Earlier this week I had a doctor's appointment (for nothing important - just to recheck my Vitamin D levels), and when the doctor walked in I was nursing Scarlett. The doctor mentioned how much she loved had loved breastfeeding her own children, and when she asked how old Scarlett was and learned she was a year, she was slightly surprised at how it looked like she was still "really into it." She wanted to know if she still got most of her nutrition that way, or through solid foods, which stumped me a bit, because I really don't know! Once again I was struck - and amused - by how interesting it is that most people, and especially those in the medical profession, have a hard time understanding a lifestyle of "mothering through breastfeeding-" i.e., having breastfeeding be interwoven throughout our days in such a way that it's impossible to measure, and impossible to determine the questions of "how much" and "how often." They see it as a process with a defined and gradual tapering off, and, even as a whole, simply a supplement to the mothering process. Newborns should nurse every three hours, three month-olds less often (and sleeping "through the night" to boot), six month-olds should begin adding solid foods at regular intervals that should gradually replace even the nursing sessions that should be even farther spaced apart - all leading up to the one year-old mark, at which time they should be eating three well-defined meals a day and ready to wean. If they are nursing at all, it should only be occasionally, because, after all, they no longer "need" it at this point. Now, I should add that I don't know if this is exactly my doctor's thinking, so I don't want to be unfair to her. But I do know that this is the overwhelmingly popular philosophy among doctors, which filters down through the rest of society, so that I often talk to mothers who are confused when their babies deviate from this neat schedule and want to know if their reality is "normal."
I know for a fact that our reality is decidedly different from society's expectations, and I also know that it is normal, and that it isn't harmful (but, I hope, rather the opposite). So I thought I would count how many times Scarlett nursed yesterday, including every ten-second "snack." In a sixteen-hour period, I counted eighteen times. Yes, that's slightly more than once an hour, and, because she took a nap of a couple hours, it means that sometimes she nursed a few times in a given hour. What's more, she nursed during the night, some of which I was aware of, and some of which I wasn't. She probably has close to the same frequency at night as she does during the day. In any case, I wasn't surprised by this, except that I thought it might have been a little more often. "Mothering through breastfeeding" (which, by the way, is a common phrase used in La Leche League) means that nursing is usually a seamless part of our day. She eats other food when she's hungry, and drinks water or juice when she's thirsty, so I don't know how often hunger or thirst figure into her reasons for nursing anymore, but it doesn't matter. When she asks, it's there. When she's tired, it can serve as a pick-me-up, or a way to settle down and get to sleep. When she's frustrated, or overwhelmed with emotions that are just too big for such a little person, it can serve as a way to re-center herself - like the equivalent of taking a deep breath. When she's hurt, it's what Dave jokes is "instant morphine." When she feels she's ventured too far from me as she learns new skills of independence, it's a way to reconnect - "you're still here, and you'll be here every time". When she wants contemplate the difference in taste between breastmilk and juice, she's free to spend 15 minutes alternating between sips of each. And in the meantime, I'm usually going about my business - overseeing schoolwork, reading books, pulling energetic four year-olds off my head, making pancakes (!), checking email, or any number of things that need to be done. And sometimes we still settle down for quiet snuggling time when she's nursing, during which I can look into her beautiful brown eyes, and she can poke lovingly at my face...even though even that kind of time these days usually ends in "nursing gymnastics" in which she tries to see if she can turn upside down and still hang on. The point is, it may be that it sounds like even more than nursing a newborn, and, indeed, she probably does nurse more often as a one year-old than she did as a one week-old, but it's not at all the same.
But the fact remains that it's normal. A different kind of normal than what our culture expects, certainly, but normal just the same. It isn't measured, predictable, dictated by any book on baby care or parenting, or really very explainable to anyone who doesn't already understand it. I don't know how much breastmilk she gets, how it figures into her nutritional intake, or all the reasons she asks for it. And I certainly don't know how long she'll keep it up. All my children have weaned at different ages - but I do know that all my older four children are weaned, so I know it happens eventually! I also know that they are all confident, independent (not sure why everyone is so desperately interested in that, but, anyway....), smart, social, and healthy kids. None of them are even remotely overweight or have major eating problems -nothing at all, in fact, beyond the very normal pickiness common to all kids.
So what I tell mothers who wonder if their reality is normal, who are hounded by concerned pediatricians and mothers-in-law, and aren't sure how to reconcile this style of mothering with the much more neatly packaged variety sold by parenting books and popular thinking is that it's ok. Mothering can't be neatly packaged. Children don't come with dosing instructions, and each and every one is different. There's nothing abnormal, emotionally or physically, with a one year-old who nurses at a rate of more than once an hour...and now that I've exposed myself, so to speak, and our strange variety of "normal" that would leave almost any pediatrician speechless, my hope is that my sisters-in-arms will be encouraged by whatever variety of normal is theirs.
I know for a fact that our reality is decidedly different from society's expectations, and I also know that it is normal, and that it isn't harmful (but, I hope, rather the opposite). So I thought I would count how many times Scarlett nursed yesterday, including every ten-second "snack." In a sixteen-hour period, I counted eighteen times. Yes, that's slightly more than once an hour, and, because she took a nap of a couple hours, it means that sometimes she nursed a few times in a given hour. What's more, she nursed during the night, some of which I was aware of, and some of which I wasn't. She probably has close to the same frequency at night as she does during the day. In any case, I wasn't surprised by this, except that I thought it might have been a little more often. "Mothering through breastfeeding" (which, by the way, is a common phrase used in La Leche League) means that nursing is usually a seamless part of our day. She eats other food when she's hungry, and drinks water or juice when she's thirsty, so I don't know how often hunger or thirst figure into her reasons for nursing anymore, but it doesn't matter. When she asks, it's there. When she's tired, it can serve as a pick-me-up, or a way to settle down and get to sleep. When she's frustrated, or overwhelmed with emotions that are just too big for such a little person, it can serve as a way to re-center herself - like the equivalent of taking a deep breath. When she's hurt, it's what Dave jokes is "instant morphine." When she feels she's ventured too far from me as she learns new skills of independence, it's a way to reconnect - "you're still here, and you'll be here every time". When she wants contemplate the difference in taste between breastmilk and juice, she's free to spend 15 minutes alternating between sips of each. And in the meantime, I'm usually going about my business - overseeing schoolwork, reading books, pulling energetic four year-olds off my head, making pancakes (!), checking email, or any number of things that need to be done. And sometimes we still settle down for quiet snuggling time when she's nursing, during which I can look into her beautiful brown eyes, and she can poke lovingly at my face...even though even that kind of time these days usually ends in "nursing gymnastics" in which she tries to see if she can turn upside down and still hang on. The point is, it may be that it sounds like even more than nursing a newborn, and, indeed, she probably does nurse more often as a one year-old than she did as a one week-old, but it's not at all the same.
But the fact remains that it's normal. A different kind of normal than what our culture expects, certainly, but normal just the same. It isn't measured, predictable, dictated by any book on baby care or parenting, or really very explainable to anyone who doesn't already understand it. I don't know how much breastmilk she gets, how it figures into her nutritional intake, or all the reasons she asks for it. And I certainly don't know how long she'll keep it up. All my children have weaned at different ages - but I do know that all my older four children are weaned, so I know it happens eventually! I also know that they are all confident, independent (not sure why everyone is so desperately interested in that, but, anyway....), smart, social, and healthy kids. None of them are even remotely overweight or have major eating problems -nothing at all, in fact, beyond the very normal pickiness common to all kids.
So what I tell mothers who wonder if their reality is normal, who are hounded by concerned pediatricians and mothers-in-law, and aren't sure how to reconcile this style of mothering with the much more neatly packaged variety sold by parenting books and popular thinking is that it's ok. Mothering can't be neatly packaged. Children don't come with dosing instructions, and each and every one is different. There's nothing abnormal, emotionally or physically, with a one year-old who nurses at a rate of more than once an hour...and now that I've exposed myself, so to speak, and our strange variety of "normal" that would leave almost any pediatrician speechless, my hope is that my sisters-in-arms will be encouraged by whatever variety of normal is theirs.
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