Love Can Come in Bottles, Too.
How can we be all those things?
Well, we believe that breastfeeding our babies is an incredible gift, but that sometimes it simply doesn't happen the way we planned.
We are not here to encourage or discourage any particular choice parents make on how to nourish their babies. We are here to support the ones who struggled or are struggling to breastfeed and are facing the guilt that often comes along with deciding to stop breastfeeding.
We have both experienced this personally, and have gone through all the guilt alone, so we wanted to start this tumblr to post encouragement and to answer your questions and concerns as you make this sometimes difficult and traumatic transition.
We want you to bottle-feed without fear of judgement, and without guilt. You are doing the best that you can do for your baby given your particular circumstances. Be assured that the love and care you take in making this sometimes agonizing decision shows beyond a shadow of a doubt that love can come in bottles, too.
The politics of breastfeeding in this country is, after all, more about mothering than about milk. And mothers, for some reason, have always been the most meddled-with, second-guessed people on earth. Just a few decades ago, doctors in this country would push breastfeeding women to use formula if their babies weren’t gaining weight at an acceptable rate, and mothers who nursed outside the home were considered lewd. Now, a mom who gives a hungry infant a little formula is led to believe by some people she’s poisoning him. When will the world learn to trust mothers? When will concerned strangers give women they don’t know the benefit of the doubt? These are matters that society may tackle someday. In the meantime, moms soldier on, doing what they must — the very best they can.
Hey, Time magazine.
In regard to the question “Are You Mom Enough?” on your incendiary cover about attachment parenting, the answer is “Yes.”
Whether we practice attachment parenting or not, the answer is “Yes.”
Whether we’re a mom or a dad, the answer is “Yes.”
Whether we feel like a success or a failure, the answer is “Yes.”
Whether we’re having a good day or a bad day, the answer is “Yes.”
And whether a global publication understands it or not, the answer is “Yes.”
We are mom enough because we love our children.
AMEN.
It turns out, I had Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex, a hormonal reflex that occurs with the letdown of breastmilk. It is also known as D-MER and I will refer to it as such throughout this post.
Anonymous Asks:
lovecancomeinbottlestoo Said:
Lizzie: “Elimination Communication.” I don’t know too much about it, perhaps Lily could do a post about it. I know that it’s basically where you teach baby to understand her body’s cues to go to the bathroom from a very young age.
Lily: EC means “Elimination Communication,” like Lizzie said. I personally use cloth diapers, though we have put Lucas on the toilet a few times. However, we don’t actively practise EC. Here is some more information: Elimination Communication.
Guess What? They’re All Fantastic Moms!
Being a mom is a hard enough job without people judging you on how you feed, whether you cloth diaper or use disposables, or whether you cosleep or babywear; and I can’t help but wonder if we supported each other instead of judging each other if maybe (just maybe) this mothering thing wouldn’t be as hard.
Let’s face it, having trouble breastfeeding can be a downer. But is it also a red flag that you are at risk for postpartum depression? Yes, say researchers from the University of North Carolina whose recent study of over 2,500 new moms found that women who admit they don’t like to breastfeed–or who experience breastfeeding difficulties during the first few weeks after birth–have much higher rates of postpartum depression than moms for whom breastfeeding comes easy.
I’m a transgender parent: not the parent of a transgender child, nor a parent who transitioned after having kids. Rather, I transitioned from female to male, and then later became pregnant—as a trans man. I had a healthy pregnancy, and birthed my baby naturally. And in that first moment when I saw my baby and held him in my arms—smelling his amazing, newborn baby smell—I became addicted to him.
Just last week, my little guy turned 1 years old, and I can say that my initial intense feeling toward him has only become more powerful over time. Part of its effect is to make me highly sensitive to my child’s needs, despite the awkward moments we sometimes endure in public as a nursing couple.
Even now, almost two years later, I feel a twinge whenever I see a woman whip out her boob at the playground. Why couldn’t that have been me? I briefly fantasize about having another baby (could I maybe get it right the second time around?), before reminding myself that the dream of breastfeeding is possibly the worst reason to have another child. But then I look over at my son, roaring with laughter as he whizzes down a slide or shouting out a new word from the top of the jungle gym. My inability to breastfeed seemed so do-or-die when he was an infant, so all-determining. But I don’t think my strapping son has suffered in the long run, not even a little bit, from what I saw as such a horrendous deprivation at my hands. Breast milk or no breast milk, he couldn’t possibly have turned out any better, and these days that’s the only consolation I need.
