Breastfeeding Leper

I had this grand idea that for national breastfeeding awareness week (if it still exists without the funding), I would publish a blog post every day on the subject. Then I remembered I barely find time to post once a month at the moment so I forgot the idea.

However, I thought I'd try for at least one post. But there is so much to discuss about breastfeeding as it's such an emotive subject, so I thought I'd take a different angle, to show that we breastfeeders sometimes feel excluded and despised too.

Now don't get me wrong, I am a confident breastfeeder. I don't feel the need to hide away and will happily breastfeed in a coffee shop, restaurant, well, wherever I need to really. But there have been times when I haven't found it so easy.

For example, when Felix was still tiny and I was trying to find my feet, getting used to being at home and having to find friends to spend my days with (either that or never speak to another adult ever again!), I went along to a local baby group. At first the breast/bottle divide was about 50-50. After the first couple of sessions though, I don't remember seeing anyone else breastfeeding. The plastic chairs (think school hall) were set out in a circle in the middle of the room. So there was no opportunity for discretion, and there was no way of making yourself comfortable. Nobody spoke to me whilst I was feeding either. I felt ostracised from the group, like an intruder with a disgusting habit.

I believe I gave the group one more chance after this. Nothing any worse happened but I felt no real desire to attend again. I went on a mission to find other breastfeeding mums to befriend and thankfully my antenatal class members came good (they weren't an obvious first choice as we were sent to an NCT group the other side of the city and we only made it to one class before Mr Premature decided to enter the world).

My point is, that it's often the formula-feeders that feel the breastfeeders look down on them, pity them or criticise them. It happens to breastfeeders too y'know. Nicknames like the Breastapo come from our need to display confidence in our decision to breastfeed. It's a defence mechanism to any negativity we may feel.

I think our own inner feelings of guilt or insecurity can make us imagine other people's prejudice in these situations. I know formula feeders who never even considered breastfeeding and are more than confident in their decision. They don't feel belittled by me and I don't feel embarrassed about breastfeeding in their presence.

How about you? Breastfeeders: did you ever feel excluded by the bottle-feeders? Formula mums: have you ever felt pity for or judgemental about another mums decision to breastfeed?

Thick and Creamy

Ladies and Gentlemen, please be advised that the nappy consistency has changed. I repeat, the nappy consistency has changed.

Oh my. In fact, that particular nappy was much like the parsnip and apple that I have just pureed to a smooth mush.

The change in nappy contents, was one of many reasons that I was not looking forward to beginning weaning. Alas, it is not considered polite for a child to go on being exclusively breastfed into adulthood, nor is it healthy for the child. So I suppose weaning must commence.

And so it did, last week. Along with the increase in laundry, there was a noticeable increase in my stress levels too. I had forgotten quite how little I had enjoyed weaning my eldest. Could this be to blame for his picky eating now he is nearly 3?

I will not let this happen again. Just in case it was to blame. And so, when I sit down to introduce the baby's palate to a world of new flavours, I will take a deep breath, I will relax my shoulders and I will NOT let the mess annoy me. I will put out of mind that this will be his third outfit change of the day and I will allow my own hands and clothes to be wiped, spat and dribbled on.

I will not get cross when his hands or his bib find their way into his mouth instead of the spoon and I will smile and sing merrily (not at all through gritted teeth) to regain his attention when he non-chalantly gazes out of the window or arches his back in frustration. When a fully loaded spoon is knocked flying from my hand, I shall laugh in the face of the cleaning cloth. Food will be fun. And mummy will be calm.

Spoons at the ready. Let the culinary battle commence.

I wish I was pregnant

We are finally beginning to make some progress with the whole sleep thing. I feel human enough to do something with my time other than mope about, even if my past two attempts at an early night (as sleeping from 8pm-1am would mean a WHOLE FIVE HOURS sleep in one go!!!) haven't exactly resulted in more sleep. Stupid brain won't switch off.

For those others of you, desperately searching for the answer to that baby-nighttime-sleep problem, it's simple. Go on a holiday in the UK that involves a loooong drive. Baby sleeps in car, baby has proper daytime sleep, ergo baby sleeps at night. Oh, and a big cot is helpful for a baby who can roll so they can sleep in whatEVER position they choose.

In the meantime, I got to thinking about how NOT being pregnant anymore really sucks. Don't get me wrong, I do NOT want another baby (not right now anyway thanks), but there are elements of pregnancy that make life sooo much easier...

Like my hair not falling out - I swear, I emptied a FULL fistful of hair into the bin after my shower this morning. It was disgusting. And think how much I must have missed in the past month which is now currently residing in the plughole, soon to completely block up the bath!

And what's with my hair getting all greasy? During pregnancy I could easily skip the shampoo for one day. Now, it's like I have a big sign on my forehead and a siren screeching "not washed, not washed".

Breastfeeding is commonly known as ample excuse to continue "eating for two" long after the birth of your child... but I have to say I've noticed the weight gain and have concluded that it is time to stop that fourth meal of the day when Felix has his tea. Eating his leftovers is ok though, right?

Not carrying round a big old bump means you lose a lot of people's sympathy too. No-one offers to carry things anymore or make me drinks. I'm not expected to need to sleep at any given opportunity or need help around the house. But the truth is, your body doesn't return to normal (what is normal?) that quickly, and whether it's first, second or (I'm sure) subsequent child, it's a shock to the system that takes more than a couple of months to adjust to. It's a whole new life again.

And the best thing about being pregnant... no periods OR contraception. I'm very happy to still be period-free (oh breastfeeding - you ARE my friend), but did not enjoy having a doctor messing around inside me again, even if it does mean I can now forget about contraception for five years. Next time, it's the male pill. Let's see how he likes it.