Sometimes it seems to me that the overwhelming part of modern motherhood is lived under the slogan “If you’re not exhausted, you’re not a mother.” The pressure begins the moment you register at the prenatal clinic and will probably continue until retirement. I’m sure there are wonderful places and wonderful people—I’ve been fortunate to encounter some—but overall, things aren’t all that rosy.
My district gynecologist, who oversaw my first two pregnancies, was a prime example of a nightmare for a first-time mother. “Got knocked up?” she asked me sternly during my first visit in my first pregnancy. “What date should I book your abortion for?” was the first thing I heard from her the second time. Nowadays, I would probably set clear boundaries, or maybe I’d still be caught off guard, mumbling something like, “We were planning…”
The story of my pregnancy care deserves its own separate account, especially now that I have experience in both Minsk and Cyprus. But that’s not the topic for today.
Today, it’s about breastfeeding. Let’s start with a few facts. It’s well known that for many thousands of years, breastfeeding was practically the only way to feed a baby. If the mother couldn’t breastfeed, they would find a wet nurse; at worst, diluted cow or goat milk was used, though it was far from today’s adapted formulas. For many years, medicine was at such a level that maternal and infant mortality rates were sky-high, and the lack of breastfeeding was an additional factor in mortality. Things changed during World War II. It wasn’t even about the formula but about the fact that women became the primary workforce. Before the war, posters encouraged women to prepare their nipples for breastfeeding and explained that breast milk was the best and only food for a baby up to six months. After the war, maternity leave was cut to three months. Women were expected to fill the jobs of the men who had died or been wounded, not to feed babies. New rules for introducing solid foods were established. Babies started eating solid foods from one month old, and everything was geared toward ensuring that by the time the child was three months old and in daycare, they would eat semolina and not fuss.
Thankfully, times change. Maternity leaves have increased, and nutritional standards have shifted again. Right around the time I had my first child, someone had the great idea to promote breastfeeding. I think it’s a wonderful idea. But we always struggle with implementation. There is no choice. Whether you want to or not, you have to breastfeed. And so, I gave birth to my eldest daughter. A huge poster at the maternity hospital showed a cute baby sucking on a mother’s breast, with a sign on the wall saying, “Our maternity hospital is the first to support breastfeeding.” Something else about the UN and UNICEF was written there too. From my experience, I would add that the hospital is anything but supportive of those who don’t breastfeed.
It so happened that we spent 10 days in the hospital. I gave birth at night. I’m one of those lucky women who give birth physically easily (except for my sixth delivery). That same night, they handed me the baby. In the morning, a delegation came to explain breastfeeding. They showed me how to latch the baby and told me to feed with colostrum. Except there wasn’t any. “That’s impossible!” declared the delegation. “Just wait, the milk will come soon! Life will take on new colors.” And they were right. Life did take on new colors…
Besides the slogans, the setup for breastfeeding support is awful. No one helps with expressing milk, which is important for first-time mothers without experience. They don’t show different ways to position the baby to ensure they extract milk from different parts of the breast, especially if there’s discomfort. They don’t teach what to do if the latch is wrong, if nipples aren’t the right shape, or if the baby sucks so hard that the nipples start to bleed.
They are pro-breastfeeding, but beyond that, you’re on your own.
My baby screamed her head off; she was clearly hungry. No one believed that there might not be enough milk. Instead, I was bombarded with slogans about its benefits, advantages, and how wonderful it was. No one wanted to hear that the baby needed formula. Then they started speculating that I had pumped and dumped the milk. After some shuffling around the hospital floors, a bit of humiliation, a commission that felt my breasts and tried to express milk, weighing the baby before and after feeding, the red note “child prescribed formula supplementation” appeared in my medical record.
I won’t go into the details, but the mixed feeding saga ended after a month. A similar story happened the second time around, only this time with a paid consultant who said, “Just lie down and breastfeed around the clock, and send this one (pointing to my 2.5-year-old daughter) to someone else for a while.” By that time, I had toughened up a bit and threw the consultant out. I stopped breastfeeding exactly a month after giving birth, weighing the baby at the clinic.
Breastfeeding is incredibly beneficial, and breast milk is the most adapted food for a baby. And you don’t need to wash, boil, heat, or cool anything… But it has to be organized, well-organized. Ideally, there should be either a lactation consultant or a midwife in the maternity hospital who specifically deals with this issue. And without fanaticism.
Fanaticism is the next thing that came with the popularization of breastfeeding. Numerous online groups appeared that didn’t just promote the idea but shamed those who couldn’t breastfeed. In some cases, the radicalism of opinions was off the charts. Formula-fed babies were practically labeled as fools. They were predicted to do poorly in school, get sick often, and lack attachment to their mothers. As for the mother—well, she’s not really a mother. I’m not exaggerating; I’ve come across opinions saying such mothers should be stripped of their parental rights, and that if you didn’t want to breastfeed, you shouldn’t have had children. The fanaticism has died down a bit now, but the pressure remains. Many women who can’t breastfeed feel guilty toward both their children and society.
I thought it had quieted down a bit, but now in Russia, the State Duma is considering bills to restrict formula advertising and make it available only by prescription. So, more battles lie ahead.
