My Two Boos

If you're not interested in the ins and outs of my tandem nursing experience, this post is probably not for you.  And I'm not sure how many readers that will leave--but I'm compelled to write about it not just because it helps me make sense of it all, but also in case I may help some other mother out there doing the same thing by sharing my story.  Amazingly, I've met three other mothers in my little area who told me they tandem nursed too.  So although tandem nursing may not be as uncommon as I think, it is definitely hidden and not talked about much.  Sometimes, I'd love to hear of another mother's journey, and get some compassionate support, so that's why I share mine.

I'll admit it, I'm finding tandem nursing hard.  I'm even beginning to think about weaning, suspecting that I will reach my quitting point before Boodge reaches his.  I'm not sure when that will be, though.  I'm not enjoying nursing him anymore, most times.  It must be something about contrasting it with the sweet, sacred-feeling of nursing a little baby.  Boodge seems too big and insistent, his cold, sticky hands twitch and flick an pinch at my skin, he wiggles all around, yanking my breast in his toddler sized vaccuum-suck.  It bugs me. I set limits (stop flicking! leave my belly button alone! don't squish it!), and then take him off the breast when he transgresses.  Sometimes, he melts down when I say we're done, or I don't want to.  Our nursing relationships has taken a sad turn, and I'm not sure where to go with it anymore.  To complicate things, often when he does get his chance to have some, it is cut short by his sister crying and needing Mommy, or by my own irritation.

Online, I found other tandem-nursing mothers on forums discussing some of the same conflicted feelings I have--disliking nursing their toddler, but realizing how much it still means to the toddler to continue.  I also was reminded of my reasons for doing it--to ease the transition to siblinghood for Boodge, and hopefully promote bonding between siblings.  But is it doing that? If I can't hide from Boodge that I often dislike nursing him but love nursing his sister, to the point where I wean him...how will that affect sibling rivalry, and the transition. 

I realized that the approach I've been taken lately, limiting Boodge to a specific number of "boo" times a day and not usually letting him nurse with his sister (because I nurse her first, then give Boodge the "leftovers"), was working against my intentions.  It was making him feel jealous of his sister, who gets it whenever, wherever she wants, plus interrupts his sessions, and it was not giving them the cuddle time that makes them appreciate each other.  So I stopped emphasizing the number of times, just saying no or yes depending on the situation, and tried to say yes when he wanted to nurse with his sister.  This has actually made things a bit better, and he is not nursing any more often, really.  I've also talked to him, in calm moments, about how when I say no or that's enough "boo", I need him to respect it, not freak out unnecessarily.  "It's my body, and I'm sharing it with you, but you need to respect it when I say no."  An important lesson to learn, anyway, hopefully one he will absorb if I can "play" it right.

So, I'm staying the course, though conflicted.  There are practical considerations too, like, am I prepared to give up Boodge's naptime, which may not happen without a boo-down, and am I prepared to be strong and loving and sad and torn and all that will likely come with weaning Boodge, for however long it takes.  No, and no.  I'm not ready to take on those changes. It's still a mix of good and bad--as this little story from yesterday may illustrate.

It was naptime, and I had tried to time it so Peanut would nap and nurse with Boodge. Unsucessfully, because she fell asleep in my arms before he was ready, and then woke up when Boodge and I disturbed her with our nap preparations.  She was hungry too, and promptly started freaking out in a way she rarely does.  I tried to nurse her, but it only made her more angry.  Boodge, who I had brought to his room with a promise of "night night boo", was patient at first, but waiting to nurse started to get to him and he got in the game with his own freak out.  So they were both screaming, and I was getting through it by saying loudly, "It's OK, we're gonna figure it out, don't worry." (Incidentally, I was surprised how well that worked to calm both me and Boodge. Try it next time you're ready to lose your shit.) Finally, I did figure out that Peanut would be happy to nurse on the left side, thank you very much, just not the right (fuller) side like you were offering, Mama.  I quickly reconfigured pillows and props, got them both latched on, and leaned back. Whew. "That was hard," I whispered, to myself and my babies.

We all started to relax and soon Peanut was asleep.  Boodge, halfway asleep himself, reached across my chest and played with her little fingers, holding one in his grip.  I explained to him, before Peanut was born, that she would grip his finger in her hand like that if he offered it to her. He never quite got it...he always grips her finger instead.  Then he reached out to hold her whole hand in his, pulled it to the center of my chest and held it there.  He drifted off like this, and I was there with tears in my eyes, melting at the sweetness of my two dear hearts.  See how it's not simple? 

So, time will tell where, when, and how this journey ends. In some ways, it's helpful just to be thinking about weaning, too, and talking to Boodge about the idea that he will not always nurse.  I'm curious to know how other mothers have weaned their children in a similar situation, where the child is still very much attached to it but the mom is feeling done.  Is there a gentle way, or an easy way?  I'm open to your wisdom...please share. 


   

Normalizing the Normal--Happy World Breastfeeding Week

Many times I have sat down to write about breastfeeding, but it has never evolved into a complete post. There is just so much to say about it, and it seems so loaded sometimes that it’s hard for me to narrow it down. But a friend on Facebook brought to my attention that it’s “World Breastfeeding Week” from August 1-7, so it seems like a good time to break the seal.

The other day I was nursing the Boodge in the park when an older lady and her aide walked by. The lady looked down at us with a serious face, her expression masked by big sunglasses and a hat.

“When I had my babies, we were’t allowed to do that.” She stated. Her accent was thick Austrian, like that of an 80’s movie villain. I felt my sensors go on alert, but waited to see where she would go next. “We couldn’t show our breast. We had to cover it all up, we couldn’t breastfeed our babies in public like that.” Her voice was angry, but I sensed it wasn’t at me.

I nodded and said, “That’s too bad.”

“Yes. It makes me angry. Because we had to hide it. It was Vienna, they were very strict. And I nursed my children for 11 months.”

“Good for you.”

“Yes, but so when I see this, I feel angry. I like it, but I am angry because I couldn’t do it.”

“I don’t blame you. It’s not good for Mothers or babies.”

She nodded and bid me a nice day and moved on, her aide looking awkward and embarrassed by her side, especially since the Boodge had pulled off with all the commotion and, horror of horrors, left my breast exposed for a few seconds. But I was glad she had stopped to share her experience. And I was glad that she got angry about it, because if women like her hadn’t gotten angry about it and spoken up, I wouldn’t be nearly as comfortable sitting in the park breastfeeding my baby.

The experience helped me realize why it’s so important for me to support breastfeeding. But whenever I sit down to write about it, I want to make sure that I don’t suggest that I think women who give formula to their babies or stop nursing earlier are somehow not as good mothers as those who breastfeed long-term. One thing I can’t stand is the “Mommy Wars” concept that pits women and parents against each other for the parenting choices they make. I have never felt more part of a supportive community and a sisterhood than since I became a parent, and I am not here to knock that community down, but to try to strengthen it. As Arwyn at “Raising my Boychick” put it so beautifully, “No-one can know the balance of a mother’s decisions.” (I'd like to send you to the exact post, but her blog is so good I got lost in it and read about 15 posts....so just go check it out.)

I know there are a lot of reasons why a mother may decide not to nurse her baby, and they usually come from the situation somehow being intolerable or uncomfortable and inconvenient for the mother and/or the baby. Fair enough, I say. If I had to limit my diet due to a baby with food allergies, if I felt pain while nursing, if my body had been violated or disrespected by someone in the past, if I had to pump under pressure in a bathroom stall because I was working full time, or was being repeatedly bitten by my baby or on and on….my feelings about nursing may be different. It’s the "balance of decisions" we must all make to keep ourselves peaceful inside, able to respond to our children lovingly and without resentment.

So when I say I support breastfeeding, it has nothing to do with not supporting other mothers' choices. It has to do with normalizing the normal. I want people to be as comfortable seeing a baby or toddler nursing as they are seeing them take a bottle. It has to do with getting to a place where a woman who wants to breastfeed for as long as the baby and she are happy with it is totally supported in that, and the community welcomes it. It has to do with making nursing as convenient and comfortable as possible for the mother and baby. Because I believe that often breastfeeding becomes intensely uncomfortable and inconvenient for the mother because of the way it is regarded and attended to in our culture.

I feel lucky that I’ve had a great experience breastfeeding and a very supportive circle in which to do it. But since the Boodge has turned one I am frequently asked how long I plan to nurse, and I know what’s behind the question. People often find it strange to nurse children into and beyond toddlerhood. It’s hard to dispute all the research that says nursing, and for as long as possible, is good for children. So why is it such a difficult topic? I think that the two main confusions in our culture that lead to this attitude are confusion about sexuality, and about independence.

Our breasts make others, and often ourselves, uncomfortable. We have such a media and religion-warped view our sexuality, we can’t seem to separate the breast from its sexual role when a child is nursing. I think that is what really throws people for a loop, and why why so many people draw the line at “when they can walk up to you and ask for it.”

When I nurse in public, I am conscious that some people may find something sexual in it—and that makes me hesitate in certain situations. It makes me uncomfortable exposing my breast. People comment on how my son is a “boob man” and how “this is how it starts with men, huh”. I know they're joking, and I laugh. But I'm also aware that they can’t help but see sexuality because I am using a part of my body that is so perversely coveted and objectified in our culture’s sexual imagination.

It has nothing to do with the Boodge being a man-child that he likes nursing so much. It has to do with nourishment, nurture, comfort, closeness, soothing. It has to do with what comes naturally to him and feels good. It has to do with love and physical connection between a mother and a child. When I nurse the Boodge, we slow down and are both relaxed. I get to stroke his head and play with his little feet and show him my love in a physical way, and he is calmed and happy after. It is no different from snuggling with your child while he drinks some hot cocoa. Why should we be in any rush to give up this amazing thing we have?

The other big worry about breastfeeding toddlers seems to be our culture’s focus on “independence”. This was highlighted to me by a woman I met at the playground, who somewhat sheepishly admitted she was still nursing her 13 month old. When I supported her, she talked more, and told me that some members of her family had suggested that it was selfish to do this because “what if I died, and then no-one else could feed her.” It was hilarious and ludicrous. As if this poor little girl wouldn’t have much more to worry about if her mother died than where to get milk. I mean, she can eat and drink, right?

I think people confuse freedom and independence. I’m all for freedom, with responsibility and respect of individual differences in exercising that freedom (without harming others). But really, would we want to be completely “independent”? Where would we get our food? Who would we talk to at the end of the day? How would we create and raise new people? What would the work we do contribute to, except our own lonely survival?

We are interdependent, and we are better off that way. And babies are dependent on their parents. Of course ultimately we want them to be able to survive and thrive without needing us so much. Stopping nursing early has nothing to do with that process, because no matter what, our young kids need us to provide food to them and even help them eat it for a long time. It seems that there is some uneasiness about letting the bond of closeness that nursing brings continue into toddlerhood, as if it will turn our children into eternal infants or something. But I just find that sad, and so wrong. Nursing is one way to help your child feel soothed, secure, and loved. Can’t that only contribute to them feeling ready to explore and individuate themselves in the world, become independent from a place of deep security?

The current issue of Mothering Magazine includes a fabulous article about a woman’s experience nursing in Mongolia, where breastfeeding is embraced and children commonly nurse until 4 years old or whenever they lose interest. I laughed reading about how mothers, grandmothers, and even grandfathers can always succeed in distracting toddlers from disputes about sharing by waving their breast around and saying “Baby, look what I got for you!” It reminded me of the funny things I’ve experienced nursing a toddler, the way he jumps on to the breast with an excited laugh, or in a downward dog position while hopping from foot to foot, breast to breast, occasionally doing backflips in between changes.

Nursing makes me laugh. It makes me be still. It fills me with love for my child. It fills me with wonder and respect for my body. I want to live in a place like Mongolia, where I can feel comfortable nursing the Boodge in public while he does his boob hopping routine. I want all women who are trying to nurse their babes to get supportive comments rather than inquiries about how long it will go on or jokes about boob men. I want them to get mentorship from other women, to get to nurse or pump at their workplaces, to feel that everyone around them is comfortable and respectful when seeing their breast doing its job so there’s no need to hide in a lonely room to nurse or forbid their babies to latch on.

Happy World Breastfeeding Week everyone. Let’s keep normalizing the normal, and I'm sure we'll end up OK. It's that simple.