Unearthing grief: More on breast-feeding

I did quite a bit of work back in 2013 on grieving the loss of ever being able to breast-feed. Many people told me all about the wonderful alternatives, offered testimonies of formula-fed babies who are now thriving youth or adults, assured me that bonding happens a lot of ways, that I have so much love to give that our child will not lack in any way. I got it. I was grateful for the outpouring, and I didn't worry. I moved on.

This might make me sound like a terrible mother-to-be, but while I do care about the health of our child, the loss of breast-feeding wasn't really about that for me. I know there are healthy alternatives, and believe me, I am pursuing them. The hardest grief to overcome was the loss of a personal dream. I wanted to be able to feed my child from my own body. I wanted my body to get to do what it is built to do. I wanted all the experiences that go with motherhood. (Yes, I know things don't always go according to plan even if you don't get cancer. But the fact is: cancer took them from me before I even got a chance to try.)

Even this, though, I grieved and moved past. As I have prepared for an actual baby and not just a hypothetical one, I have thrown myself into other aspects of preparing for motherhood, and been probably overly concerned about things like what kind of bottles to get (no bottle is a boob, but there are other great, healthy, earth-conscious options out there!), what sort of formula to use, or milk donor possibilities. Thing is, I don't get to decide about breast-feeding, but I do get to decide whether my child will eat organic food or not, at least in infanthood, and so I will. Kind-hearted and caring folks have doubted my insistence on things like glass bottles, but as soon as I whip out, "I had cancer three times before I was 30, and I will do whatever I can to keep carcinogens out of my child's system for as long as I can," people usually keep to themselves. (Beware: mama bear cancer survivor!) Obviously, this is about more than bottles and formula for me. This is about my needing to find a way to exercise my mama instincts somewhere, and this is how I've chosen to do it, for better or worse.

So yes, going into this pregnancy I felt like I was pretty well over the breast-feeding loss. I could see articles on Facebook about some new study about how good breast milk is, and just scroll past, without that pang in my heart. I could see all the recommended baby gear aimed at breast-feeding mothers, and just walk by to the next aisle, no harm, no foul.

But nothing like pregnancy hormones to throw all that balance out the door.

Problem is, I am sort of a crunchy hippie, and interested in things like plastic-free baby toys, and baby wearing, all-natural remedies, and recipes for making my own products, and making my own baby food, and cloth diapering. And the sources, stores, and people who run in these circles, well, they are also pro-breast-feeding. So there is not a lot of information out there for crunchy formula feeders. (Er, the feeders are crunchy, not the formula!) No one has shamed me or anything, and as soon as I explain my situation there is nothing but understanding. It just gets discouraging to hear about breast-feeding all the time, because for the people who share my child-rearing values, that is important (as it should be).

So take yesterday: we have a doula as a part of our baby-prep care team. (Read here what a doula is.) Actually, two doulas, who will both meet with us leading up to the birth, and one of them will be with us for the actual birth. The organization where they work offers before-birth classes once a month, free to doula clients, so last night we went to the one about post-partum, and how to read the signals of your newborn. Of course we talked a lot about hunger signs. The presenter showed us pictures and videos of babies searching for something to suck on, and kept saying, "That baby is looking for a boob!" It hurt a little more each time she said it. "Even on dads," she said, and I perked up, "babies will search for the nipple, because they get into that pattern." Drat. Not my kid. My kid can look and look for a nipple, but she will never find one. Finally I raised my hand and asked, "Will these signals be the same for a child who is primarily bottle fed?" She said yes, because my areolas would emit a scent that smells like the amniotic fluid in which the baby has been living inside the womb. I just stared at her and blinked, and managed to say, "Uh-huh..." I almost burst into tears. I want my child to hunt for my amniotic fluid-scented areolas! (I decided it wasn't the right time or context to say, "Yes, okay, and if I don't have areolas?")

I wasn't mad at the presenter - she was great. I wasn't mad at anyone. I was just disappointed and sad. And thanks to my raging hormones, I didn't handle it quite as strongly as I would have liked. After the class, my doulas (who know my whole story and my sensitivity) checked in with me, and I mentioned that that had been hard. One of them sweetly said, "Your child will search for the smell of you." Yes, that is true. And the smell of Michael. (I'd add the smell of Klaus, but let's be honest, he doesn't smell very good.) I know, it will be fine, and we will be wonderful parents and our child won't be lacking at all. I know.

But it still hurts a little.