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My Decade of Breastfeeding
Andrea Baird
When pregnant with my first child I was absolutely determined to breastfeed. My midwife, women I met through antenatal yoga classes, and my sister-in-law, all gave me confidence to expect that I would be able to breastfeed successfully. My husband also highly valued breastfeeding and once our baby arrived he helped me create a nurturing sanctuary where my daughter and I were treated like royalty and a wave of my hand would bring a three course meal and a foot rub.
This story is a finalist in Growlife Medical's annual Essay Competition for 2021. This year's theme is "stories of mothers", where stories of honesty and depth were invited to celebrate mothers through sharing love, loss, heartache, strength, grief and hope. Read on...
I’d been pretty busy over the past few years. Then one quiet afternoon I had time to sit and think and I realised with a shock that I had been out of the paid workforce for over a decade!
“What have I been doing with my time?” I wondered. Then it dawned on me. I’d been breastfeeding!
Having recently passed the ten year mark I must be due for something - long service leave, an honorary doctorate in breast feeding, a new bra?
When pregnant with my first child I was absolutely determined to breastfeed. My midwife, women I met through antenatal yoga classes, and my sister-in-law, all gave me confidence to expect that I would be able to breastfeed successfully. My husband also highly valued breastfeeding and once our baby arrived he helped me create a nurturing sanctuary where my daughter and I were treated like royalty and a wave of my hand would bring a three course meal and a foot rub.
Luckily, I could be so focused in those early days. I had no other children to look after and had given up my paid job. I would assume the position of marathon breastfeeder: get comfortable in bed or on the couch; have piles of books and magazines beside me; my journal for writing; a water bottle; a bowl of seeds and nuts; the phone. From the outside, it might have looked like poor productivity but there was actually heaps going on. Basically 24/7, my new baby was coaching me in how to be her mother. By spending all that time with her in my arms we developed a strategic partnership that would see us through the highs and lows of our future life together.
Being an apprentice breastfeeder hurt, literally....for a while. I remember the shock as I felt her strong vice like gums grip with a primal hunger parts of my body that had never had to work a day in their lives! My soft, protected, untested nipples screamed in protest at having to do more than just look pretty. Still, feed by feed, day by day, my nipples toughened up and buckled down to the job.
Even so it was a steep learning curve - the sort of job where you have to hit the ground running without a week’s orientation and training. I was utterly unprepared for just how much life was happening to my breasts: the size they filled to; the tautness as they swelled with milk; the let downs and leaking nipples; and the tell-tale wet spots on the front of shirts. Also, I could never have imagined the wonderful physical satisfaction of feeding my baby successfully and her draining my full breasts, or the gorgeous feeling of holding my soft angel, gazing at her profile, getting to know her little body, stroking her lovely plump flesh. What a wonderful love affair to be a part of!
Of course breastfeeding is not all chocolates and roses. It wasn't for me and it isn't for a lot of women. Nearly every woman I've met, even women who were experienced breastfeeders on to their fourth or fifth child, still had feeding issues at some time in their breastfeeding careers.
Probably, the biggest hurdle I ever had to overcome was my first bout of mastitis when my baby was eight weeks old. It was a fairly serious bout - I was lucky to avoid surgery, and instead visited a breast clinic weekly for a month to syringe a cyst that had developed.
Through it all, my midwife, friends and sister-in-law kept saying, “The best thing you can do is keep feeding through this!” The crisis began to pass and I was off to a more stable pace of life with my feeding.
All the material I read, my peers and my midwife encouraged extended breastfeeding and let me know it was fine to feed a baby beyond six months old, and was also possible to feed through pregnancy and to then tandem feed with two little breastfeeders. When the breast milk came in
for my second new baby, my three year old was in heaven and renewed her interest in breastfeeding with a passion!
It was certainly handy to have an experienced and competent breastfeeder in the family when the baby milk came in. If I ever felt a hint of engorgement I would call my willing little three year old over, welcome her into my lap and she would take the edge off my discomfort and keep engorgement at bay.
Also, my nipples never needed that toughening up time again. They were ready and hardened for the most ravenous baby’s gums for the rest of my breastfeeding career.
Early into the tandem feeding stage of my breastfeeding career, I decided I could not stand the overstimulation involved in feeding my baby and my toddler at the same time, one on each breast. It felt too much like I was being eaten alive by piranhas! It was at this time that I began to gain experience in negotiation skills, conflict management, and in some cases crisis management. Sometimes it was just very, very difficult to stand by and watch another child drinking all that good tucker and being asked to wait.
I fed my first two darlings till their fifth birthday. By that stage I’d had enough. The vigorousness with which the older girls breastfed was like being milked by young giraffes - all legs and arms and big doughy eyes looking up at me while they efficiently got what they needed and then took off for their busy play.
In my community, I feel like I’m middle of the road with my breastfeeding statistics. I’ve known women to be feeding three members of their family during the same period, and I’m not talking about their husband, I’m talking about a baby, a toddler, and a young one. I’ve also known women to be comfort feeding children until they are six, seven, eight or nine years old. I’ve known other women who are feeding well into their second decade. As an older mother I may be one of the few women to have fed through the early stages of menopause.
However in comparison to the wider community in Australia and other first world countries, women who feed to at least to six months, let alone beyond are the minority, which is a shame when you consider all the amazing benefits for both baby and mother.
There’s still a way to go for breastfeeding to be accepted as a valuable activity.
Personally, I felt it to be part of my mission statement to take my breastfeeding out into the community as a role model and mentor particularly to young women. I’ve breastfed absolutely everywhere in my decade long career. I’ve fed in cafes and restaurants; in libraries; at children’s soccer matches; in hospitals, both when visiting patients and when I was a patient; on planes, buses and trains; at weddings and funerals; during performances of the Queensland Ballet and during concerts at Woodford Folk Festival.
I never breastfed while driving, though I have breastfed whilst a passenger.
The one place I never breastfed was the toilet, and it’s close relative, the designated breastfeeding rooms in the public toilets in shopping centres. I’m thankful they have those places for women who feel they couldn’t comfortably feed in public, but they weren’t places I could relax and enjoy. No fresh air, no natural lighting, no soothing ambience. I lean towards claustrophobia so I was only going to be fighting off a panic attack if I settled down for a feed in those places.
I did breastfeed whilst performing in a choir once.
There have been many times that I have been grateful for being a breastfeeder.
When our family home burnt down and my eight month old baby and I needed to spend a night in hospital, my breastfeeding supporters said, “You can feed through this!” It was not only during that initial crisis but the months it took to recover and get our lives back on track, that breastfeeding was one of my best coping strategies as a mother.
When a family member had a cancer diagnosis, being able to breastfeed my baby and toddler during hospital visits was a god send. When I spent three nights in hospital with a broken leg, being able to breastfeed my toddler was a deep comfort to both her and I, having been unused to separation.
Breastfeeding is also a wonderful way of bonding again after clashing with a cranky wilful toddler, or after parenting from a tired, inflexible place as a mum. A long, quiet breastfeed can calm both mother and toddler and reconnect us into a loving relationship.
By openly breastfeeding at family gatherings or in public, we are being powerful role models for our daughters. On many occasions whilst breastfeeding my baby, my toddler or young child would be sitting next to me breastfeeding their favourite doll or stuffed pet of choice. One of my daughters, whose favourite animal is an emu, was known to carry Emu in a sling and then sit down and give them a quick, loving breastfeed.
When I broke my leg and was in hospital for three days and contemplating weaning my youngest who was 3 3⁄4 at the time, my eldest daughter, a few months off ten said, “Oh Mum, what a shame. It seems unfair that she can’t at least breastfeed for her first four years!”
I was surprised and pleased to hear her advocating for her sister’s rights for extended breastfeeding. These are the values of a young girl from the next generation, who has seen her mother breastfeed her babies, and has grown up in a community of women who breastfeed openly at picnics, gatherings, dances. She has grown up knowing breastfeeding to be a natural way for a mother to feed her baby.
So how did I know when it was time to stop breastfeeding? Everyone has their signs. For some women it is a tired feeling and a need to have their bodies back to themselves. Some feel reluctant to feed an older child in public. I certainly felt some of all of this. When I reached the ten year mark I just knew it was time to claim my body back for myself.
Mainstream media suggest it might be when your child can walk up to you and ask for a breastfeed, or when they lift up Mum’s top and help themselves!
These are just sensational ways of expressing intolerance and ignorance about the benefits of breastfeeding for older children!
Occasionally I see a story in the media where someone has taken offence to a mother breastfeeding in public. During my decade long public career, I never once experienced judgement or distaste. In fact it was just the opposite! Women would give me a smile. Older women would come up and say, ”It’s the best thing for them, isn’t it dear.” Women my own age would ask me questions, like, “When do you know it’s time to wean?”, and I would give them my personal opinion, or they would tell me some of their own breastfeeding stories.
Over the past decade I have honed my conflict resolution and negotiation skills, I work well within a team and have excellent organisation and time management skills, all of which make me highly employable in the paid work force.
However, I have bonded so strongly with my darlings, and have so immersed myself in the role of mother, I think I’ll put off returning to the paid workforce for just a little longer.
Being a mother is priceless and even though they’re now off my breasts, my children are still in my lap and within arms-reach, and I think I’m just going to stay home a little longer and enjoy them while I can.
Make Sure you vote in the Grow Medical 2021 Essay Competition by going to our Facebook Page, and liking and sharing your favourite Story of Motherhood. If this one is your favourite, tell us why in the comments, and share it by clicking one of the circle icons at the bottom of the page.
Otherwise, read on with this year's finalists entries...
Read This Year's Finalist Entries
An essay on "daughter hunger", the story of an eldest daughter of an eldest daughter, but not a mother to a daughter.
An essay on the story of a mum by and eight year old daughter.
An essay on a love story.
A story about a daughter travelling to see her mum.
A story about a muddling through infertility.
“Hello, welcome to Parenthood…”. A story about the ever-continuing parenthood journey
The first time I saw my son - a story.
The Story of a Mother breastfeeding after Caesarian.
The Story of Discovering Motherhood.
The Story of United in Motherhood