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Many of the stories are accompanied by suggestions from the ubiquitous parenting guru Dr. Then it adds, for good measure, stool with a “buttermilk-like odor” and “nicer skin”—benefits, in short, “more far-reaching than researchers have even dared to imagine.”In 2005, Babytalk magazine won a National Magazine Award for an article called “You Can Breastfeed.” Given the prestige of the award, I had hoped the article might provide some respite from the relentlessly cheerful tip culture of the parenting magazines, and fill mothers in on the real problems with nursing. ”I dutifully breast-fed each of my first two children for the full year that the American Academy of Pediatrics recommends.
William Sears, whose Web site hosts a comprehensive list of the benefits of mother’s milk. Indeed, the article opens with a promisingly realistic vignette, featuring a theoretical “You” cracking under the strain of having to breast-feed around the clock, suffering “crying jags” and cursing at your husband. The root of the problem is not the sudden realization that your ideal of an equal marriage, with two parents happily taking turns working and raising children, now seems like a farce. In the days after my first child was born, I welcomed such practical advice. I may have put in fewer parenting years than he has, but I do have some perspective. I have experienced what the Babytalk story calls breast-feeding-induced “maternal nirvana.” This time around, nirvana did not describe my state of mind; I was launching a new Web site and I had two other children to care for, and a husband I would occasionally like to talk to.
It shows that breast-feeding is probably, maybe, a little better; but it is far from the stampede of evidence that Sears describes.
More like tiny, unsure baby steps: two forward, two back, with much meandering and bumping into walls.
Yet the actual health benefits of breast-feeding are surprisingly thin, far thinner than most popular literature indicates. Or is it this generation’s vacuum cleaner—an instrument of misery that mostly just keeps women down?
the playground last summer, shortly after the birth of my third child, I made the mistake of idly musing about breast-feeding to a group of new mothers I’d just met.
When Angelina Jolie wanted to secure her status as America’s ur-mother, she posed on the cover of W magazine nursing one of her twins.
It turns out to be quite simple: You just haven’t quite figured out how to fit “Part A into Part B.” Try the “C-hold” with your baby and some “rapid arm movement,” the story suggests. I remember the midwife coming to my hospital bed and shifting my arm here, and the baby’s head there, and then everything falling into place. And when I look around my daughter’s second-grade class, I can’t seem to pick out the unfortunate ones: “Oh, poor little Sophie, whose mother couldn’t breast-feed. Being stuck at home breast-feeding as he walked out the door for work just made me unreasonably furious, at him and everyone else.
But after three children and 28 months of breast-feeding (and counting), the insistent cheerleading has begun to grate. In Betty Friedan’s day, feminists felt shackled to domesticity by the unreasonably high bar for housework, the endless dusting and shopping and pushing the Hoover around—a vacuum cleaner being the obligatory prop for the “happy housewife heroine,” as Friedan sardonically called her.
When I looked at the picture on the cover of Sears’s Breastfeeding Book—a lady lying down, gently smiling at her baby and still in her robe, although the sun is well up—the scales fell from my eyes: it was not the vacuum that was keeping me and my 21st-century sisters down, but another sucking sound.
Still, despite my stint as the postpartum playground crank, I could not bring myself to stop breast-feeding—too many years of Sears’s conditioning, too many playground spies.