I was in a foul mood this morning and lying quietly in bed listening to the Lucy cat purring softly did very little to alleviate it. Cat therapy can only go so far in combating the general wankery of the population.
Yesterday was my first of two breastfeeding classes. I suspected that I was in for a long three hours when I pulled up behind the instructor's (lactation activist/consultant) caravan and saw the “Babies are Born to be Breastfed!” bumper sticker, which provoked me to say “Oh god, no!” out loud, to myself.
It got a little bit worse, as I was one of only two women out of the five who did not have her partner with her. Three of the women knew each other from previous classes, and after an initial exchange of hellos proceeded to freeze me out of their conversation while throwing pitying glances my way because J did not attend the class with me.(1) The sensation that I had regressed to high school was strong and unpleasant.
The instructor definitely tilted toward the crunchy-granola side of the breastfeeding conundrum. Her general perspective was that all difficulties with breastfeeding could be solved by a correct latch and a close observation of your child's cue, with a few potshots at medicated labor thrown in just to “encourage” the class to stay on the straight and narrow path of the unmedicated.
I prefer realism to relentless optimism. Telling me to “chill”, that I will have an awful start breastfeeding if I end up having a medicate labor, that lanolin will not be necessary because my body will produce enough natural nipple protection and if all else fails, La Leche League is an excellent source of information is NOT reassuring.
Neither is listening to the partner of one woman, when prompted to introduce himself and suggest a breastfeeding myth, launched into a several minute rant against a recent essay, discussing the ways in which certain segments of the population are using breastfeeding as a way of bludgeoning and guilting working women into conforming to a specific ideal and guilting them into leaving the public sphere. Aside from the fact that he missed the point of the essay, his partner admitted later on in the afternoon that she would not be working after their child is born.
I was happy when the class ended half an hour early.
(1)J and I split duties Saturday – I went to the class and he went to a birthday party.
Oh, god, the breastfeeding class. Congrats on surviving it. In ours, there was a couple there that had clearly split up and were sitting on opposite sides of the room. The oblivious teacher asked with annoying perkiness when she saw they had the same last name, "Don't you want to sit together?" Awkward!
ReplyDeleteBreastfeeding was one area that went well for me. As much as I disliked pregnancy, breastfeeding was really good. Three medicated labors, three breastfed kids - first two without any trouble AT ALL. Third had trouble on just one side, oddly - but that didn't pop up until after we were home, and a kind (and not judgmental about L&D) lactation consultant helped.
I found the most laughable advice/comment was, "If it ever hurts, you're doing something wrong." Sorry, but I have sensitive skin and that is a particularly sensitive area and those babies' mouths are like vacuum cleaners with suction cups. I went through a short period of time with each kid when getting the baby latched at each feeding hurt like all get out - just the getting them on initially, the rest of the feeding was fine. Then it got better and we were good to go from there. Worked full-time and pumped after the first two. Worked part time and pumped after the third.
Realism is good. Every kid is different, every nursing relationship is different, and everyone has to figure out for themselves what is going to work.
Wow. That is incredibly awkward. Why did they attend the class together if they were no longer together? Seems kind of strange.
ReplyDeleteI have part II today and may take notes. J is going with me, just as a sanity check to ensure that I have not gone completely insane in my perceptions of other people.
Here is hoping that this class also end early so J and I can go see The Men Who Stare at Goats.