Breastfeeding: A Mothers Choice, or her Sentence?

All new mothers are advised to breastfeed. We're told that there are so many benefits to breastfeeding, and that it is the best thing we can do for our child.

We're told it's natural, it has just the right nutrients for your baby, it promotes better bonding between mother and child, it provides antioxidants to keep them from getting sick, it's environmentally friendly. It's a magic potion of rainbows and unicorns that can rid the world of evil whilst simultaneously doing your taxes.

The medical profession, the media, family, and strangers in the street, all eulogize the benefits of breastfeeding.

This makes me want to choke them a little.

The doctors, nurses and midwives are especially frustrating to me - they should be providing new mothers with information and support regarding their preferred method of feeding their child, not ignoring bottle feeding entirely, and using guilt and pressure to 'encourage' breastfeeding.

It is completely ridiculous to think that if you pretend bottle feeding doesn’t exit, then all mothers will breastfeed.

The number of mothers who start breastfeeding but then go on to formula is very high, particularly in the first week. It is vital that they get basic information on how to prepare it properly, and the importance of sterilizing.

Promoting breastfeeding as being the best option if you are able and willing is fine, but villanizing mothers who bottle feed is not.

You are looked upon as selfish if you choose to bottle feed. You are given sidelong glances, and the occasional snarky comment if you dare to be seen in public with a bottle. Breastfeeding fanatics imply – when they don’t just say it outright – that you are either too callous or ignorant to do the 'right' thing by your child – you obviously don’t care about it's well being if you're feeding it formula! (gasp). You may as well be dressing it in plastic bags and letting it play on the road with rabid dogs.

Contrary to popular belief, baby formula is not in fact poison.

Today's baby milk formula is the closest it has ever been to breast milk. It also comes fortified with many nutrients that are low or absent in many mother's milk. Formula milk is fortified with iron and vitamin D and contains two essential fatty acids found in breastmilk, DHA and ARA. It is a nutritionally complete food for babies.

During my research for this post, I asked the people around me what they believed the benefits of breast feeding to be, and if they chose to do it, Why? Interestingly, convenience and the fact that it was free was high up on the list. But there were four other benefits that were present in most peoples minds, so I wanted to look further into them. This is what I found:

#1: Breastfeeding promotes bonding.
Many people who did not enjoy breastfeeding speak of only bonding with their child once they stopped. Many people who do enjoy breastfeeding speak of it as being the most bonding experience of their lives. In short, people are different and therefore will not always find the same activities bonding. Breastfeeding does help some woman form an attachment with their children, but if you are unable or unwilling, it can be very detrimental to bonding. If this is the case, the good news is that you do not need your baby to be physically attached to your body in order to bond with them. Spend time with them. Hold them. Play with them. Love them. It works really well.

#2: Breastfeeding passes antibodies to the baby.
Most mammals are born without any antibodies (or only the tiniest amounts) circulating in their blood. This leaves them defenseless at birth against viruses, bacteria and other pathogens. If a kitten is deprived of it's mothers colostrum after birth, it will probably get sick and die. Fortunately, the antibody molecules in colostrum are easily able to pass through the bowel walls of these baby mammals and protect them.

Human babies however, are able to absorb antibodies into their blood before birth via the placenta. Unlike other mammals (except monkeys) human babies are born with all the maternal antibodies that they will ever have.

Colostrum and breast milk are full of antibodies, but babies are never able to absorb them into the bloodstream except maybe in tiny amounts. The antibodies in breast milk do protect against infection, but they only work locally - inside the baby's gastrointestinal tract.

#3: Breastfeeding your child increases it's IQ.
If we are working on statistics (Which most of these studies do) it is worth noting that mothers who elect to breastfeed tend to be more intelligent themselves. Intelligence is genetic.
Experts originally believed that an acid called DHA which is found in breast milk, was responsible for the slight increase of IQ in breastfed children. But when they adjusted the results to take into account factors such as the mother’s own IQ and level of education, the difference between the intelligence of breastfed and formula fed babies disappeared.
There is also no statistical difference between the intelligence of siblings when one was breastfed and one wasn't.

#4: Breastfeeding reduces the risk of SIDS.
Yes it does, but that has nothing to do with anything in the breast milk. More likely it has to do with the frequency of which the child wakes to feed, or the fact that statistically, more mothers from higher income families choose to breastfeed and they can afford to buy new bedding for their children. Protective covers for bedding eliminate the risk of SIDS. Buy one today: http://www.babymattresscovers.com/

There are so many studies and reports out there showing the vast superiority of breastfeeding, but most of them share one glaring fault: Researchers can not ethically tell a woman how to feed her child, so they are forced to simply compare groups of babies being breast fed, against groups that are not.

Statistically we know that many mothers who choose to breastfeed are relatively intelligent, are more educated, come from higher income families, tend to provide more stimulating home environments, are more likely to use attachment parenting, and are slightly older than bottle feeding mothers. It is almost impossible to distinguish which benefits come from breastfeeding and which come from genetics, environment and parenting choices by simply observing these mothers.

Thousands of these observational studies have been published claiming the undeniable benefits of breastfeeding, but most of these claims have never been proven in the lab.
Connections between breastfeeding and obesity, allergies, preventing leukemia, cognitive development, heart disease, diabetes, (the list goes on...) are brandished about as if they are fact, but the science does not support these claims.
The studies are just comparing one group against another without taking any other relevant factors into account.

Does this mean that formula is better than breast milk? Not at all, there are many benefits to breastfeeding, this is only intended to make people think, and not judge others based on something that they've been spoon-fed.
Breastfeeding is a natural function and if you are able and willing, a really good choice. However, circumstances exist where bottle feeding is the better decision for some families - this decision is not child abuse, and shouldn't be treated as such.

You can not decide if another persons reasons are valid. Some may find breastfeeding to be an enjoyable / spiritual / rewarding experience, but that doesn't mean everyone will, or that they are even capable of feeling that way given their personality or history. Trying to force someone into it by making them feel as though they are inadequate, or a bad parent is cruel and irresponsible. You are not them. The breastfeeding movement is supposed to be a positive empowering thing, and instead it attempts to take the power of choice from mothers by providing inaccurate data and bullying, and it is hurting babies through lack of information.

When it comes to how you decide to feed your baby, no body else gets to have an opinion.

The best thing you can do for your child is be the most awesome parent you can. Look beyond conception, birth and nursing to the world into which they are born, where everything they see, feel and hear starts to shape the person they will become. Your children need you to be happy, confident, and capable much more than they need breast milk, and having a stressed, overwhelmed or resentful mother is far more toxic to them than anything found in formula.


xox

Once upon a time, there lived a mouse. She was the finest mouse in all the land, with long golden fur, and shiny red eyes, which surprisingly did not make her look creepy at all.

Her name was Cinnamon.

Cinnamon was best friends with the young prince, who loved her dearly and carried her about with him for over half of his life. They played royal games such as "Spider mouse" and "Flying in a rocket ship". The prince told Cinnamon stories of his travels around the kingdom. and they went on many adventures to far off lands like The Bathroom, and The Couch.

All was well, and the days swept by in a blissful haze of laughter and happiness.

Until one day the young prince was teaching Cinnamon how to drive his truck, and Cinnamon did not want to. She tried to get out of the truck, but the young prince wanted her to stay in, and shut the trucks door.

On her neck.

Cinnamon did not survive this ordeal, and the young prince learned a harsh lesson: When you squish a small mammals head, it dies.

The End.


I hate that this happened.
I hate that this is part of his history now.
I hate that this is my fault.

He did not intend to hurt her, of that I am sure. He has been carting around tiny fragile animals since before he could walk, and the only damage he's done is stand (repeatedly) on a cats tail, (but in his defense, that cat is evil, and I think it deliberately puts it's tail under peoples feet so it can then feel justified in scratching the crap out of them,) and occasionally asking if he can hold an animal "like a pants" (which he has never actually done.)
I had grown accustomed to trusting that he wouldn't harm them. Which sounds a bit ridiculous really... He is only two, and he really wanted Cinnamon to drive that damn truck. The outcome was fairly predictable in hindsight.

I took this a lot harder than The Attack. Cinnamon was his constant companion, but if we had obtained another mouse for him, he could have switched his allegiance quite easily - he doesn't yet possess the cognitive ability to really understand pets as individual entities, they are still like toys to him, and therefore interchangeable. But he doesn't have a new mouse, and so he misses his old friend. He still asks me everyday "Where's Cinnamon gone?"

And I have to explain. Again.

I think this is the only thing I can do to help him understand - let him feel her absence.

The image of my two year old son running up to me with wide eyes and the limp body of his pet mouse in his hands, is one that is now seared into my memory. Not because it was so horrific (though it did kind of feel that way at the time... your child holding the corpse of his pet is hardly pleasant,) but because I recognized immediately what had happened, and that this was a lesson that he had to learn - I shouldn't interfere to make it easier for him. And that is hard.

So, there is no happily ever after for this tale, just life, and learning, and growing from it.

Goodbye Cinnamon, you really were a good mouse.


xox

Get a Real Job...

Join me, would you, for a mild rant? It'll be fun... promise.

Somebody said something to me the other day that raised my hackles and almost brought about a Connah-sized hissy fit.
It was said in sympathy, because I am currently sick and tired and I look sick and tired, (seriously, I'm a bit of a train wreck) and this person was obviously trying to make me feel better - she had no idea how offensive her words were to me.

So what was this thoughtless, inexcusable statement that made me want to choke her a little?:

"Oh well, at least you don't have to work in the morning."

I know, right?!

O.k, let me explain myself so I don't come of like a total shrew.

Since having children, I have stayed at home with them full time, I have worked full time, and am currently working part time. I do actually have to work in the morning, but that's not the point.

The point is, I hear this statement all the time, most often in reference to fathers who really shouldn't be woken to attend to the baby during the night, as they have to get up for work in the morning.
So, what then? If you do not get sufficient sleep, you are not able to preform your duties at work?
But, if you are staying at home with children, it's OK to do a sub-standard job due to over-tiredness because...

You are not getting paid?
You will not get fired?
Those in your care are unwilling, or unable to complain?

Taking care of children is physical. It is fraught with emotional and intellectual difficulties as you try to find your way through the minefield of growing little people into big people, and you do not get breaks. Ever.

It is awesome. And it is terrifying. Every day.

To have this woman - a mother herself - belittle what so many of us do on a daily basis, made me want to smack her upside the head. If parents don't even understand the value of what they are doing, no one else is going to either.

So next time some kind-hearted person decides to drop that empathy-bomb on you, you need to turn to them, smile sweetly, and say:

"If you find it easier to stay at home and parent your children when you are sick instead of going to work, then you are probably doing it wrong."

And that concludes today's rant.


xox

Like a Pants...

Pants is a hilarious word to me. Not because pants are an excessively amusing item of clothing, and not because of any sort of entertaining situation that has arisen whilst I have been wearing pants, but because of The Attacks use of the word.

Whether it has come from misunderstanding something he has seen or heard, or whether he just feels that this is the correct way to hold your pants, I don't know.

It started with a water balloon, which as he picked up, slipped halfway out of his hand. He stared at it for a while before the epiphany hit him and he held it up in front of him and announce triumphantly: "I IS HOLDING IT LIKE A PANTS!" Whereupon he starting plucking each balloon out of the bucket and telling it "You is like a pants" "Pantsy Pants Pants."

And if you've never seen a two year old dancing around half naked with water balloons, singing about pants, you're really missing out. Here, I'll give you a definition so that you can properly visualize it:

Definition: "Like a pants" To hold something 'like a pants' is to grasp it firmly at it's very top most region using ones whole fist to grip, and then it must be held up and out from the body so that it dangles downwards. The item may or may not be waggled. See also: "Like a pantsy"

There. Isn't your life more complete now? You're welcome.

Almost anything can be held 'like a pants', toys, curtains, plastic ware, rugs, giant inflatable furniture ect. Food seems to be a favorite choice for pants holding, as apparently it's way more fun if stuff flings off of it while it's waggling.

So next time you are feeling stressed, grumpy, or just need some amusement in your day, think of a small boy holding out a barely hatched pigeon, asking in a hopeful voice: "Hold him like a pants?" and you will smile.

Pants.

It's a funny word.



xox

A Message for Christchurch...

You have been dealt a huge blow today. A blow that is resonating throughout the country invoking shock and disbelief wherever it touches.

I have no inspiring words of comfort for what you have lost. There is very little comfort to be had after having your sense of security torn asunder, so instead, I will write what I have seen.

In the last eight hours, I have seen images of brutal death and destruction. I have seen buildings leveled, and streets carved into pieces. Buses buried beneath rubble, and billowing smoke and dust rising to the sky.



And I have seen people.



Devastated people. Blood soaked people. Broken people. People wandering aimlessly, in disbelief over what they have lost. People pulling themselves from crushed cars, and demolished buildings.

And those same people returning to the buildings they have just escaped from, to assist others still trapped. People wrapping shell-shocked strangers in blankets to keep them warm. People holding hands while they wait to hear word of their missing loved ones. People offering what little they have left, to those who have lost everything.



There is strength here. And vast amounts of courage.



Tonight will be a long night for many of you. The following days filled with confusion and uncertainty. But also with hope, and bravery, compassion and philanthropy.



And though it seems incredibly inadequate, we are all sending our thoughts and our love to you during this time.





xox

I Have A Dream...

A while ago, Connah started saying things that made very little sense. He has always come out with things that don't make much sense, but if you pay enough attention, and dig deep enough, you can usually figure out where it's come from.
This was different. Example:

Connah: *Stares accusingly at me* "You forgot!"
Me: "What did I forget?"
Connah: "You said I could have another hold before Ashden went to grans house, and I didn't!" *Glares with a look of utter betrayal.*
Me: "A hold of what Connah?"
Connah: "The baby sea lion!"

Umm ok.

Me: "Connah, we don't have a baby sea lion."
Connah: "Not anymore, you had to take it back to the store so it could have a play with that robot thingy!"

Holy crap, what just happened?

Oh, he had a dream. Well, awesome. Anyone ever tried to convince a four year old that their dreams aren't real?

Me: "Connah, you must have had a dream about it while you were sleeping."
Connah: "No I didn't."
Me: "Yeah, I'm pretty sure you did. That's when you just think stuff in your head that's not really happening in real life."
Connah: "No! I didn't! I saw that sea lion! I saw it really good! It was brown like Koko!"
Me: "Yes, you can see stuff in your dreams, but it still didn't happen in real life."
Connah: "Is that real?" *Points at train track on the floor*
Me: "Yes."
Connah: "Well I can see that just like that baby sea lion!"

A little help here, anyone?

We talked about it for a couple of weeks, and he now seems to understand the basics of dreaming, he knows they happen when you're asleep, and that your body doesn't go anywhere, and it all goes on in your head, but I'm pretty sure he still doesn't really believe me when I tell him they aren't real.

Now the conversations go like this:

Connah: "I want a remote control Pachycephalosaurus, that is red and growls and is bigger than me, and eats stuff when I feed him."
(Note: Pachycephalosaurus - pronounced: Pack-e-seff-o-la-saw-rus, (Connah learned to pronounce this well before me, thank you very much you-tube.) is a herbivorous dinosaur of the late Cretaceous period. It has a very thick bone on top of it's head which it used to head butt other dinosaurs. I only know this because Connah is going through a dinosaur phase, and if I wish to converse with him at the moment, I had better damn well be able to talk about dinosaurs.
Me: "Connah, I don't think such a thing exists."
Connah: "Yes it does. I had a dream about it."

Or:

Connah: "Can I have icecream for dinner?"
Me: "No."
Connah: "But in my dream you said I could!"

So, my problem is this: He thinks I'm lying to him. It is completely irrelevant that I'm actually not, he believes that I am.

Are all the benefits of my being completely honest with him for four years going to be undermined by dreams? I mean, eventually he's going to realize what's really going on and it wont be an issue anymore, but by then niggling little insecurities and doubts could have wormed their way into his impressionable little brain and started a chain reaction that will inevitably lead to Armageddon. Super.

Ok, maybe not Armageddon, but this is a bit of a slap in the face - a reminder that I have very little influence over how his brain processes the information given to it. Not just with the dreaming, with everything. All I can do is feed in as much goodness as possible, and hope.

I don't much care for hope. It's unsubstantiated comfort, and faith that everything will turn out as planned - which is very nice, and maybe even necessary for our humanity, but it's also a deep dark pit of helplessness, because there are no steps to take to ensure our outcome. No formula to follow to achieve our goals.
There is only...... Hope.

Hope.

It will have to be enough.


xox

I Would Die For You...

Before I start this, I just want to say that I am not suicidal, nor do I have any intention of killing anyone. I have been told that this subject is probably not something I should write about, because it makes me sound like a crazy person. But once I get a thought in my head, I have to work it all the way through to some semblance of a conclusion, otherwise it just bugs me.



You have been warned. :p



"I would die for you."



This concept seems to be a commonly accepted way to measure love. A romantic notion of leaping in front of trains, and taking a bullet to spare the one we love, and prove our eternal affection.



And while I understand this desire to protect that which we love - with our very lives if necessary - I do not agree with the notion that it is the ultimate act of selflessness, and courage.





Before I had children, I believed that I would give up my life for just about anyone. I did not want to die, and hoped that it wouldn't happen, but I believe all life has similar value, so it didn't make sense to put mine above a strangers when I had no idea what their potential or capabilities were.

Also, I wasn't overly concerned about what went on after I died, because I would be dead. Depending on your belief structure, it wouldn't matter to me what happened after I died, because either I would have no brain function and therefore no conscious thoughts to think with, or I would have transcended to a place of all knowing all seeing blah blah blah, and would be aware that everything was happening exactly as it should.



See? None of this is courageous or romantic, It's just logical.



Fast forward several years, and two children later: Sorry strangers, I will not be dying for you anymore.



Children did not give my life meaning. I have never been adrift or seeking purpose as such, What they did do is connect me to this world in a way that I'm now all tangled up in It. I can't be "apart" from it anymore, I have to actually live here. Most people will say that that is probably a good thing, and I do think it was quite necessary for the raising of sane children, but I don't like it much most days.



So I can't die for strangers anymore, because now I have to care about what goes on here after I die, and the emotional pain that that would inflict on my children is not worth a strangers life to me. Is this logical? No, not really, it's just true.



The bizarre thing I've found out about myself after having children has been that my emotional connection to them has rendered my logic fairly useless in any situation that involves their safety or mental well-being. Do their lives have more value then other lives? Probably not. Does that have any impact on who I would destroy to keep them safe? Not at all.



But would I die for them? The short answer (because I've started flailing around somewhat without actually hitting on any relevant points...) is yes, of course I would. If there were no other options - them or me - there is no choice.



But, it's a selfish choice. It's not even about valuing their lives over mine - I would die because I would not be able to live with myself if they died and there was something I could have done to prevent it - It's easier to die yourself rather than deal with the aftermath of someone you love dying. Selfish.



So, declaring your love for someone by telling them that you would die for them is like saying: "I love you enough to sacrifice my physical body, but not enough to spare you from the emotional trauma and survivors guilt that the one of us left standing will have to cope with, so I'll just leave that part for you. Selfish.



Then how will we measure our love? What is the highest level attainable if we can't measure it against the fact that we would throw ourselves upon a sword to prove our devotion?



How about this - is there anyone you wouldn't kill to save the one you love?



Your Mother?

Your Sister?

Your Son?

Your Best friend?

Your Girlfriend?

Your Husband?



Gun to your head - who do you kill?



This is a much less romantic notion, but for those who insist on having a way to prove their love, it seems a much more accurate way to test it. You would actually be forced to choose, and sacrifice someone else you love and then live, and deal with the ramifications of your choice afterwards - And that would take much courage.







I'd just like to add that people don't need to know if you would die for them, or kill for them.

Love is what it is, and therefore it's completely unnecessary to measure it, or "prove" it with anything, including declarations of self sacrifice or murder.



And really, sitting someone down and listing all the ways you would die for them is a bit crazy-stalker like, and ticking off a list of friends and family that you would slaughter for them might just end you up in jail. Nothing good will come of it. Seriously.







xox