Guest Post: Breastfeeding While Vegan

I'm so excited to bring you today's guest post by one of my favorite lactivists, Anayah. You may remember her from the hilarious "Sh*t People Say to Breastfeeding Mothers" video. Today she's discussing an important topic: how to stay healthy and provide the best nutrition for your baby while vegan.

We’re 23 months into this thing. SJ must have known how little I actually knew about breastfeeding, because he latched on perfectly within 30 minutes of being born. The midwife had included pamphlets in our home birth info pack, complete with troubleshooting tips featuring glossy, colorful close-up shots of conditions like thrush and cracked nipples. In my babymooning, I tucked them away and buried my head in the sand. I’d cross those bridges if I ever came to them. It turns out that the most difficult parts of this journey have been maintaining self-care on a plant-based diet and now, keeping my cool through weaning. There were no pamphlets for those things.
So, I’m one of those people who eat a vegan diet. This means that the foods I eat come from plants. On top of that, I’m somewhat of a health nut, so I eat lots of greens, very little processed foods, and try to make sure most of my meals are made at home. I’ve been vegan for about 20 years of my life, but breastfeeding pushed me to reconsider my diet in ways I didn’t have to before. Most people want to talk about protein when it comes to veganism, but since that’s a completely uninformed concern, I won’t deal with it here. I’m also going to take for granted that you’re just as concerned about nutrition as eating organic as much as is reasonable and fighting for clean water and air (heard about the jet fuel found in breastmilk?). Those things aside, I believe the most important concern for a vegan breastfeeding mother is FAT!

My first point of advice is to make sure you’re getting enough calories. We all know that breastfeeding can burn 200-500 calories a day. A vegan diet is naturally low-fat because we don’t consume the animal fats that omnivores do. I was dismayed at how quickly I lost my plump post-baby body; it took me a few months to realize that the demands of exclusive breastfeeding required me to be intentional about eating foods like avocados, soaked nuts, nut butters and coconut oil. Eating for two (or three or more), right?

The second thing to consider is vitamin B12. Actually, anyone struggling with energy might want to check on their vitamin B12 intake anyway. Low vitamin B12 levels can show itself as fatigue, memory loss, and/or depression. Vegans are particularly at-risk for B12 deficiency if we don’t eat foods that are fortified with it, like fortified cereals. I prefer to use nutritional yeast, which contains the B vitamins and has a nutty, yet malleable flavor. There are also claims that some coconut products, like coconut nectar, amino acids or vinegar have broad-spectrum B vitamins. I’ll wait for the studies before depending on them though.

Then, there’s vitamin D. There is lots of debate about which type of vitamin D is safe for vegans: D2 or D3. Most people get their vitamin D from the same place they get their B vitamins: fortified foods. Pretty much any milk (whether cow’s or almond) has vitamin D added to it. Since vitamin D is needed to help the body absorb calcium and maintain strong bones, you definitely don’t want to fool around here (you do like your teeth, right?). Even before pregnancy, I knew from having my blood examined that I was severely deficient in vitamin D3. I take great pains to get lots of sun exposure and ensure adequate vitamin D intake. For the record, most vitamin D3 supplements come from animal sources, while D2 does not, though your body will still have to convert it to D3.

I’m trusting you to consult your doctor, nutritionist or whatever health professionals you trust on these things. Still, from one breastfeeding mother to another, I want to push you past nutrition talk to remind you to take care of yourself. If you’re a first-time mother like I am, please get into the habit of making sure your support circle supports your health, as well as the baby’s. Breastfeeding should not be at your expense, no matter how much of a “sacrifice” it is. In my case, taking care of myself meant constantly being vocal and clear about my needs. My husband and visitors were gently reminded to help make sure I ate enough, ate well, stayed hydrated and rested. I had to remind my husband that SJ would get everything he needed from my breastmilk, but that I needed to be conscious of what I consumed. Not getting enough calcium, your body is smart enough to take it from your bones (teeth!). So, eating well and self-care are a breastfeeding mother’s protection.


Now, when you develop the magic equation for stress-free weaning, drop me a line on twitter: @anayahrose.



Anayah is a blogging mother, wife, doula, childbirth educator and aspiring midwife. She earned a M.S.Ed. in Urban Education and is active in her community around food and reproductive health justice. She co-edited the forthcoming “Free to Breastfeed: Voice from Black Mothers” and gives talks about breastfeeding and food justice. In addition to the FtB blog, she co-founded SoulVegFolk, a social network that connects and nurtures African descended families through healthy, eco-lifestyles, and writes a personal blog.

For more information on breastfeeding while vegan or vegetarian, see Kellymom's page on Vegetarian Diets & Breastfeeding.
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Guest Post: The Power of Breastfeeding

I'm pleased to present a guest post today by Rebecca Jackson-Artis, a mover and shaker in the breastfeeding world in Chicago. Rebecca inspires me with her passion and you will understand why after you read this post. *Trigger warning for talk of sexual molestation*

When Elita asked me to write a guest post about my personal breastfeeding story, I thought, “What should I write….hmmm… I KNOW!” Okay, it’s going to be kind of uncomfortable but in the end you will have more of a grasp of why I am so extraordinarily passionate about the empowerment of breastfeeding. *Inhale, exhale*


When I talk about exclusive breastfeeding I talk about the empowerment that automatically comes with it. Many people don’t really get why my words are so blunt and abrasive at times. Often their response is, “Okay, Rebecca, I get it. “ My friends joke with me. Many send me articles via e-mail. My mother and her friends even cut out articles and photocopy documents they come across on the subject of lactation. Their e-mails or cut-outs are introduced with, “Have you heard about this?” or “I thought you’d be interested in this.” I love it all even if I know about it already. It lets me know I am getting their attention and my voice is reflecting the empowerment I received from birthing Thrice and Jack naturally (both with midwives and one of them at home) and putting them to my breasts, nourishing them mind, body and soul. The word “breasts” is a very powerful word even for me to type. Breasts. The reason is (get ready for the uncomfortable part)…..I was molested.

Yes, I was molested. It took me many years to say that and a lot of forcing myself to accept repressed memories of the multiple times my female cousin raped my innocence. Wow, powerful description, true description. I was so fearful for years to talk about it thinking people would be disgusted with me, blame me and lash out at me for allowing the despicable acts I faced as a child from four to about ten years old. I don’t remember when was the definite time it stopped because I told myself it needed to be forgotten. My cousin became a highly sought after basketball player who eventually dropped out of college, used illegal drugs regularly, birthed a son and became a faint figure in our family, appearing at family events every five years or so. Ironically, she made me the godmother of her son who is amazing in every way and I applaud him for not succumbing to the abandonment by his mother with rebellion.

When my cousin would groom me for her personal suppression of pain and sexual domination over the creeps who her mother allowed to violate her natural childhood maturation, she would use words that made me feel uneasy about my body. Words that may be difficult for you to know were said to a five, six, seven-year-old girl whose mother wouldn’t allow her to even hear “y’all” too many times in an hour. She would do these acts at family gatherings while the adults trusted the children to play amongst themselves, safely. My older cousin would always end the dark room moment with a threat to not let anyone know and how they wouldn’t understand what went on in the dark room. I hated her. I hated the feelings I felt. I hated myself which included everything about being female.

My grandmother, mother and, to my former frustration, I have the large breasts gene that suddenly crept up on me at the age of 13. By this time, I hadn’t been molested for a few years, started having crushes on boys and worked really hard at proving I was a good kid. My father’s affection toward me lessened (he was rarely affectionate before I hit puberty so imagine what it was like while going through it and after…a hand shake was a Hallmark moment for us) and he repetitively listed at random moments why boys were evil, low-life beings who roamed the Earth. So, I hated my body, hated my female energy, I was so fearful of connecting with males and most important, I hated my breasts. It was no wonder I spiraled into a deep depression that lasted until I was in my twenties. I was in and out of therapists’ offices until I finally found one I felt comfortable with. It was a December day while home from college that I finally told him what I had learned so well to bury. “I was molested.” I waited until the very end of our session at the last appointment before heading back to college for Spring Semester. I was 20. I went back and had some more sessions with Dr. G but we never brought it up because I wouldn’t let him. In my early twenties I had a problem with sex. I associated it with chores. It was something you had to do when you are in a relationship even though you would rather go to work and surf the internet for that coupon code to the department store seasonal sale that coupled with your department store credit card’s 10% off discount would give you all the escape from reality you needed. Weirdly enough, I always had a date, a boyfriend or a guy to call me and put up with my extreme artistic, neurotic personality. After my father made his transition in 2003 and my live-in boyfriend died after a motorcycle accident in 2005, I met this amazing man who spoke to me in ways I had never been spoken to with words that fit into my life like missing puzzle pieces which guided me to creating a firm foundation and brought me out of serious clinical depression. I married Craston in 2006, got pregnant with our first son in 2007 and gave birth two weeks after my 30th birthday in January 2008.

Okay, I know what you thinking now, What does this have to do with breastfeeding? This is where I tie it all together. *cracking my knuckles*

While I was pregnant I firmly decided on two things, (1) I was going to have a complete non-intervention birth and (2) I was going to exclusively breastfeed. There was no negotiation in my mind, none! I meditated on it, got one of the best doulas in Chicago and had a very supportive husband who researched everything. I had a completely natural birth and I did it at a pretty progressive hospital with a great midwifery program. Now, it’s time for the breastfeeding. No problem. I took a class, have a holistic husband to support me, there’s a great doula at my side and OH NO! ONE THING I FORGOT! You need to expose your breasts when you breastfeed! OH MY WORDLY POSSESSIONS!!! It was like everything went into slow motion in that birthing room. The midwife signaled to the doula that everything was fine. The doula began speaking in the slow motion voice that makes even the most high-pitched mousey voices go baritone. “Noooowww, taaakkke offffff yoooour goooowwwwn.” I did. Surrounding the bed were my mother, the midwife, the nurse assistant, my husband and the doula. Well, send me to San Fernando Valley and yell action for God’s sake! Thrice then scooted, ever so gently, to my left breast with the doula’s help for his first latch. I was gearing up for that emotional molestation recall when *latch*: a flood of joy, amazement and spiritual awe poured over me. The room became much smaller and everyone in it disappeared. It was just my newborn son and me. I realized the negativity I had for so many years about my breasts was wasted negative energy that was easily turned into love. I realized my vagina was the path to the onset of life (creating and producing). I realized my body was not sexual at all but beautifully functional, created with balance. Most importantly, I realized I was everything I needed and more, completely and abundantly. The hate, fear, pain and anxiety came from something that had been passed on to me which was made up of lies and rage.

The first couple of weeks I was closely monitored due to my history of clinical depression. I had a slight case of baby blues which my husband reminded me of this past weekend while we celebrated our 5th wedding anniversary. I completely forgot because even though I had a small case of the blues I gained so much power in the first month. I became a woman in every sense of the word. The culmination of giving birth and putting Thrice to my breast helped to complete a rite of passage. It was the beginning of me healing from years of violation, fear and anger. I began allowing myself to forgive my cousin. I saw her with a different perspective. I started to open up to my husband, family and friends about the molestation. I viewed it differently, almost thanking my cousin for helping me to see my strength by having the ability to get to the other side, still loving a man and allowing myself to be vulnerable to a partnership of unconditional spiritual love. I wrote a play talking about the story. I forgave myself.

This all hasn’t come without a cost. My mother, the following year, had a massive stroke which left her partially paralyzed. Our relationship has changed vastly and the molestation has been brought to the surface which she cannot deal with. I totally understand. She feels like she let something slip by her and she is upset with me for not telling her years ago. Many of my relatives are upset with me and tell me, “Just get over it, Rebecca, please. You’re holding on to something that won’t change.” Every time they tell me that I share my story again. I am slightly overprotective of my step-daughter and sons. I make sure at family events all doors are open and the kids are where we all can see each other at all times. Also, my youngest son is 18 months old (we are not having any more children) and I know I have about another year to nurse him which makes me wonder what level of empowerment that milestone will take me. Thinking about it makes me clutch my chest.

So, breastfeeding has opened a wonderful new chapter in my life which has made me face some elements of it that I had been avoiding intentionally. I learned to trust; trust my body, trust my babies. I had no clue what I was doing but innately I knew to just put them to the breast and nature would take its course. Breastfeeding has empowered me in ways that has taken me to levels of enlightenment and peace and healing and love. Breastfeeding has been a path to my Creator, my Source, God, The Universe. I see the world much clearer. I see people as part of the collective source energy. There is a strong connection between mind and body. Thoughts and words are powerful. I truly see every living being as One. I know it all sounds like a big cliché but it is so true for me. The subject of Oneness is not just talk anymore, it’s reality.

I may get upset with someone but I turn back to my Source energy and give thanks for that someone being in my life. I give thanks to my cousin. I slowly let the negative part of her go, no longer controlling my freedom. I send her joy, peace and love. You see, she’s a part of the collective Source which many of us call God.

Now, that’s the power of Breastfeeding!

Rebecca Jackson-Artis, CLS lives in Chicago with her very supportive husband, Craston and her two breastfed sons, Craston III and Jackson. She is a professional actress and writer who became a Certified Lactation Specialist in April 2009 when she realized the lack of resources and support mothers of color have regarding breastfeeding. She started an online community to support mothers of color called The Abiyamo Omo Society in 2008. In August 2010, she co-founded The Monolatry Group with Vanessa Stokes, a company that provides lactation resources and clinical assistance to municipalities, corporations and mothers of all racial and economic backgrounds.





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Guest Post: Breastfeeding: The Good, the Bad & the Ugly

I'm pleased to have dianthe hall guest post for me today on her breastfeeding experience. I discovered dianthe's blog in my Google Alerts when she wrote about nursing her toddler daughter, Sydney and I've been hooked ever since!

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly – My Breastfeeding Story


The Good

I always knew I would breastfeed my kids. My mom did it and I never questioned it because I thought that was just what you did. Plus it was free and I’m lazy. Kidding. Sort of. I had never considered formula feeding but having heard about the cost from friends, it was definitely a deterrent. I like to spend my extra cash on shoes! And the idea of making and warming bottles at 3am didn’t appeal to me either.

Though my original goal was to breastfeed for 6 months, I ended up breastfeeding my daughter for 3 years and 13 days. Currently, I’m breastfeeding my 19 month old son. For those of you doing the math, I’ve been breastfeeding nonstop for 3 ½ years including a year of tandem nursing. It was a great experience and I would definitely do it again, but it has been a lot of work … and I’m not finished yet! Like Sydney, Myles is all about the boob so I have no doubt that we’ll make it well past my goal of 2 years.

For the most part, my breastfeeding experience has been positive. From the moment my children were born, I’ve had nothing but support. I was blessed with a fantastic OB who supported my breastfeeding decisions (even nursing through my pregnancy) 110%. And while my friends and family may think I’m crazy, they’re still supportive! I was fortunate to find a local Mommy Message Board with a ton of nursing mamas who became my breastfeeding mentors. Even when things are going well and you don’t necessarily need advice, it never hurts to have someone to celebrate (or commiserate) those nursing milestones with.

The best breastfeeding advice I ever got was from my doula who taught me how to nurse side-lying. Saved.my.life. Sydney refused to sleep on her back so I slept with her on my chest for the first couple of weeks. Then she got her days and nights mixed up and I was literally BEGGING her to go to sleep. Once I learned to nurse her side-lying, we were a much happier family!

Another positive breastfeeding experience was nursing in public. When I was pregnant, my mom gave me a nursing cover. I will never forget how pissed Sydney was when I tried to practice feeding her with that dark cover over her head. Ever the diva, she was all about being the center of attention. Even if it was just the two of us sitting on the floor of her nursery. She wouldn’t even tolerate a light blanket. That’s when I knew I was either going to have to suck it up or prepare for a lifetime at home. Soon after, I figured out the whole “pull up-pull down” method and we were on our way. I was still nervous the first couple of times but when I realized that no one was paying attention to me, I began to relax. Since then, I’ve nursed just about everywhere – the middle of the mall, the library, even in a sling walking through Costco. No one has ever said a negative word to me though I have gotten many smiles!

And then there was that whole tandem nursing thing … Though Sydney nursed about 6 months longer than I would have liked (I was all about the “gentle weaning” method!), she was a lifesaver those first couple of months. Myles was a great eater but even he couldn’t keep up with my oversupply. Enter his big sister who was only too happy to pick up his slack! I was glad that she would be nursing through flu season and her scrawny behind even gained a couple of pounds! I also loved the bond that tandem nursing created for them. I was afraid she might be jealous having a new baby around, but despite a few incidents where she asked my husband to “hold Baby Myles”, she didn’t mind sharing at all! Looking back, I’d pay money to snuggle and nurse both my babies again. Those memories of Myles nursing while sitting in Sydney’s lap are priceless! Though I do recall it being a tad uncomfortable for me!!

The Bad

Now don’t get me wrong, it hasn’t all been roses. Those first couple of days were ROUGH! Both of my children breastfed almost immediately without any problems so I assumed it would be all good. Little did I know what would happen once we got home. The nurse at the hospital told me to breastfeed Sydney every 2 1/2 -3 hours. Which would have been fine except that my daughter needed to eat every hour to hour and a half. And in my post-partum haze, I recalled reading somewhere that I shouldn’t pump in the first few weeks, though I couldn’t remember why. The combination left me with boulder filled breasts, crying in the shower and hand expressing my precious liquid gold down the drain. And don’t get me started on my crying baby! Thankfully, my doula swooped in to save the day and talked to me about nursing on demand.

Many of my friends struggled with a low supply while I dealt with an oversupply. It sounds like a great problem to have until you realize that the reason your baby has green poopy diapers is because she’s filling up on foremilk and never getting to the fatty hindmilk. I could easily pump 12+ ounces in one sitting and over half of it would be foremilk. I leaked milk everywhere I went and couldn’t take off my bra without literally spraying milk everywhere. It took a good 6-9 months for my supply to level out.

And what about work? My daughter was 10 weeks old when I went back to work. At the time, I worked for a very small company in very close quarters. There was no extra space or empty offices and the only available place to pump would have been in my car (or the bathroom – no.) And because of my schedule and job duties, it would have been difficult to get away so I had to improvise. I pumped in the morning while I did my hair and makeup and then as soon as I got off work, I would race home to either feed Sydney or pump again. There were days where I would go as long as 8-10 hours without pumping and sometimes resorted to pumping in the car as I drove home.

The Ugly

For the most part, everyone has been supportive. I’ve had a few family members jokingly tell me it’s time to wean but they know me well enough not to push the issue. I’ll wean my kids when it’s time and not a minute before. And then there was that crazy phlebotomist …

I had to take Myles to the lab to have some blood drawn for some tests a couple of months ago. Of course as soon as they were done, Myles started screaming and I immediately tried to nurse him to calm him down. As I was trying to get him latched on, I heard the phlebotomist say, “Mommy, I’m too old for that." I was so caught off guard that I wasn’t sure I’d heard her correctly. But then she said it again. And of course by the time it registered, she was gone. Normally I would have gone off on her but I was so shocked that I couldn’t even put a sentence together. Fortunately I pulled it together when I got home and immediately reported her. Not even an hour later I got a follow-up phone call from her supervisor letting me know that she was out of line, her behavior was unacceptable and that they had already taken care of the matter. Breastfeeding – 1, Ignorance – 0!!

Breastfeeding has been an awesome experience for me, although there have been a few rough spots. I think if I’d taken a breastfeeding class, it would have been a little easier. I knew nothing about feeding on demand or engorgement issues and a heads up would have been nice! If you’re on the fence about breastfeeding, I would absolutely recommend it. I think the key is to do what you can, don’t stress yourself out and ask for help if you need it. Even if you only breastfeed for a little while or part time, something is better than nothing. Everyone has different circumstances and comparing your situation to someone else’s is detrimental to all of us. You can only do what’s best for you and your baby! Just like being a mom, just because it’s natural doesn’t mean that it won’t be hard!



dianthe hall (with a lowercase d) is Wifey to Kelley and Mommy to Sydney Jane (3 ½) and Myles Emanuel (19 months).  In her professional life she plans weddings, blogs for a syndicated morning radio show and masquerades as a wanna-be-writer at oneofthosemoms.com.  In her spare time (ha!) she wastes time on Facebook and Twitter, watches reality tv and eats a LOT of Blue Bell ice cream.

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Guest Post: Our Unassailable Bond

I'm pleased to present a guest post today from K. Emily Bond, Writer, Editor, Researcher and Blogger Extraordinaire! 

Through blood and tears, breastfeeding fortified our unassailable bond

Once upon a time, pre-baby when my life was one big ball of crime writing ambition, I had a literary agent who told me, “I was not someone who had to have a kid, you know what I mean?”

I can’t resist the impulse to fact-check. The preceding was an estimation of what she said to me in my heavily pregnant state—and I don’t need to remind you how reliable our memories are 40 weeks into gestation.

Basically she was conveying that “maternal” was not a state that came naturally to her. Breastfeeding on the other hand, the most primal of maternal acts, caught her by surprise. This, I remember her saying pretty accurately: “The thing I miss most is nursing.”

I didn’t get it at the time. Her kid was a teenager whose best friend’s dad was a famous rock star. Clearly, a lot had transpired since she weaned: first steps, first words…first VIP passes to the MTV Music Video Awards. How could nursing be the thing she reflected on or even missed the most?

Now, six months after my son and I have weaned, I’m starting to get it.

In the beginning…

For me, nursing was an exceedingly difficult physical challenge. I had a C-section, for starters, and at one point during the birth had been put on antibiotics. As such, my body and son’s mouth became a Petri dish for sharing candida: the dreaded oral thrush. Ouch.

For weeks, I endured bleeding, cracked nipples, piercing razor-like pain that shot through my breasts like daggers each and every time my son latched on. Taking a shower was an event I dreaded because I knew at some point water would have to come in contact with my tender nipples. And, truth be told, every time my little bundle of discomfort—sorry, joy—wanted to nurse, I’d cringe: “Oh, no…not again!”

Those initial months…well, they sucked. And, oy vey, could that boy suck—with the ferocity of a Hoover, or a character out of Twilight.

Come hell or high water, though—or in this case, cracked nipples or bleeding—I made a commitment to my son and to myself to keep on nursing. And we did, boobs in tact.

What saved our nursing relationship in the end was La Leche League International, Nystatin, dietary changes (more leafy greens and yogurt; less refined sugars and carbohydrates) and these:

Yes, I spent much of my babymoon looking like a 50s pinup girl, but breast shells were essential in helping my body heal so that I could start enjoying nursing.

A nursing revolution…

Nip slips never bothered me. It didn’t matter where I was or how shocking it might have looked in an Ikea aisle, house of worship, pancake house or shopping mall. If it was time to nurse, the boobs came out. I got the occasional comment, sure. But nursing was too precious of a bond to be cut short by a guy who said stupid things like, “You need to give that baby a biscuit,” with his pregnant wife in tow.

My attitude was, “if you don’t like it… stop looking.” Perv.

In retrospect, I did perhaps take some perverse pleasure in shocking dudes like that. I felt like a revolutionary demonstrating to the world how natural it is to integrate nursing into your daily life. It was a bit, “look at me – I can nurse and shop for groceries at the same time!” but it was true…with a good baby carrier, anything is possible.

To demonstrate what an avid outdoor nurser I was, check me out on the city bus:




And, at dinner:



I don’t think I look like that much of a weirdo or even, at second glance, that much of a revolutionary.

End of a nursing era…

Nursing was non-negotiable, a decision I am so proud of making. Also non-negotiable, my end date. By the time my son turned two, I’d been regretting that decision for two months.

Perhaps regret is not the right word to use. It felt right to stop nursing. At twenty months, I was getting fatigued. We’re a co-sleeping family and the nighttime nursing was becoming a serious issue. His teeth, too, were a problem. Those early physical pangs started coming back, which I took as my body’s way of telling me it was time to put the boobs back in the holster. Honestly, I wanted my body back, too. Over the course of a few weeks, our nursing came to an end.

Guess what? I was floored by how sad that made me. The warning I had received so long ago in that tower in midtown Manhattan from one of the toughest women I’ve ever met came back and punched me in the gut.

My son and I had forged an unassailable bond through nursing. It’s how we got to know each other. How I conveyed to him for the first time that, as his mommy, “I will never give up on you, even if it makes me bleed.”

That, however, is a lesson he might not fully comprehend until he becomes a parent himself. Just as I didn’t comprehend how much love my parents have for me until I became a mother. That’s a subtlety that’s revealed itself over time, though. In my brief narrative as a parent I have received three big, concrete lessons, weaning being the most bittersweet of all.


The first one I learned from my C-Section: acknowledging my mortality. The second from nursing: mother boldly and fearlessly. And the third: trusting when it’s time to let go.

I sometimes check in with my son to see what he remembers about nursing. For instance, when he wanted to nurse, he would pat my breasts three times and tug at my clothes. Now, when we joke, he pats my breasts three times and dissolves into a cloud of laughter. He remembers…he knows. It’s unassailable, that bond.


Díga(Mama), a.k.a. K. Emily Bond, has worked for lots of newspapers, magazines and online media gigs including O, The Oprah Magazine, Ladies’ Home Journal, The Village Voice, The Daily Beast, iVillage and more. She's now a WAHM living la vida social y real from her little corner in España.

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Guest post: Empowering Breasts!

I'm really pleased to share with you an email I received from an anonymous blog reader about how she was able to use breastfeeding to reclaim her breasts and body for herself and her baby after being raped. I understand that this may be triggering for some of you, so please walk away if you cannot or should not read anything related to sexual assault. I think her message is incredibly powerful and may be just what someone else needs to hear: that it is possible to breastfeed successfully after sexual assault. If you know of any resources for women who are rape survivors and are pregnant and thinking about breastfeeding and natural labor, please leave them in the comments. 

Hi Elita,

I am one of your readers - an anonymous reader at this point. I love reading and educating myself about breastfeeding. There's one point I rarely read anything about, but which I am thankful that you in several posts have pointed out: how empowering breastfeeding can be.

About two years ago I was pregnant and scared. Scared about how I was going to be able to deal with a vaginal birth - am I going to feel powerless and violated like I did during the gang rape? Am I going to have flashbacks of the rape during internal examinations, when the birth becomes very painful, if they have to stitch me up? And if so, how am I going to deal with it? Will I be able to bond with my child? So I surfed the internet for information, wanting to read about women like me, rape survivors, who had given birth. In serveral articles, breastfeeding was mentioned too - as a potential problem. I read that survivors of sexual abuse may feel uncomfortable with the idea of breastfeeding, their bodies belonging to someone else again, their breasts being handled, with the pain that breastfeeding sometimes causes. I hadn't really thought about that before, but reading about it triggered a lot of questions. Maybe that's how I am going to feel? What if the little baby starts searching for my breast and I will feel nothing but disgust? There were only questions and no answers.

And then I gave birth and it was both a smooth birth with effective contractions and no need for pain relief and at the same time a tough birth that required vacuum extraction in the end. But I had been concentrated and calm, there had been no flashbacks and I felt strong and good about myself. The bonding with my baby was immediate. They put him on my chest and I loved him. So simple. He searched for my breast and I gave it to him, lovingly. It took us about six weeks to get the breastfeeding right and those were tough weeks filled with tears, but also with determination. But we got it right and breastfeeding became simple and natural and a pleasure for both of us (and it still is as I decided to let him wean himself when he is ready).

I never felt like the baby was taking over my body in a negative way, the way he sucked never reminded me of the rapists abusing my breasts and the rest of my body. There simply was no connection like that. Instead, I felt myself growing stronger. In fact, it felt like my body belonged to me for the first time since the rape. My body was being used for something positive and normal; I did this, I could make my son thrive and blossom.

I would have loved to read empowering stories when I was pregnant and scared. Instead I got the impression that having been sexually abused is a really legitimate reason to bottlefeed the baby from the start. Of course it is, if the woman just can't deal with breastfeeding. But it shouldn't be presented as the norm, as a logical result of sexual abuse. Breastfeeding has empowered me and I believe it can empower lots of women with lots of different backgrounds and different baggage. And also we must also ask ourselves: is the bottle the solution for a woman who has issues with her breasts? Is the bottle going to solve her problems? Is the bottle going to empower her as breastfeeding could if she gave it a chance?

No, I have not been able to find a support group either. It would be so helpful, though, because one's past affects one's parenting so much. It's not over once you have given birth. When I was pregnant, I wrote a letter to my midwife explaining my fears and she sent me to a hospital psychologist who works with women that are afraid of giving birth. It felt like the psychologist didn't understand me and the issues I have at all and that struck me as very weird - I couldn't possibly have been the first one coming to her with those worries. A c-section was immediately presented as an option and as I said that I want to give birth vaginally, but that I need support, we spoke about what exactly I'm worried about. But she didn't offer any tools on how to handle the situations should they occur. Some psychologists seem to think that you just have to name your fears and they will disappear. One of my greatest fears had been ending up having an instrumental birth - as that has a very specific connection to the rape - and as I mentioned, that's exactly what happened. I think it could have gone either way; I could also easily have experienced the birth as something very traumatic that might have affected the bonding with my child. But I had such a wonderful midwife assissting me, someone who had read my journal and who somehow seemed to know exactly what kind of support I needed. I wish all midwives, obstetricians and lactation counsellors would learn how to deal with the results of sexual abuse and rape, I wish it were part of their training. Of course it can be a relief for someone who has troubles breastfeeding to hear from someone professional that it's ok to give the baby the bottle. But that person is also saying that it's ok for the rapists to still control that woman's body. They should try to fix the underlying problem, try to find out what kind of help the woman would need to overcome her fear/disgust/phobia. It's not fair to tell her to bottlefeed and to allow her to continue to feel that way about her body. She is worth to be healed. And it's certainly not fair towards her baby either.

And returning to the idea of a support group for moms who had been raped or molested - there is no other place where you can feel as comfortable as around people who have experienced the same. I'm pregnant again and I'm wondering how things are going to turn out this time. Will the midwife assissting me at the birth be as understanding as the one I had last time? Will I be able cope with everything without suffering any flashbacks? Will it be an instrumental birth again and what would that feel like? I'm not even sure I will talk about it with someone this time. I have the feeling that they'd think: Hey, you managed well last time, what are you worried about now? Hm, who knows, I might start such a support group if one day I feel strong enough to be more open about it.



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Guest Post: Michelle Obama Talks Obesity, Breastfeeding With CBC

I wrote a guest post for the Best for Babes Boob Tube blog about the speech Michelle Obama gave yesterday to the Congressional Black Caucus. She discussed her anti-obesity campaign, Let's Move!, and again brought up the importance of breastfeeding in the black community. I'd love to hear your thoughts on Michelle's speech and my post over at Boob Tube.

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World Breastfeeding Week: My Story

I have a guest post up today at The Soul Mom's blog. If you'd like to learn a little more about me, why I started this blog and where I am in my nursing relationship with my son, check out my post.


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Guest Post: Bye Bye Breast Burka

In honor of World Breastfeeding Week, I'm pleased to present a guest post today by Leigh Anne O'Connor, IBCLC. We've been talking a lot about nursing in public lately and every day we hear about another mom being harassed for breastfeeding her baby at the Y, the park, the mall or a restaurant. When nursing is invisible, it hurts everyone. Breastfeeding mothers don't feel comfortable nursing in public and the average person begins to believe nursing is too intimate an act to be done in public and feels justified asking moms to leave. Are cover-ups the answer?

Katherine, a new mom, called me to discuss her milk supply. She was concerned with keeping up the demand of her baby. Then she asked me other breastfeeding questions. She was not sure how to nurse Sadie outside of her house. She thought it was because she needed her “special pillow.” The truth is she doesn’t know how because few women really breastfeed in public anymore.

There was an orangutan at a zoo in Boston. The zookeepers mated her and she became pregnant. Ms. Orangutan had been raised in captivity. She had not lived among sister orangutans so she did not know what to do with her baby when he was born – the baby orangutan died.

The second time around the zookeepers asked volunteers from the local chapter of La Leche League to nurse their babies in front of the primate.  When the second baby was born the primate placed her baby in her arms backwards but with some guidance from the staff quickly learned to feed and care for her baby.

This is how we learn. We observe the behavior of others. When I was pregnant with my first baby I had met a few breastfeeding mothers along the way including my sister-in-law. I took a breastfeeding class to learn as much as I could before my baby arrived.   

When Phoebe was born she was placed in my arms and we nursed for the first time for about twenty minutes. And then we nursed  - a lot. I felt awkward. I fumbled to unlatch my nursing bras, some of which were too big, some of which were too tight and one that broke. I bought dowdy nursing clothes. I wore button shirts. I still felt awkward. Phoebe was born on a hot summer day.  I am a gregarious person. I am best chatting with a group. As a new mother I felt isolated. I hungered for company.

That summer we had a few social events – a wedding, an engagement party – “showing off our baby” weekends. I noticed that wherever I went the host always had a “nice air conditioned room with a comfy chair” for me to go and nurse Phoebe. And Phoebe nursed all the time. I was even isolated in my socialization.

Sandra, my brother’s wife, had recommended attending a La Leche League meeting. The meetings had been a great resource for her as a new mom. I found the meetings helpful but even more important were the lunch dates after the meetings. Phoebe and I joined other nursing moms monthly at the Thruway Diner. We always sat at the big round table in the center of the bustling eatery. Six to ten moms and their babies smack in the middle of business suits, ties, skirts and silk blouses.

This is where I learned to nurse out and about with confidence. I watched the moms with older babies. I saw unspoken communication between them. I saw how a baby might start to wiggle a bit and like Houdini the mom had unhooked her bra, lifted her shirt and latched the baby in seconds flat. It looked effortless and it also looked like there was a baby in her arms – no breasts hanging out, no cover ups – simply a babe in arms. I wanted to be like them. I wanted to feel that assured. I wanted to look that smooth and at ease. As I expressed my envy at their mastery they all assured me that they too had been awkward. They encouraged me to nurse Phoebe in front of a mirror and I did. I grew confident in my ability to nurse Phoebe whenever she needed.  At the next social gathering Phoebe started rooting and I said to Rob, “I am going to nurse her here.” He put his arm around me and kept talking. From there I declined offers for the “air conditioned room with a comfy chair.”

I eventually became a La Leche League leader and then lactation consultant. I gave birth to two more children. I nursed them all over the place: the bus, the subway, Saks, Barnes & Noble, fancy restaurants, diners.  Usually no one except other mothers knew I was nursing. I was not hiding behind anything, just nursing my babies.

When my youngest child, Finn, was about 6 months old I was at the pediatrician’s office for a well check up. In the waiting area were two new moms discussing a new product they had just discovered – “The Hooter Hider” one of them said in an embarrassed giggle. Then I started seeing breastfeeding covers everywhere. This was the antithesis of the Thruway Diner experience. A baby begins to fuss, the mother searches her bag for the cover, the baby fusses more, the mother opens the cover, ties it around her, by now the baby is wailing, the mom fumbles with the cover and the baby, the baby kicks about, perhaps not wishing to be under a tent. Now everyone knows what is going on under the fabric.

How challenging this makes everything. Breastfeeding by its very nature is designed to be simple. We have complicated it. We have made it shameful and difficult.  Like the orangutan new moms today have no real life positive breastfeeding images.

Courtney, another new mom, asked me a question about nursing in public. 
I asked her, 

“Do you have any friends who are breastfeeding?

"Yes,” she replied. "So go hang out with them, learn from them," I offered.

“They use a cover or expressed milk in a bottle,” she answered. 

            “Go to the Thruway Diner!!!” I want to scream. But that was another time, another place.

I walk down the street and look into the windows of Victoria’s Secret, American Apparel and Abercrombie + Fitch – this is our provocative world yet we must put a tent around us to feed our babies? We flaunt our breasts to sell products. Breasts are sexy - until they become functional. Then we hide them.  

A few years ago I could spot a breastfeeding mom because I had a keen eye and I had been there. Nowadays anyone can tell a breastfeeding mom – she is the one hiding behind the overpriced piece of calico.

Leigh Anne O'Connor is a private practice lactation consultant and La Leche League Leader living in NYC with her husband, Rob, and their three children. Her other interests include acting, writing, yoga and baking. Connect and learn more about her on her website, Leighanneoconnor.com.


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Guest Post: Breastfeeding Counselor Chronicles: African-American Moms

Today I am pleased to present a guest post by Saray Hill, an IBCLC who worked with low-income African-American moms as a WIC breastfeeding counselor. Here she recounts her experiences working with the moms, shedding some light on the low breastfeeding rates in this community.

Working as a breastfeeding counselor with African-American moms in California in a disadvantaged area posed many barriers. Women had to deal with the lack of food on the table, often the absence of a partner and multiple children in the household which, in some cases, were with multiple partners. There was also an overwhelming lack of breastfeeding support among family members, friends and employers. When discussing breastfeeding with them, I frequently heard the reply, “Breast is best, but I’m not going to do it.

”

 When I questioned them further as to their reasons, answers ranged from, “I have to go back to work”, “Breasts are for my man, if my man’s sucking on them, I don’t want a baby sucking on them”,  to “I will be leaking.

”

 For many of the moms, there was even the fear of having sexual thoughts or sensations while nursing. Many sexual connotations were brought up that gave my idea of breastfeeding a whole new meaning. Also, the baby’s gender was frequently a factor in whether the baby would be breastfed. If the baby was a girl, possibly. But a boy? No way. 

Every piece of information given to these moms that contradicted their breastfeeding beliefs was not enough to change them.

After a counseling session, some of these moms would come out with a new breastfeeding mentality that would lead to them pumping their breasts and bottle-feeding the breastmilk to their babies. Even though this was a huge improvement, it still wasn’t direct breastfeeding. Remember, breastfeeding is not just about nourishment, but also about nurturing and bonding. Realistically, how would a mom be able to establish a full milk supply for her newborn by exclusively pumping and with all of the barriers they were up against? That’s right. Not very easily.

I remember a case where a mom decided to pump and bottle feed her breastmilk to her baby and, in the end, became dedicated to fully breastfeeding. However, her situation was a bit different as this was her first baby, she had a family support system and there was a partner present. But, they knew nothing about breastfeeding and didn’t identify much with it.

There were also expectant moms who were very excited about breastfeeding. It made my day whenever I met one of them. I would share resources and we would have a seemingly great connection, but I would never hear from or see them again after they left the office. Their phone would be disconnected or they wouldn’t return my phone calls. Basically, they would disappear, only to reappear a few months later after they had their baby, who was now being formula fed. When I would ask what happened, the responses I received were that it hurt when they breastfed, or the baby was crying all the time, or he/she was always hungry, or the hospital gave the baby a bottle and many more. These are sad situations as the reasons given could have been explored and prevented if I would have been able to follow up throughout their pregnancy and given them the anticipatory guidance needed to avoid these situations. Where were their OBGYNs, nurses, pediatricians and lactation consultants when this happened?

There were some truly excited moms who would breastfeed. These moms were typically younger than 25, it would be their first child and they would have a mom and family support to count on. It would not matter if the partner was involved, as long as her family approved of her decision to breastfeed her baby. Usually, somebody in her family had breastfed and recommended it. In some other cases, the baby's father was involved and wanted the baby to be breastfed.

I would sporadically encounter a mom who had breastfed her first child, but didn’t want to breastfeed this child or would breastfeed him/her for a shorter length of time. Things become increasingly more difficult when there’s more than one child in the household and a lack of a solid support system.

I met a mom who said she would not breastfeed because it was very painful with her first child. After counseling with myself and other staff members, I helped her achieve a comfortable latch. She said, “You just helped me get over my past trauma about breastfeeding...thank you, but I’m still not going to do it.

“

I believe that some of these women who refused to breastfeed were listening when we discussed the risks of artificial infant feeding, but they didn’t want to publicly admit it as they were scared to try breastfeeding. They knew it was best for their infants, but if they decided to try, who would they turn to if and when a challenge should arise? Their families either had never done it or were unsuccessful. The pediatricians? They have no time for breastfeeding problems. The breastfeeding counselors? We just weren’t available 24/7. All these factors make artificial feeding more attractive and enticing.

I believe the best way to help African American moms embrace breastfeeding is not just by educating them, but by educating their family members as well. Building a support system with breastfeeding-friendly healthcare professionals. Connecting to community members -- real people, just like them, who care about how artificial feeding is affecting the health of their youngest and future generations. These community members need to work on creating a breastfeeding family acceptance support system to encourage and support the young mothers to breastfeed and help design a more caring and humane society, from the very beginning, through bonding and nurturing. They simply can’t do it alone; it takes a village.......

Saray Hill, BS, IBCLC, RLC is the Founder/President of Mother's Utopia , an organization focused on supporting, protecting and promoting breastfeeding. She is also the creator of the only Twitter breastfeeding support party in Espanol, El Club de Lactancia.

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Guest Post: How do you know when you'll stop breastfeeding?

I'm pleased to present a guest post today by Karen Angstadt about what happens when you reach your original nursing goal, but you and your baby want to continue nursing. Did you originally think you'd breastfeed for 6 months, then go on to enjoy breastfeeding for two years or more? How did you feel, and when is the right time to stop?

When I was pregnant, I hired a doula. She was a very warm woman who knew a lot more than I did about birth and breastfeeding. She had a big impact on my breastfeeding success because she was available by phone to help with questions and even came to my house to help me correct my daughter's latch.

What was less obvious to me was how her actions impacted how I viewed breastfeeding. When we met, she was "still" breastfeeding her nearly-3 year old son. I liked everything else about her, so I didn't voice my discomfort with the idea of nursing a toddler. But I "knew" I'd never be OK with that.

My plan was to breastfeed for a year. It was a challenge, especially after going back to work when my baby girl was only 10 weeks old. But that year of breastfeeding and responding to my baby changed me. I understood in a whole new way that weaning at the one-year mark wasn't as obvious as it once appeared.

My baby girl had no sense of weeks and months. She lived in the moment. And when I was with her, especially during breastfeeding, I lived in the moment too. It was time away from deadlines and hurry. It was a comfort for both of us to reconnect and cuddle.

So when her first birthday arrived, it just didn't make sense to stop. We were connected and both our needs were being met. We continued through toddlerhood until past the midpoint of my next pregnancy, when she told me the milk "tasted funny" and I had been encouraging weaning due to breast tenderness. We agreed when the baby arrived and the milk returned she could nurse again.

She is now five and her sister nearly three. Little sister is still nursing two times daily, and appears to have no interest in stopping soon. Big sister will occasionally ask to nurse alongside her sister, and although I understand in a way that I never thought I would, my old prejudices about age still sometimes creep in at these moments.

Do I let her? Sometimes. Either way, I do my best not to let my old way of thinking, since proven incorrect, be the leading voice in the decision. 

Karen Angstadt is a birth mentor, wise woman and mother of two. Karen is the founder of Intentional Birth  and the host of A Labor of Love radio show on VoiceAmerica. 








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Guest Post: Have Breastfed Baby, Will Travel

I'm pleased to present a guest post today by Corinne, a mom of two who writes about traveling with kids on her blog. This post is about her experiences traveling with a breastfed baby.

We didn’t take our first trip with our daughter until she was no longer nursing. It was my decision to wait. Lovingly nicknamed “The Dairy Queen” by my husband, my already well-endowed chest doubled in size while breastfeeding and I wasn’t certain that there was a swimsuit known to man that could contain me. Truthfully though, I wasn’t keen on bustin’ out all over the beach when I was already dealing with body issues as a new mother.  So, in addition to our already stuffed suitcases, I added a few cans of formula and figured out how to sterilize bottles in a hotel room.

Fast forward a little over 3 years and we’ve added a bouncing baby boy to our mix.  This time I was simply too in need to get away to care. By 8mos, my son had been on 4 trips – the first two when he was exclusively nursing – and boy did I learn how little work it is when you’re breastfeeding and traveling. 

Our first adventure as a family of four was an extended long weekend in Quebec City.  At 10.5 weeks, my son was sleeping good stretches of at least 8 hours at night (we’re so lucky, I know) and a pretty contented little guy.  We were *almost* in a routine of feeding every 3-4 hours, so we were able to be out and about, and I just needed to find a quiet place to sit when it came time to nurse.  One time he fussed in a restaurant and I nursed at the table - no one blinked an eye.

Next was a cottage resort a month later... This time there was a beach involved (albeit a lake) but it’s safe to say that motherhood the second time around leaves you precious little time to worry about things like body issues when you’ve a baby to cuddle and a preschooler to admire when she’s swimming with her daddy.  Have I looked better in a swimsuit? Yes. Did I really care? Not particularly.

By the time we visited Gramps in Florida, the baby had just started solids, and I was pumping milk to mix in his cereal and to thin his veggies.  Aside from the odd good natured grimace from my father-in-law about breast milk in his fridge (and the requisite jokes about pouring it in his coffee), I still had no bottles and nipples to sterilize.  In fact, in the shade of our beach umbrella, with the sand in my toes and sea breeze in our hair, I had a moment of pure bliss as I nursed my little sand crab.

That same bliss happened a lot more frequently on our last trip, which was to an All-Inclusive beach resort in the Caribbean. I figured we’d go back to our room to nurse and for naps, but we didn’t bother.  While his sister frolicked with her dad in the turquoise water, my roly poly beach baby would breastfeed under our palapa, before having the naps of his life in his stroller.  At 8mos, he was onto table foods and sippy cups of water, but this time around I didn’t even have the pump to worry about. 

With so many reports of families being kicked off airplanes, or shamed in stores, I’m delighted to report that we experienced nary a stink eye as my son nursed in airports, on airplanes, in restaurants, in parks, on the beach, or by the pool. Now, as our well-traveled 2^nd born approaches his first birthday, I can’t believe how much more I’ve learned about traveling with babies.  I never would have believed it with my first, but the younger the baby, the easier to travel with – especially a breastfed one. 

Corinne McDermott is the founder of Have Baby Will Travel – your guide to family travel with babies, toddlers and young children.  Connect with her at http://www.havebabywilltravel.com/ or www.twitter.com/hvbabywilltrvl

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Guest Post: So that's what they're for!

I'm pleased to present a guest post today by Kia, a mom-to-be who plans to breastfeed, and is learning to embrace her breasts for the first time.

My bewbies magically appeared between the ages of 12 and 13.  I had little ant hills before then but they blossomed into a B-cup almost overnight.  I was a complete tomboy at the time and was massively embarrassed by them.  They made playing volleyball and basketball a little awkward until I learned about the harnessing power of the uniboob sport bra.  That only worked at practice though.  When I would re-emerge into the real world I had other issues to be concerned about.

If I ever wore a form-fitting shirt I was suddenly getting male attention, and sadly a lot of time from people that were older than me.  I began to hunch my shoulders as habit but my breasts were still there.  The unwanted male attention was still there. It was icky in my mind but I dealt with it.

I dealt with it into my adulthood.  My breasts have always been a perky B-cup that have flattered my silhouette, even as I gained weight in the last few years.  It is only in pregnancy that I am beginning to appreciate them.  Before now I hated that they were only a secondary sexual characteristic that men have wanted to fondle or do goodness knows what with.  When people would get too forward at a club and catch me in a bad mood I would usually snap that they were just mounds of fat and to get over it.

When I found my husband I was relieved to learn he was a booty man and never made a big deal about them.  He liked and complimented them after we had been going out for a while, but they did not entice him in creepy ways like they had others in my past.  It was a nice reassurance in a weird way.  Then in my 7th week of pregnancy they swelled to a D-cup and he shyly admitted a new admiration for them.  He was respectful though because he knows how I have felt about them in my past.

This is the past though.  I am now 29 weeks pregnant.  They are still a D, waiting to expand again before I give birth or after when I am engorged to deliver milk.  I love them now.  Aesthetically they are a little big for my taste, but they harness an unbelievable gift in my mind.  I will be able to nourish a child with them.  As a mammal I will be able to use my mammaries for their intended purpose.  The purpose that puts me in the same category with many other animals and humans the world over.  The purpose to feed a life after I deliver.

There has been some prolonged staring at them, even by well-meaning friends who are caught holding a glance too long.  I am now able to laugh it off because there is a higher purpose than a secondary-sexual trait.  I am not shy to wear a form fitting top or dress because I am pregnant and beautiful.  I think with pregnancy comes an honesty and disregard for the silliness of others.

For me at this stage in my pregnancy I am reading breastfeeding books, participating with online breastfeeding forums, planning to attend my first La Leche League meeting later this month, and prepping supplies at home for when baby gets here.  I am preparing as much as I can.  My only wish at this point is that my body does what it needs to do to feed my baby, and that the baby is able to be fed.  There are no guarantees that it always works out for mom and babe, but I am approaching the nursing stage with an appreciative optimism for the two mounds of fat resting on my chest.


Kia is eagerly expecting her first baby in June.  She makes her home in Colorado and spends her time working on behalf of natural resources, teaching yoga, and taking pictures.  You can read more of her writing at her Bodhi Bear blog.



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Guest post: To Breastfeed Or Not To Breastfeed?

I’m pleased to present a guest post today by Jenn who blogs about her path to motherhood at Baby Makin’ Machine. The Future Mama, as she’s known on Twitter, is famous for asking tons of questions about being a mom. From cloth diapers to co-sleeping, Jenn wants to learn about it all! Here are her thoughts on breastfeeding, from the perspective of a mom-to-be.







Breastfeeding… If there’s one thing I’ve learned about it in the last year of my life is that it’s a hot topic among mothers. I didn’t understand why at first. Some women do, some don’t… who cares what your neighbor does as long as you do what you feel comfortable with. But I’ve learned that women do hear from their neighbors, on both sides. Some say it’s wrong to breast feed in public, to breastfeed after your baby has teeth. Others say you don’t love your baby if you don’t breastfeed. All of the animosity between mothers first turned me off to learning more about it.

“I wasn’t breastfed, I turned out ok.” That was initially how I thought about breastfeeding. I’d try it, and if it worked out I’d keep doing it as long as it worked out.

Now I’m pregnant. In 8 months or so I’ll have my own little baby in my arms and the decision of whether or not I am going to breastfeed will be staring me in the face. There are lots of things I love about the idea. I love the idea of being able to feed my baby on the go, and not needing to pack bottles. I think this will make traveling while my baby is young nice and easy. Of course, I know it’s healthier for my baby, and it will help my baby to be healthy and strong. The idea that breastfeeding can also help you to lose pregnancy weight doesn’t sound so bad either.

But there are a few concerns or worries I have about it too. I worry about having the time and capability to breastfeed while I’m also working close to 50 hours a week. I know I can do it with time and patience, but I also don’t want to stress myself out about it. I want to be able to breastfeed comfortably. I know some women don’t mind popping their boob out in public and more power to them. But for me to be comfortable, I’d like to find a way to keep my ladies covered, while also keeping my baby comfortable and full.

I know breastfeeding your baby for a year is ideal but I also know it doesn’t work that well for everyone. I’ve seen babies who weren’t breastfed never get sick, and others the same age who were who seem to always be sick.

I have a lot to learn. Not so much in the aspect of “why breastfeed” but HOW I can do it, enjoy it, and keep it up with my crazy life schedule. I know everyone and every situation is different, but my hope is to learn a lot over the next 8 months, try my best, and do my best to respect everyone’s decision, while hoping people will do the same for me.

How about it, readers? Do you have any advice for Jenn on how to make breastfeeding work with a hectic schedule?

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Guest Post: Tina on Breastfeeding in the NICU

I'm pleased to share a guest post today by Tina, a Southern California mom of a toddler and identical twin boys who are now 6 months old. Tina's post is about her experience breastfeeding while her twins were in the NICU.

I am the mother of three amazing boys. My oldest is 3.5 and my twins are just about to turn 6 months. Having breastfed my oldest son until he was 22 months, one of my major concerns when I found out I was pregnant with monoamniotic monochorionic (momo) twins was if I was going to be able to breastfeed them. Momo twins develop in the same sac without a separating membrane and are at risk for health complications due to the close proximity of their umbilical cords to the amniotic sac. Due to the high risk nature of the pregnancy, it is recommended for the health of the babies that they are delivered no later than 32 weeks. Facing an inevitable NICU stay, I studied up on how to develop and foster a breastfeeding relationship. Although it was one of my major concerns, amazingly, it is the one thing they had no problems with.

Fourteen hours after birth, I started pumping with a hospital grade breast pump. I got very little at first, but I wanted to condition my body to be prepared to feed two newborns. I pumped every 2 hours consistently. It was a pretty easy schedule to keep up in the hospital, but once I got home and was traveling back and forth it became more difficult. I occasionally pumped there, but also used the opportunity to stretch the time between my pumping sessions when necessary to 3 hours. The day I was discharged, five days after birth, my milk came in. I continued with the pumping every two hours, with the occasional 3-hour stretch. I was startled to pump 12 ounces in one sitting, so I started measuring to figure out how much I pumped in a 24-hour period. Twenty-three days after birth I pumped around 55 -60 oz a day. That's A LOT! I was very concerned about the amount because I read that you needed to pump 24 - 32 ounces for a singleton. I thought, "There is no way I can do that!" I was thrilled to learn I was doing that times two!

So, since my babies have been able to feed they have received my breast milk, whether in a bottle or directly from the breast. Now, for the latching onto the breast. I was actually very concerned about the boys receiving a bottle or pacifier. Everything I read said those are big no-nos if you want to have a successful breastfeeding relationship. The NICU was not willing to let them feed solely at the breast. I was initially very upset and then I realized I would do what it takes to get them out of the NICU and would work on feeding at the breast once they got home.
Little did I know how few problems we would encounter.

As for the actual "latch on" I wish I had suggestions. I used what I learned as a previous breastfeeding momma and doula training to position and offer the breast properly. That was really key for the boys. Then I wanted to make it as easy as possible. I initially pumped through a let-down and then offered the breast. After they appeared to get the hang of that I would do a little hand expression because they would initially get frustrated that they were working so hard and not getting much, so the expression allowed a little instant gratification.

I did have one problem that could have been a major one. I had a clogged duct that quickly turned into mastitis. I had a fever, the chills, the whole nine yards. It came on suddenly. I took a hot shower and massaged the affected breast. I continued to pump, drink water, rest, and put warm compresses on the breast. After 10 hours my fever went down dramatically so I decided to not go to the doctor and continue to rest and by 20 hours I was back to normal. The problem was I tried to stretch my pumping out to every four hours. Not such a good idea. I immediately returned back to the 2-3 hour routine. Now six months later, I continue to exclusively breastfeed. I started the boys on solids just shy of their 6 month birthday. I am so proud of my freezer full of milk that I had to share.


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