Adventures of the American Breast, as Compared to the French and Irish

After that doozie of a delivery, I further devoted myself to a natural start for my first baby.  I began breastfeeding in the hospital, and while it wasn't easy, I thought I'd gotten the hang of things by the time we were wheeled out the door.

I was wrong, however, and we were walking back in the door two days later.  I needed help from the nurses; the whole thing seemed so much easier with four hands instead of two.  I struggled for a while longer, wrestling with extremely sore, blistered, bleeding nipples.  At some point, though, things shifted into gear and we found our groove.  I weaned her on her first birthday.

Baby girl number two came along, little and speckled with petechiae like a robin's egg.  She did well at the breast in the hospital, but, once again, we struggled at home.  I remember the toe-curling pain of a starved, reflexive infant latching on to a blistered nipple at three in the morning.  I loved that little elf more than anything, but cringed whenever she peeped, knowing that pain was the only way to feed her, and no one else could help. 

With her it never got better.  I cried and cried, fighting with myself over giving up and the huge sense of failure that came with that.  Finally, a nurse gave me an out- she said at some point the benefits of continuing will be at the expense of a having happy family who can enjoy their newborn.  She was right- I wan NOT enjoying my baby, and my husband and older daughter were having to deal with a weepy, nerve-wrung wife and mom. 

So, at about four weeks I gave in and sent Daddy out for a can a formula.  The relief that followed was like a rebirth in and of itself.  I found myself again, rejoined the rest of the world, and let go of that sense of guilt.  My baby would be fine, and so would I.

We repeated the same basic pattern when little lady number three came along- only this time I held out for six weeks thanks to a rented pump.  With her I was able to draw the discomfort out a little longer; the pain was bad with the pump, but not AS bad.  I just didn't let myself get to that point of panic again- I knew things would be fine if I needed to quit.

Since then, I have learned that you do the best you can, and then the million other factors come into play to influence the health of your children.  I am proud that I gave my first daughter that whole year, and that I was able to breastfeed my other two exclusively for their first month.  They are all healthy, very rarely sick.  Two of them have broken bones (my second little fragile daughter had three fractures in her arm at 14 months- eek!- but then her solid breast-fed-for-a-year big sister snapped two bones in her arm last year). 

The topic of breastfeeding is obviously meaningful to me as a mother.  It has bigger meaning, though, which speaks to my support system and culture.  Through it all I had an amazing support in my husband.  He listened while I screeched, he helped me be discreet while I breastfed at football games and restaurants.  He did not judge or push when I needed to give in.  He picked up the slack when we switched to bottles and took some of that burden away.  My sisters were supportive, my mother and brother were supportive.  Our hospital was helpful and America as a whole had swung the pendulum of tolerance back toward the direction of breastfeeding enough to allow me to feel like I had the right and the support to breastfeed my children... or not.

I was shocked, however, to learn that things are not that way in many European countries.  France, for example, has some of the lowest breastfeeding rates in the world (Gibbons, 2011).  Ireland's rates are extremely low, too (Tarrant et al, 2011).  I guess I just assumed that European cultures would be on par with American culture when it came to a health/parenting trend such as breastfeeding.  A culture that doesn't support mothers, or that doesn't provide education, or worse, that mis-educates parents about the natural nature and benefits of breastfeeding is one which fails to support the best start for its smallest citizens.  According to what I've read, the cultures of France and Ireland do not present a supportive atmosphere for mothers who would otherwise breastfeed, and so formula from the beginning is the norm. 

Not that it is the absolute end of the world.  Quality formula and adequate pediatric care can help new babies grow up to be strong, healthy people, too.  But I would hate to think that mothers are being pressured out of breastfeeding.

In my work, I have consulted early learning and care providers on supporting breastfeeding moms, and hope to have further opportunities to assist providers in facilitating a family's choice to breastfeed even after mom goes back to work.  After having read about cultures which are not as supportive, I'm happy to be part of a system that promotes a families' option to breastfeed, or, as in my case, to not breastfeed when that becomes the choice a mother makes.

Gibbons, F. (2011).  In France, breast is definitely not best.  Guardian.co.uk.  Retrieved September 15, 2012 from http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2011/apr/01/france-breast-breastfed-baby-death. 

Tarrant, R.C., Younger, K.M., Sheriden-Pereira, M., Kearney, J.M. (2011).  Factors associated with duration of breastfeeding in Irelend: potential areas for improvement.  Arrow.dit.it.  Retrieved on September 15, 2012 from http://arrow.dit.ie/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1075&context=scschbioart&sei-redir=1&referer=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.google.com%2Furl%3Fsa%3Dt%26rct%3Dj%26q%3Dbreastfeeding%2520trends%2520in%2520ireland%26source%3Dweb%26cd%3D2%26ved%3D0CCgQFjAB%26url%3Dhttp%253A%252F%252Farrow.dit.ie%252Fcgi%252Fviewcontent.cgi%253Farticle%253D1075%2526context%253Dscschbioart%26ei%3DRClVUKK1NdLOyAHY0oGACA%26usg%3DAFQjCNHhRVq1Gx9PFIsa2vubK43CuNP4eg#search=%22breastfeeding%20trends%20ireland%22.