Is Breast Best?

When I was pregnant with Jordan, I went to a local La Leche League Chapter Meeting. The organization had been a great support to my Mom and she suggested I give it a try. Overall, it wasn't a bad experience. I met a few nice people, but I was completely unprepared for the very disturbing experience I witnessed just before the close of the meeting. A woman sitting across from me in the semicircle of nursing and soon to be nursing Moms had an older child with her, probably four or five. I can't be sure of his age, but I am sure that he was potty trained, and speaking in complete sentences. I watched as he darted over to his Mom, and asked if he could have a snack. She nodded sweetly. Then, I watched in horror as the little boy lifted his mother's shirt, exposed her bare breast to the entire room, and nursed happily away for a moment or too. When he'd satisfied his need for snacking, he went back to his toys in the corner.

I can't decide if I was more disturbed by the little boy's ease in helping himself, or in the mother's ease in going without a bra to facilitate such an action. Alas, it was her kid, her boob, and her choice, and though I found it a little unnerving, in the end, to each her own.

I did not, however, go back to La Leche League. Fortunately for me, I still had a great experience nursing Jordan. I cried my way through three weeks of pain and discomfort, bleeding, cracking and complete misery, and then, everything got easier. Jordan nursed for thirteen months.

For me, I had always known I wanted to nurse my babies. As it often does, tradition played a big part in that decision. My mother was a nursing Mom and since most of what I ever learned about motherhood came from her, it was natural for me to do the same thing. It was cheap, convenient, and for me, it worked.

When it was time to start nursing the twins, I can't say I wasn't a little bit overwhelmed. Double time milk production is a tall order, but I managed to pull that off as well, though not always without a little bit of help. I worked my hardest to produce enough milk for two babies, but as luck and nature would have it, I was often a few mammary glands short of a full feeding. So I supplemented with formula when necessary and felt no failure in doing so. A baby's got to eat, you know? I made it nine months with the twins before my exhausted and deflated dairy bar called it quits all together.

With Henry, he nursed like a champ from the get go, we had a great experience and the kid never tasted a drop of formula. I hope, with baby number five, things go as smoothly.

So why the breasty history?

You always read about all the angst... the breastfeeders versus bottlefeeders... the judgement, the criticism of those who make choices different than your own. The topic will garnish full page spreads in magazines and be a subject of discussion on talk and morning news shows.

And yet, I've never experienced it. I have friends that breastfeed. I think it's a great thing that if you can do, you should do. But I also have friends that use formula. Maybe nursing didn't work for them, or maybe for reasons that have nothing to do with me, they decided not to nurse. And you know what, they still have great kids.

Maybe I've lived a sheltered existence and simply haven't been exposed to the armies of angry, defensive woman who thrust their breasts and bottles forward in an effort to take a stand, or maybe the entire conflict is an imagined creation that we've all heard about but never seen. Don't get me wrong. I know and expect differences of opinion. We all make choices based on what's best for us and those decisions won't always be the same. But I don't get all the harsh hatred. Does it really exist?

You tell me. Have you ever felt judged or criticized for the choices you made about how to feed your baby?