Breastfeeding was one of the highlights of my first weeks of motherhood. The decision to stop nursing Tenzin at three months was torturous, but I made it for two reasons. I was back on the road speaking at colleges and taking various meetings out of state (working, in other words) and pumping wasn't feasible. And I was on anti-depressants and decided to limit my son's exposure to the drug.
Intellectually I knew the transition would be difficult, but I was totally unprepared for the emotional blow-back. It was so intense that when I stopped and began buying huge cans of Enfamil adorned with gold foil announcing its DHA content, I was haunted by an overwhelming sadness.
Sadness because I had more milk than any other mother in the ICU when my son was born, and it seemed like such a waste of my body's desire to provide sustenance. Sadness because even though it was awkward and difficult at times to get my son comfortably "latched on," I felt more connected to him at those moments than I can express in words.
Which is why when I saw the story about the Chinese police officer who nursed nine babies orphaned or otherwise disconnected from their mothers in the earthquake, I cried. The moment was charged because I still feel, looking at my healthy and beautiful son, that I, too, have more milk to give. That I know exactly what the officer meant when she said it felt completely natural to pick those babies up--babies who had no food, no mothers--and feed them.
The level of empathy I felt for the officer, the babies, and the moms dead and alive, made me think about the importance of milk banks, and what an amazing gift the milk of another can be. It also made me reflect on my decision to use formula for Tenzin and not breastmilk from a bank. I remember being disturbed by the idea of another mother nursing my child. It made me think of wet-nurses, "mammys," and indentured servants forced to feed the children of others.
But it also made me anxious about my role as a mother, and the effect another mother's milk might have on my son. I was so insecure about my motherhood, I worried milk from a bank would make him less "mine."
I wish I knew then what I know now--the bond between parent and child transcends time, place, and even breastmilk. It's indestructible.
In other words, while it may be important, the milk isn't the thing.
Love is.
And milk banks rock!
I know it's still a bit taboo to talk about breastfeeding publicly, but I'd love to hear your experiences. Breastfeeding can be tough, and hearing from other moms goes a long way when you're feeling frustrated. Any moms out there who have donated milk, or made withdrawals?
