This is yet another post inspired by the amazingly awesome Jenn over at somethingclever2point0. This week’s topic is breastfeeding.
Now, I know that Jenn is expecting to piss a lot of people off with this topic, but honestly, I’m not that worried. Most of the people that read my dribble on a regular basis either don’t have children, have a sense of humor, or at least have an open mind. This little blog o’ mine hasn’t been promoted anywhere near the status of having weird internet trolls that have nothing better to do with their time than to spew nasty (and usually ignorant) comments on blogs all day.
In my (un)professional opinion, breastfeeding is a beautifully grotesque thing. The fact that women can grow an entirely new human being inside of their bodies, shoot that watermelon out of a (magical) garden hose, and then feed and nourish said new human from a self-made source is absolutely phenomenal!
I was working at the mall and saw a woman with a fussy newborn. The baby was crying and “mom” thought that the baby might be hungry. Being stuck in the back corner of a very small store during the busiest time of year is not how I imagine she pictured herself ever trying to nurture her child. But what’s a mom to do? She tried everything short of pulling “the girls” out right there. She resulted to sitting on the floor, facing the corner, to try to feed her infant while her husband looked for a jersey. She was obviously having a hard time trying to keep herself covered.
I felt bad that she had gotten herself trapped by mobs of angry shoppers when her child decided that it was hungry, so I went over and asked her if she’d like me to clear her a path so she could get out of the store. She told me that I didn’t have to do that, and she would be fine. She was fibbing.
I obnoxiously asked people to get the hell out of the way so that this new mommy could get her full size stroller and crying infant out into the hall. It was like trying to solve a Rubik cube after a fifth of tequila.
One of my co-workers (a 17 year old girl) came over and whispered in my ear: “Is that even legal?”
Umm… Excuse the fuck out of me, but yes. Yes it is. And you bet your ass, that if she had decided that this was the time and place, and ANYBODY had a problem with it, I would have lost my job for chewing them a new asshole and spitting the skin out in their face.
Mammals have been breastfeeding their young since the beginning of time.
Some of the dinosaurs did it.
Cavemen did it.
Dogs and cats do it.
Hell, even the duck-billed platypus nurses it’s young! They lay eggs and don’t even have nipples! (It’s true. I looked it up.)
I’ll spare you the tear-jerking details, but due to complications with the birth of my first child, I had to have an emergency C-section and didn’t even get to see her for the first two days of her life. By the time I was able to get down to the NICU, my milk had started to dry up. That poor kid had too many damn tubes coming out of her face for me to even attempt breastfeeding at that point anyway.
I’m not going to lie to you and say that I’m sad I missed out on months and months of leaking, sore boobs and tender, torn-up, scabbed over nipples. (Sounds sexy, right?)
We still bonded deeply during her bottle feedings, so I don’t feel like I missed out in that department. And as far as people saying that “formula fed babies have stunted growth, health problems, and brain development issues”, they can all just go fuck themselves right now. That girl is on the honor roll EVERY single semester. In fact, she’s never gotten anything below a B! She’s an avid reader, writer, and singer. She’s creative, caring, and probably smarter than a lot of the adults I know.
Because I had the C-section with her, I had the option of scheduling the same procedure with any subsequent pregnancies. So, when I got pregnant with my son, you bet your ass I told my doctor to sign me up. I went into labor with the first one, and that shit ain’t no joke! I’m a total wuss when it comes to pain in my nether-region. Hate me if you want to, but yes, I went there.
I didn’t even attempt to breastfeed the other two. Formula was so easy to carry with us. I didn’t have to worry about pulling my “teet” out to feed the baby in a crowded restaurant. I didn’t have any of the pain, and leaking, and all of the other grossness that comes with having a tiny succubus leaching off of my body. I was never that frustrated lady that was trapped in the back of a busy store at the mall.
And I’m okay with that.
To put it more simply, breastfeeding is a choice. A very personal choice. Whether you (or your wife/spouse/baby mama) choose to breastfeed or use formula, make sure that you’re doing it for you. And don’t let what other people think get you down, or make you feel like a “bad parent”. As long as you’re loving your child with every fiber of your being, you made the right choice.
My kids are all happy, healthy, and smart, and they know that they are loved. That’s all that matters to me…
If you want to read other people’s opinions on this topic, click this nifty blue scribble button. It will make the world a better place if you do. (It will also make you smarter, sexier, and better at basketball*)
*I’m lying. It won’t do any of that. But you may find some awesomely interesting people to stalk…