whom she believes can save her, the one whom she puts all her faith into finding a solution for her .. her hero, her saviour, her husband.
Breastfeeding is never easy for a new mother and when her body becomes a stranger to her in the middle of the night, behaving in ways unfamiliar to her, giving her pain beyond anything she ever imagined before, she turns to the love of her life for help.
But often … can love be enough when the solution is not what she expects? Desperate times call for desperate measures … but is she desperate enough? She wants to be saved, but when his actions take her beyond her comfort zone, pushing her into the realm of the unknown … is it enough for the ends to justify the means?
As a man, he wants to be her hero, her knight in shinning armour ~ the one who keeps her safe … but how can he protect her from herself? How can he stop her from turning on him when the solution he presents to her is something she isn’t ready to accept?
And yet despite everything, she still wants her hero to save her.
Even now, the words were ringing in my mind, “Suck it up, Megan. Stop being such a whinny baby. Tiredness and exhaustion are part of motherhood. Get used to it. This is only the beginning. We have all gone through it before and survived.” – Crazy for Milk
It is hard to imagine a parent, an older sibling, the in-laws or even a friend saying those things when you’re just struggling to cope and make sense of everything. I know many of the mothers I have spoken to shared the same experience.
Recently, a friend asked whether anyone had actually said those words to me. My answer was a resounding YES! It happened when I had reached out for help and received a lecture in return ~ one of my inspirations for writing that scene between Megan and her own “evil witches”.
Kathryn Michaels 