Wednesday, March 13, 2019
Verydice?!
Tuesday, March 12, 2019
For the CULTCHA!!!
Note: I absolutely spelled culture, CULTCHA, on purpose. Get into it, because I'll probably keep doing it. It's how I pronounce it anyway, and I'm trying to be a little more personal with this all. That means I might not use my school grammar all the time, and
Namastè!
...because that's part of my personal culture. *winks*
Now. This whole breastfeeding life has me hooked. I'm obsessed with reading and researching. I'm obsessed with trying to teach and share and encourage. I'm obsessed, in particular, with pouring this knowledge and all these warm wishes into my fellow Black women.
That's not to exclude anyone else...bear with me though, because before I can save the world, I gotta take care of home FIRST. Like, I can't give a bottle to the baby in the park while my own baby screams her head off for her milk and my arms. Don't let the mention of actual race frighten you here. Absorb it, and maybe help me fix the disparities here.
Do it for the CULTCHA.
Or just let me do this, and don't be a thorn. My own culture is the rose here. I must nurture it.
My culture, Black women in the US, hurts as far as breastfeeding is concerned. Here's some numbers I've dug up...
As of August 2018 (the most current info I was able to dig up when this post slammed itself into my mind--it was a real gotta write moment), the CDC reports that only 58.9% of Black women had ever breastfed at all, compared with 75% of White women. That doesn't take into account any particular milestone, just that a baby was latched to the breast.
We start out behind the curve. But it gets deeper.
Add to that our higher infant mortality rate--due to lack of and or insufficient prenatal care, our little ones are more likely to be born too small, too soon, or too sick.
THEN add the fact that our experiences with lactation consultants can often be lackluster or even detrimental. See, the field of lactation professionals is like a snowy landscape, dotted with the occasional Black or Brown consultant. Because we are not yet well-represented in this field, we are often faced with trying to work with a nurse or LC who doesn't understand the cultural, economical, and social constraints we may face in addition to the physiological and emotional aspects of breastfeeding. There's so much that can affect it. A person who doesn't understand your path, can't help you walk it.
Now add in the unique cultural associations Black women face when we set out to breastfeed.
1. Many of us are not even offered information on it, beginning with our upbringing! We grow up seeing babies with formula bottles, even when the parents of those infants cannot actually afford said formula.
2. We are conditioned to believe our bodies, or breasts in particular, are for sex and aesthetic. Period. That means we associate them with carnal pleasure only. And once you are conditioned to view your body only that way, you have a difficult time deprogramming that mindset and understanding that breasts are for feeding infants first!
Note: It's fine to look appealing. I'd be lying if I didn't acknowledge that breasts are part of the feminine aesthetic! I'd also be dead wrong if I didn't acknowledge and impart their FIRST purpose--to feed infants.
3. We don't get the right support, unless we live and or receive medical care in an area that's predominantly not Black or Brown.
I live in Georgia, in Gwinnett County. Peachtree Corners, which is right on the border of the coveted Johns Creek area. The "good side of the tracks" so to speak. I have private pay insurance. When I walk into my OB/GYN's office (or even my kids' pediatrician's office), I see bright colorful posters of moms breastfeeding. I see pamphlets providing information about the benefits of breastmilk. The doctors and nurses extol the benefits of breastfeeding at practically every appointment. They celebrate it and offer resources to boost moms' success rates! The hospitals are baby friendly and further push breastfeeding into the eyes and minds of the families there.
But I also lived in Albany, before Tiger Lily was born. My husband relocated for work, and after a few haphazard months of trying to work through the 3-plus hour commutes and extremely limited family time, I joined him. But Albany isn't the same kinda town as my sweet Peachtree Corners. Not by a long shot. My doctor never mentioned how I would be feeding her. The hospital was supposedly baby friendly but the nurses were not overly concerned with helping me breastfeed. If I didn't know how, I would have been on my own to learn because they simply watched the baby latch (thank goodness she got it) and informed me that I could call the nurse if something didn't feel right. There was no actual lactation consultant, only a nurse who admitted that she only had her own breastfeeding personal experience but no formal lactation consultant training. (Would be the blind leading the blind, eh?)
I distinctly remember them calling me "Miss Atlanta" and kinda snickering amongst themselves because what had become a norm for me (doctors and nurses giving the best information regardless of perceived socioeconomic status) seemed to be over the top to them.
4. Perhaps the most difficult--we have a lot of past baggage regarding breastfeeding.
I call it the Mammy Complex.
Black women were wet nurses during slavery, having to nurse the master's children before their own or face brutal beatings and death--assuming they hadn't been separated from their own newborns yet, because babies were sold as well.
Fast forward a few decades. (It really isn't that far removed.) Because of those emotional traumas, and to provide the same things to their babies as their White counterparts, Black women embraced formula.
(I personally believe not breastfeeding was a way for them to reclaim their bodies and take a stand for their ancestors. Kinda like, "Look, great grandma. They can't take it away from us now. And our babies are getting the same "better" options as theirs.")
5. Despite the fact that all science is doing is trying to recreate breastmilk, and despite the fact that every formula can states "breast is best," Black women have embraced formula BECAUSE BUYING IT INDICATES A WEIRD SOCIOECONOMIC ADVANTAGE. Outside the cultural aspect and what I call generational trauma, we have been raised to think that formula is fine.
It is fine. It's fine in the same way 27-cent packs of Ramen and other inexpensive processed foods are fine. When you are hungry, you take--usually quite happily--what you get. Babies cannot choose, so if mom has decided on that formula, then that's what baby adjusts to and accepts.
While we might go out and get the most expensive brand of formula, touting the most health benefits, the closest one to MILK WE ALREADY CAN MAKE, we miss an important point: formula will never be tailored to our child by development, and feeding them formula just because we can afford it is not really putting us ahead.
It's weird, yes?
...
Clearly I can go on, but I'll leave those bits for you to chew on right now.
When I say I do this first for my babies, second for the CULTCHA, I mean it.
The benefits to Black moms (any moms, but I'm talking about us here) simply seeing other Black moms breastfeeding and sticking to it, are immeasurable. I'll cover that in another post because I don't want this to run too long. We live in a 140-character world these days and I don't want to bore anyone...
But this CULTCHA.
I do it for us, but I also do it for us.
I always imagine, when I start to think about quitting (and I do--as does every breastfeeding mom), I remind myself of three things.
1. This is the only time I can truthfully say that something I do purely for my own kids, can help someone else. As I said, we need to see ourselves represented in this journey. Someone had to start the ripple, and I have to do my part to make it continue.
2. As we return to our natural hair and eat better foods ourselves, the natural progression must continue: we need to go back to feeding our babies their perfect food, whether we feed directly or express and use a good bottle. Returning to natural means we need to take our babies too, right?
3. As personal as breastfeeding is, it cannot be so personal that I can't share every bit of knowledge with other moms. If they receive it, that is. Triumphs and fails too.
I feel responsible for bringing some light to it.
Sunday, March 10, 2019
Oh. My. GOAT?!
Breastfeeding AIN'T A Privilege. 😒
I'm up and bleary-eyed, cuddling with my nursling. She has her feet in my bra (don't ask!) and she's contentedly watching a cow on YouTube as she twiddles her teether elephant. (Look into ChewMe Jewelery on IG, Etsy, and FB for custom teethers--they're amazing, adorable, and incredibly durable. Ours are about 3 years old and still look new. Most importantly they're still safe and still soothing the littlest Namastè.)
I digress.
I'm aware that breastfeeding is a lot of work. It's a learning process. It's a dance that both mom and baby must choreograph to suit their individual situation. It's like a second (or third?) job!
But it is NOT a privilege.
On one of my errand runs this week, I happened to feed the baby. (Fancy that, the little bird was hungry?!) I've gotten used to people either complimenting, congratulating, or questioning me about nursing. I don't actually enjoy the attention, simply because no one would bat an eye if it were me just eating lunch or having a drink. No one ever calls me brave when I decide to have a sandwich, or tells me how beautiful it is that I'm sipping a Boba tea. They also never tell me to cover up or preach about modesty.
In general, I'm allowed to eat and or drink to my heart's content and not a soul cares.
But on this particular trip, I heard a new one.
"You're so lucky. It's a privilege to exclusively breastfeed."
I just smiled, nodded.
I chewed on it internally though.
How is it a privilege?
Natural, yes.
Old as time? Also yes.
Privilege?
I'm not sure I see that one.
I do feel proud to breastfeed. After all, I come from a family that has not embraced it. I didn't grow up seeing breasts as anything but sex appeal, things to be covered up. Objects of either extreme modesty or outright fastness. (If a girl showed cleavage and dared talk to boys, she was exhibiting fastness and needed to be toned down, lest she end up disgraced.) Because I didn't dare exhibit said fastness, and was painfully flat, the coveted and dreaded breasts were not a real consideration for me. I'm still expected to cover up around them, which is why I'm not around them much. They still ask when I will wean, or if I've given the baby real milk yet. (I'm not entirely sure what I'm producing and pumping--perhaps it's vodka and my babies have really been actual drunk all this time instead of milk drunk!)
The pride I feel doesn't come from the act itself, but the ability.
I was never taught anything about it, this breastfeeding business. To have done so for the past 3 years and odd week or so is nothing short of amazing for me, personally.
I didn't have books in 2006, the first time I tried. I didn't have an online community. I had yet to meet my amazing friends Princess and Ashanti. I didn't have a lactation consultant.
In 2016 I had all of that. I utilized the heck out of those golden resources. I talked to those two women more, and ingested their wisdom. I researched.
I made it.
But that was not privilege.
Nope.
Privilege would mean it was all just handed to me--the perfect situation, the perfect latch, the perfect supply. The perfect support.
None of my journey has been perfect, and it certainly was not just handed to me. I didn't wake up one day with everything I know, and the support system I've got. All that had to be gleaned, garnered, gathered, and grabbed.
I'm not sure you're aware, but Black women have one of the lowest rates for breastfeeding, especially when you get into the 6 month and beyond marks. We simply do not receive the support, education, or motivation from our Healthcare teams and families.
Breastfeeding requires a mother and her baby obviously, but also some support for the mother. Someone has to be in her corner--cheering, educating, motivating and, at times, correcting her. These things don't just fall out of the sky for anyone. When a mother is too intimidated or simply uneducated on the benefits, she won't even seek them out.
So...I don't see it as a privilege.
It's something I work at, every single day.
Every time my baby latches, we learned that. Every time I pump an ounce, we earned that. Every time I can feed her in public without shame or fear, we took that. Every time that milk soothes an owie, or calms her when she is feeling out of sorts, or reinforces a bond that did not happen instantly, we own that!
Those rolls and dimples on my Tiger Lily, and the strong immune systems and early milestones she and her siblings all demonstrate, are not a privilege. Not a privilege one bit.
It's all the results of working at something we needed. It was never a want--it was a need. I needed to give them my best, but I had to work and learn and perfect it as we've gone. It still isn't textbook perfect, but it's perfect for us.
It isn't a privilege though. A privilege includes choice and control.
I didn't choose how our journey would go. I couldn't. I could only choose how I'd react, respond, and reinforce my resolve to keep going anyway.
The S9 Plus
Hey, hey, and Namastè!
If you've been following my social media (and honestly, why wouldn't you?!), you've seen me out and about with a breast pump that looks like a little cell phone.
It's in the car. It's in the house. It's everywhere.
But what is it?!
NOTE: The views and experiences detailed here are mine and mine alone. I was not compensated in any way by SpectraBaby USA for this review.
It's my SpectraBaby S9 Plus.
The SpectraBaby S9 Plus is a handheld, portable (even more so than the S1) breastpump. It features customizable vacuum settings and the hospital quality suction SpectraBaby is known for providing at a fraction of the cost of other pumps.
I got my S9 Plus when Tiger Lily was a fresh newborn, and I haven't looked back. I was already pretty devoted to my S2, because it helped me maintain my supply. I went through some very difficult first days, as I did not want to pump too early--yet my oversupply kicked in when my baby was only 3 days old and she could barely latch because my breasts were hard as rocks and spraying her in her face.
She didn't latch for about three weeks after that, but thanks to my Spectra I was able to express feedings without tearing up my nipples (the Spectra pumps don't suck, they suckle like a baby!)
I was skeptical about the S9 Plus because it's so little. It's smaller than my Galaxy Note 5, and doesn't weigh as much as my digital camera (I have a Canon, which isn't very heavy at all). I didn't want to fall into the hype of it just because it was little and cute.
Kinda like the baby. *chuckle*
I digress, and I kid.
The S9 Plus delivers the same performance as my S1, if not better.
I won't tell you it's gonna magically have you pumping out ounces on ounces, but when compared to my Medela Sonata the S9 Plus does a far better job of emptying the b'reservoirs, and it takes less time. It's also less uncomfortable, which is always very important to me because in addition to oversupply, I am cursed with very tender nipples. It takes nothing to tear them up like hamburger meat, *sighs*
The S9 Plus is super quiet. It doesn't exactly buzz, but it doesn't hum. I can use it while I'm on the phone (and I do) and not miss a beat.
It really shines for travel. Because it's smaller than one of my phones, it sits oh-so-adorably in my cup holder in the car. It has such a slim profile that it's been mistaken by a phone more than once, and I didn't bother correcting that person. The backlight is absolutely perfect for night time on the road, as I can see to toggle my settings. I'm a big fan of the soft blue backlight. It looks super soothing and it matches my preferred Lactalite setting.
I usually charge my S9 Plus up once every 2 days or so, and the battery hangs tough. You get the same suction at full battery that you do at one bar of power, and there isn't a huge difference between its plugged in performance versus its battery only performance. (This is important--trust me.)
I've used many pumps the past (almost) 3 years. I've had portables and "desktops." I've had fancy big name brands and new guys on the block. I've even used those extra techy experimental ones. (Spoiler alert: Don't waste your money on Willow--just get settled Freemie cups. And sadly, Naya shut down; I never got my pump from pre-orders so I never got to experience it.) I am rarely truly impressed by breastpumps because the overall idea has not changed since their inception!
...but the S9 Plus does impress me. I dig it. Pumping is a chore I can't easily skip, and since I have to do it I prefer to do it as efficiently and effectively as possible. Also as comfortably as possible, and not have my day hindered by being tethered to a chair all day.