Good Enough Page 7
Take, for instance, my girlfriends. I know their relationships with their own breasts as well as I do my own. I know who padded them out with handfuls of Kleenex during our teenage years, and I know who had wax dripped on them or had an unfortunate biting incident during a sexual encounter gone wrong that ended up in the emergency room. But never have I known so much about them as I do now that we’ve all become mothers. Like most women of child-bearing age these days, it’s not at all unusual for us to be sitting, breasts flapping in the breeze, as we shovel in the better part of a packet of Tim Tams and a cup of tea during our get-togethers. Yes, breasts are out but it’s hardly the stuff men’s wet dreams are made of. No one’s having tickle fights or brandishing whipped cream (unless they’re squirting it on the Tim Tams). Nope, we either have squawking infants attached to our breasts, or we’re pressing cooling gels and cabbage leaves to them to try to get some relief. And everyone has their own story to tell.
One girlfriend can’t breastfeed without nipple protectors and spends most of her evenings airing her breasts trying to heal her recurrent mastitis. Another girlfriend’s baby has tongue-tie and cannot breastfeed at all, so she expresses several times a day and feeds her baby via bottle, such is her desperation to give her baby the very best. Another tried breastfeeding for a while but no matter what she did, she just couldn’t build up the supply her sumo baby needed for adequate nourishment. As she persisted under the weight of the public message that breast is best, her baby was basically starving so with a great deal of guilt, she gave up and turned to bottle feeding – but the trauma of doing so is ever present. ‘Whenever we go out with people who aren’t close friends, I pretend it’s a one-off bottle of formula because we’re out and about or because I haven’t been feeling well,’ she tells me. ‘I realise it’s no one else’s business but I just don’t have the balls to admit I’m not breastfeeding because I know I’m going to be judged.’ She sounds a little bit mental, I know, but she’s probably quite right about being judged. How can she not be when celebs like model Gisele Bündchen spout nonsensical rubbish – in Gisele’s case that women should be forced by law to breastfeed for six months.
You might have noticed this pressure to breastfeed comes from pretty much everywhere and it begins soon after you conceive. At your antenatal classes, you’re often told of all the benefits of breast milk and zilch about your options if it goes pear-shaped. Once baby pops out, you’ll often have a midwife or lactation consultant glued to your side until successful feeding is established. They’ll give you the number of a 24-hour breastfeeding hotline and if you Google ‘breastfeeding support’ you’ll come across thousands of websites dedicated to the ‘breast is best’ message and just two support groups for bottle feeders, which you’ll only find if you search for hours as you cry over your perceived failure as a woman.
To back things up a little, yes, we’re all aware that breast milk is the healthiest choice for our babies. If you’re still a little fuzzy on the details, breast milk is known to contain enzymes essential for baby’s brain growth. It enhances the development of their nervous system and promotes sensory and cognitive development. Breast milk increases a baby’s resistance to infections and strengthens their immunity against illness, plus helps bub recover faster if they have been ill. It’s also recognised as a protective factor against SIDS, and helps protect bub from developing ear infections, lung infections, gastric diarrhoea and bowel infections. It reduces the baby’s chance of developing allergenic illnesses such as asthma and skin allergies later in life, helps prevent life-threatening complications and the list goes on and on. It’s no wonder then that the World Health Organization recommends babies be breastfed exclusively for the first six months of their lives. We know babies are made to drink the stuff but goddamn it – why the hell does it have to be so bloody difficult for some mums?
It’s worth pointing out that the breastfeeding initiation rate in Australia is 92 per cent, one of the world’s highest. We all start off with the best of intentions, right? But then something happens between day two and day seven – the rate of breastfeeding mums drops to 80 per cent. By two months, it’s 62 per cent, three months 56 per cent, and by the time we get to six months only 14 per cent of mums breastfeed, a rate that is among the lowest in the world. So how do we drop from 92 per cent to 14 per cent in six months? Some blame media and advertising, others blame our working culture and lack of workplace flexibility, but the most common reasons for hitting the bottle include: not producing enough milk; cracked nipples and that hell otherwise known as mastitis; going back to work; wanting to include dad; medical issues; and in the case of one woman I know, a genuine desire to return to her coke-snorting ways (let’s just pop this under the miscellaneous ‘lifestyle’ category, shall we?) According to researchers, women from a lower socio-economic background are also far less likely to initiate or continue breastfeeding as they often lack family support, have less flexible working arrangements, seem more concerned about breastfeeding in public, and are less likely to seek help for breastfeeding problems (and between you and me, private lactation consultants do not come cheap). Women in higher socio-economic groups tend to be more successful with breastfeeding because they adopt healthier behaviour patterns such as exercising regularly, eating healthy diets and quitting smoking for the sake of their baby.
But what of the rampant fanaticism of the all-powerful breastfeeding lobby and its followers, also known as the ‘mammary mafia’? I failed maths at school but considering 84 per cent of mothers turn to bottle feeding (often by necessity, not by choice) something appears to be amiss with the numbers here. In Australia, you are not allowed to advertise formula for infants in any way, shape or form (but you can for toddlers, hence those horrific ads with the dubbed voices and hyena laughs), and even if you buy a baby bottle from any major retailer, you often need to click on a link which is basically a terms and conditions citing that while you ‘understand breast is best, blah blah blah’. So where’s the 84 per cent getting their information from?
We’ve been serving bubs formula for decades (I was a formula-fed baby myself), but now it’s said formula is full of chemicals and additives. One nursing and midwifery expert announced not long ago that the government should make baby formula available on doctor’s prescription only, which is a wonderful idea I suppose if your general idea is to take a mum who is experiencing enough difficulty as it is, to go to her medical professional and explain exactly why she should be allowed to give her baby artificial milk rather than let the poor child starve to death. Brilliant! A counsellor from the Australian Breastfeeding Association (ABA) went one better recently, associating formula feeding with AIDS, suggesting that, like HIV, formula feeding destroys babies’ immune systems. If that wasn’t enough to frighten the bejesus out of all the new and vulnerable mums present, she is also alleged to have said a baby dies every 30 seconds from complications caused by formula feeding. Yes, she really did. I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried, people. Anyway, the Royal Australasian College of Physicians rubbished the clown and her bullshit figures immediately, and the ABA announced this particular counsellor’s views were not the view of the ABA and she had been stood down while they conducted an internal investigation.
Idiotic counsellors and backward associations are one thing, but what hurts is that the most vocal critics are often other mums who really should know better and cut other mums some slack. Perhaps they breastfed easily or persisted through cracked nipples and mastitis and think you’re just taking the easy way out? Who knows, who cares? Babies are remarkably resilient. Whether you choose to breast or bottle feed, as long as your child is fed, loved and protected from harm, they will grow up to be absolutely fine.
Is bottle feeding my baby akin to giving them a packet of cigarettes to smoke?
Clare Byam-Cook SRN SCM, author of the books What to Expect When You’re Breast-feeding . . . And What If You Can’t?, Top Tips for Breast-feeding and Top Tips for Bottle-feeding, says no.
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sp; ‘I really don’t understand why there is so much hysteria about breastfeeding and why those who have succeeded are often so critical of those who have not. The prevailing view seems to be that any mother who does not breastfeed is a bad mother and it never seems to occur to them that the success or failure of breastfeeding is often more down to good luck rather than brilliance on behalf of the mother! While I fully support the view that breastfeeding is essential in developing countries (where bottle feeding is potentially dangerous because of hygiene issues, etc), I think we should take a somewhat more relaxed view in other countries. Breast milk is the perfect food for a newborn baby and every mother should be encouraged to breastfeed where possible, but I don’t think they should be made to feel a failure if they can’t manage it or have a good reason for not doing it.’
Clare’s top five breastfeeding tips
Breastfeeds can last for up to an hour, so it’s important that both mother and baby are comfortable for the duration of each feed. Some babies find breastfeeding very easy and will latch on with little or no help from their mother but others definitely need a bit more guidance.
1. Sit on a chair, sofa or bed in exactly the same way as you would happily sit to read a book or watch television. You do not need to sit bolt upright in ‘breastfeeding mode’!
2. Place one or more pillows on your lap, so that you can lay your baby on the pillow at the level of your breast. This allows you to feed your baby in a much more relaxed way as you will not need to support your baby on your arm. I find ordinary bed pillows are better for this than specialist breastfeeding pillows.
3. To help your baby latch on easily I suggest gently squeezing your breast on either side of the areola so that your nipple protrudes. This will enable him to latch on deeply without always having to open his mouth wide. This technique is particularly helpful if you have large breasts and/or flat nipples.
4. If your baby is latched on perfectly, breastfeeding should be pain-free and your baby should be able to get the milk easily. If every suck hurts, you need to take him off the breast and then latch on again. As soon as you get it right, you will really notice the difference.
5. Only keep your baby on the breast for as long as he is sucking properly – long, slow, deep and rhythmic sucks. When he starts doing shallow and infrequent sucks it is time to swap to the second breast as he will no longer be getting much milk.
Clare’s top five bottle feeding tips
When bottle feeding, each mother needs to find out for herself which bottle best suits her baby, because not every baby feeds in the same way. One size does not fit all. It’s the same with formula milks: one brand might suit your baby far better than another.
1. Ask your friends for advice as to which bottles they found to be the best, but don’t buy a full set until you have established whether their recommendation suits your baby.
2. It’s not worth buying specialist anti-colic bottles unless you establish that your baby needs them. This is because these bottles tend to be more expensive and more fiddly to clean and assemble than ordinary bottles.
3. It should take your baby roughly 20 minutes to feed from a bottle. If your baby is taking much longer than this, you should try a faster flow teat and if he feeds much more quickly than this you should use a slower flow teat. Don’t just assume that all newborn babies need the same teat.
4. If your baby feeds badly from every bottle/teat, don’t just assume he is a messy or bad feeder: he might have a medical problem (such as reflux) which needs diagnosing and treating.
5. Likewise with formula milks; if none suits him you should seek medical advice in case he is suffering from milk intolerance or allergy.
And for those moments when it feels like everything is going to hell in a handbasket, Clare has the following words of comfort:
* You are a brand-new mother, so you are relying on the experts (eg midwives, breastfeeding counsellors) to show you how to do it properly. If they can’t do this, they are the failure, not you.
* Nature doesn’t always get it right and breastfeeding doesn’t always go well in the animal world, either. Some dairy cows produce so little milk that the farmer slaughters them as it’s a waste of time milking them and he doesn’t want to breed from them. Luckily we don’t slaughter mothers who have the same problem! Also, some lambs fail to breastfeed properly, which is why they need to be taken into the farmhouse and bottlefed. Some babies are exactly like these lambs and a loving mother should also make the sensible decision that their baby will only thrive and be happy if bottlefed.
* There is more to parenting than breastfeeding and fathers do not need to breastfeed to bond with their baby.
* Adoptive parents (who do not breastfeed) still nurture healthy and happy children.
When I think about the cost of having kids, I vomit a little bit in my mouth
I’m certain I’m going to have a heart attack. I lie in the dark next to Lee gasping for air as vomit rises up to my throat and down again. My skin’s all clammy; I’m sure I’m about to decorate the carpet. ‘How could this have happened?’ asks Lee for the second time as though it will somehow, in some way, change the outcome of the situation. It doesn’t, and being pregnant and hormonal, only serves to set me off. ‘How the fuck do I know? I thought you had fixed this!’ I scream. ‘Well, I thought you would have fixed this!’ he shoots back as he sits up in bed abruptly and turns on the light. Now we’re both agitated and I burst into tears. Bewildered, Lee looks at me, obviously unsure as to whether he should punch me or hug me. There’s no point in arguing, anyway, nothing we say or do can change the fact we’ve forgotten to increase our level of private health insurance cover before we tried to conceive. Now six weeks’ pregnant, we’ve discovered we only have minimal cover so although I’m guaranteed to maintain my pearly whites and get my spine cracked every so often, it’s a shithouse situation for an elective caesarean in a private hospital. After a few deep breaths, Lee gives me a hug and says, ‘It’s okay, baby, we’ll call them tomorrow and explain the situation.’ I wipe away my tears and nod sadly, even though I want to laugh in his face. A health fund bending over backwards to give freebies to a customer? Neither of us sleeps much that night.
The following morning, I’m on the phone to Kelly, my sympathetic health fund customer service operator. ‘Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!’ she sing-songs when I tell her about our oversight. ‘Let me see what I can do for you,’ she says before putting me on hold. ‘Let me see what I can do for you.’ With that one sentence my heart is buoyed. She didn’t laugh me off the line and hang up on me so there’s a start – maybe they’ll see from our records that we’ve been long-time customers and cut us a bit of slack? Like fuck. ‘I’m so sorry, there’s nothing we can do,’ says Kelly sheepishly when she gets back on the line and my heart sinks. ‘But we had the high level cover for AGES then we dropped it after our daughter was born and forgot to raise it again when we tried for this little one,’ I whinge in a highly unattractive voice. ‘I know, Ms Yasa, but my manager assures me there’s nothing we can do – rules are rules.’ Her moment of sympathy over, she then brightens and her voice becomes chipper again. ‘And is there anything else we can help you with today?’ she says like she’s an automated service; for a second there, I thought she may have been human. ‘Yes, perhaps you can come over and help me give birth in a field,’ I spit as I hang up and bawl into my hands. We are basically screwed.
Although I initially consider paying out of our own pockets, the hospital dashes my dreams straight away with a heart-stopping email quoting a figure of $11,500 – with a large amount of additional extras tagged underneath. Apparently, it is $6000 for the accommodation alone. I will then need to pay for the anaesthetists, assistant surgeon, my obstetrician and the cost of any specialists who visit to check over the baby (paediatricians, etc). Once I work out each individual cost, the total sum is closer to $17,000! I start shaking like a leaf and lie down on the couch. How in the hell did it become so expensive to have a baby?
‘I don’t know why you’re freakin’ surprised,’ says my work colleague Corinne. ‘Ever since you became a mother, you’ve been complaining about how much babies cost and how a woman can never prepare herself for the financial shock of having a child.’ She’s right of course, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Corinne knows as well as I do that I have been broke since the day Cella was born. Obviously I’m not on the streets or anything so I count myself lucky, but I’m constantly staring at my empty wallet, wondering where the hell my money has gone. It’s $130 a day for childcare (although I do get the non-means-tested 50 per cent childcare rebate), $20 a week for ballet lessons, $20 a week for swimming lessons, $30 a week for violin lessons. I’ve gone through three prams and two car seats as my daughter has grown, replaced her bedroom furniture twice (looooong story), and feel like I’m at the shoe shop every week getting her feet fitted for more new shoes to replace the ones that no longer fit. It goes without saying the shopping list for clothing, toys and books is endless as she gets older, and of course, as she becomes more social and gains more friends, that means buying more presents to attend more birthday parties, as well as the crazy cost of hosting hers. And have I mentioned the amount of money we spend at the pharmacy? Simply put, my fiscal reality as a mother is a far cry from the idea I had in my head when I was cradling La Petite One in my belly.
I should have known better – every time one of those pesky studies was released about the true cost of raising children until the age of eighteen, I chose to look the other way. It was just damned painful, and besides, I would cry, surely those figures are incorrect? I mean, don’t babies just drink breast milk and bat at a wooden toy for the first couple of years, anyway? I’m nowhere near the only person on the face of the planet who has thought this, because a recent study has revealed that although 76 per cent of expectant parents said they felt financially prepared for having a baby, 41 per cent of new parents who’ve come out the other side admitted that they were nowhere near as prepared as they thought they were. It is quite clearly just another one of those lies we tell ourselves to keep the world populated.