Thursday, June 27, 2013

Breastfeeding and Big Brother

Als das Freibad aufkam. Zeichnung von Heinrich Zille{{PD-1923}}
Recently a friend with 4 school-aged children and a baby on the way mentioned that she was struggling with how to approach breastfeeding this time, what with sons approaching puberty. She said she was leaning toward not doing it around them in order to avoid awkward encounters. "I think it's better if they just don't know too much about it," she said.

As I said to her in that moment, I strongly disagree.

I really can't imagine a more perfect time for them to be exposed (pun definitely intended) to the mother-baby feeding relationship. And no better person or situation to expose them.

Breasts are sexual. You don't want your sons all up in your areola trying to see what's going on there. I get it. But that is not the whole story. There is a whole history and culture and way of knowing involved here. And a lot of the story isn't so great. My friend has an opportunity to re-write the story.

We already have an insidious problem with the objectification and sexualization of women up in here. Boobs rank quite high when it comes to objectification and sexualization among us. Boobs are a huge turn on. Admit it, even the most hetero of you ladies out there can't help but sneak a peak at a prominently displayed rack. But it's not about sex. It's about some primeval force inside us that beckons---milk and honey, kids, milk and honey.

For men of course, slightly different.  But I believe that deep down, their natural reaction is more milk and honey than it is nipple clamps and handfuls. It is only our cultural imprinting and experience concerning the nature of women's bodies and what it means to be a woman that makes boobs sell beer.

If you want your son to think for himself, talk to him about breastfeeding. If you want your son to think of women they are attracted to as people, not sexualizing your own breasts will help. If you don't want your sons to buy beer or cars, toothbrushes, insurance, coffee, or sex because of some woman's cleavage, breastfeed in front of your sons no matter what their age. If you could prevent your 14 year old son from buying just one bottle of axe body spray through early exposure to a suckling babe, you know you'd do it.

Boobs are things most of the world has. Women have boobs. Your mama has 'em, your sister has 'em, your grandma has 'em, your teachers have 'em, the cop who pulled you over has 'em. And what is the point of them? It is not to attract men. It is to feed babies. That is why they are attractive to men. (Men have never understood that the milk making parts are the same on all of us and it's only the amount of fat that differs. Ah-ha!, look at that! She could probably breastfeed triplets! Let's see what she thinks of my manliness...)

But somewhere along the way we lost sight of this seemingly obvious and important connection. Maybe it was when we stopped breastfeeding. They became solely a man's pleasure and many men became possessive, withdrawing support for breastfeeding their own children. After all, look at those Jane Austen dresses. Those girls were about to spill right over the top while dancing the allamande. But boobs were sweet and womanly back then, not explicit. (It was ankles you didn't dare show.) Despite the utopian nature of the chubby, gleeful people in the unusual picture above, you needn't parade around topless or be purposefully revealing. Just feed your baby as you would if it was just your partner there. Answer their questions. Explain it simply, as if it was totally normal. Because it is. Boobs are only as sexually explicit as we make them. And breastfeeding is only as embarrassing as we say it is. You can't change the whole world, but you can help one man grow up better. And that's a better future for all of us.

By César Aguado via Wikimedia Commons

 Consider:
What are you really saying when you hide your breastfeeding from your sons? What messages does it send about your body, your baby, and your boys? How will your embarrassment affect how they feel about their wives breastfeeding? Where else and from whom are they going to learn what to think about the primary function of boobs and the nature of breastfeeding?

Tuesday, June 4, 2013

3 Reasons to Write Your Birth Story

I am a big believer in writing as thinking. The mental process involved with putting thoughts into coherent sentences makes your thoughts coherent, allows you to find connections you hadn't seen before, and helps you to release the meaning in what happens to you. I have learned a lot about myself from writing.

Writing serves to heighten and stabilize your experiences. And there is no more important experience than birth. You can get more from the memories of the joyous moments, strengthen your gratitude for what went right, and benefit from sharing with those you choose. Writing will also help you come to terms with the hurt that happened, learn from mistakes (yours and others'), and see the changing power of trouble. In writing about a difficult experience, you create yourself over again: stronger, wiser, more compassionate. Whole.

And every birth is difficult. Birth is not supposed to be like blowing your nose. Birth is supposed to change you. It's when you don't let it change you that you have trouble.  Writing about your birth is cathartic. Your birth is not only what happened, what's in the charts, and how long each phase lasted. It's about the evolution of your motherhood and of your self. I've yet to meet anyone who birth has not changed. Writing about your experience helps you to see more clearly where it is that you are, where you came from, and what you're doing here. Yes, writing  reveals the meaning of life. Your life.

A birth story is not static. Its meaning changes as how you feels about it changes. And it especially changes as you tell it and write it. We tell our stories over and over to look for the spiritual piece of our story. To extract learning and enlightenment from what we experienced. We are our stories. We create ourselves by the stories we tell about ourselves and about the world.

Your birth story changes as how you feel about it changes. Whatever troubles you about your birth, give it some time. Getting it all out in writing puts salve on the sting. It helps you begin to accept what happened and ultimately change how you see and tell your birth story. The power of trouble to change you is very strong, but you get to choose how you are changed. Tell your story. Tell it repeatedly to find the meaning in it. And write it down when you are ready. The magic is in the writing.

Change your story, change your life. Write your story, write your life.