The boobie wars
March 8, 2012 § 2 Comments
When my son was born a couple of years ago I went through many strange and wonderful changes in my body. My stomach felt spongy, my thighs kept bumping into things and my breasts were porn-star worthy. Sadly, the fluff did not last long as I was unable to breast feed. turns out my C-cups are just for show. I tried for 3 months, making him suckle and using a breast pump, drinking tons of water and whatever herbal teas old ladies recommended. The most I ever produced was 10 millilitres (one third of an ounce). In the end, both my pediatrician and my OBGYN told me to let it go, that powdered milk has the same nutrients as breast mil and that I was not harming my child in any way by bottle feeding.
I am happy to say my son’s height and weight have always been normal and his cuteness is off the charts. Even so, I have encountered some hostility, especially from other moms. “You should have kept trying! You should have done this and this and that”.
I call it boob guilt. Some people seem to believe that bottle feeding is like copping out, like cheating on a math test by taking out your calculator. I got sneers and sighs and flat-out eye brow aggression, even after I quoted the numerous studies that have revealed that breast milk is not necessarily better, it is bonding that counts.
I had a great experience bottle-feeding. It allowed my husband and parents to bond with my son at an early age. I never fed him while watching TV or reading or doing anything else. I was -and still is- our time together. While I give him a bottle I touch his hands or feet and look lovingly into his eyes. I have no regrets. Sure, if I could do it all over again with my boobs, I would. Give me the pain and the sore nipples and the grossed-out husband (mine hates milk) any day. But spare me the guilt if I can’t, or choose not to.
It’s my kid, they’re my boobs and what happens between the three of us is our business.