Why stopping is, now, right for my baby (even if it doesn't always feel right for me)

M is one.

And I have stopped feeding him.

And, in the end, the two are not related.

I'm not really ready to stop.  But the thing is, that this isn't about me, it's about him.

I don't want to stop because I don't want to lose that moment of closeness.  I don't want to lose that little face smiling up at me. I don't want to lose that hand, stroking my face.

But there is no reason to continue.  I read, a couple of weeks ago, a post over at The Mule in response to the Time article showing a mother breastfeeding her three year old.  In it, the Mule asked women who were still breastfeeding past one to post their pictures and say why they were still doing it.

And many of them said "There was no reason to stop". 

I commented on that post, because I said that for me there was no reason to continue.    I had spent time trying to find independent, peer-reviewed research to show health benefits for mother and baby in feeding past one.  But I couldn't.  The WHO recommends breast-feeding for two years, but as far as I can gather that's because they are advising the world, and have to take into account water supplies and adequate nutrition, neither of which are, I hope, going to be a problem for M.

I intend no criticism of those who do feed past one, or two, or more.  But I knew, for me, continuing wasn't about M, who really wasn't very bothered at all, but for me, who was.

So I said I'd stop.  But a week, two weeks, later, I was still going.  Still with no reason to carry on other that that I wanted to hang on to that baby closeness for one day more.

And then I read an article in Saturday's Guardian.  It was one of those articles that had me nodding smugly as it went on about the amazingness that is breastmilk - the perfectly designed cocktail of healthy bacteria it contains, the miracle of oligosaccarides, the fact that no-one really knows how it works - look at me, I thought, I'm such a great mother that I am still giving this to my baby.

Until my smug smile was summarily removed.  Because apparently, as well as this wonderful cocktail of perfection, I'm also feeding him all the toxins I'm exposed to.  All the pesticides, the fire-retardants, the plastics and polymer residues.  And more than that, I'm actually using him as a dustbin for them, off-loading them from the fatty tissues in which they are stored into him as fast as I can.

I have no idea how accurate this research is. I don't know if it has been independently funded (by SMA, anyone?!), or if it has been peer reviewed.  But I do know that this is what happens in the food chain, and I find the logic that it is also happening in me sufficiently compelling that I have stopped.

I can find no reason to continue, and now I have a reason to stop.

Just like that.  I gave M his last feed on Tuesday.  And I took its picture for posterity.


And guess what? He's fine with it.  And so will I be.

Brainwashed by the breastapo

Let's get one thing straight.  Breast is not "best".  Breast is "better".  Unless you think there are more than two options for feeding a new born of course.  Pate de foie gras?  Chicken biryani?  Steak and kidney pudding?

I have breastfed all of my children.  I did it because I believed, as I still do, that it is better for them and for me.  L, A and S consumed nothing but breast milk for the World Health Authority's recommended six months and beyond that they had it combined with food.   It was good for them. They grew and thrived and enjoyed it. 

But M, who is now four months, is different.  He is, clearly, enjoying it, and he is, equally clearly, thriving and developing.  But he is still not, really, growing.  At 19 weeks he's now about twelve pounds (I think), which is significantly smaller than a friend of mine's (admittedly very large) four week old.

He has, thus far, had nothing but breast milk.  And if I want him to put on lots of weight, which he is not at the moment, there is an obvious plan of action.  I can see it.  I can virtually smell it (unpleasant isn't it?). Formula.  Formula fed babies tend to put on weight quicker. They tend to be bigger.  They tend, let's face it, not all to grow up to be psychopathic killers.

But I can't do it.  I have been brainwashed.

I know, logically, that formula is fine. I have many friends who have either never breast fed, for whatever reason, or who have, again for multiple reasons, moved onto formula before weaning.  Their children are all just as exasperatingly,  infuriatingly, lovingly, brilliant as mine (well, not as mine, but as most other people's anyway...).   I also live in a country where I am fortunate enough to have clean water with which to make up my bottles.  Formula is not going to damage my baby.  I know this.

But I don't feel it.  And what's weird is clearly nor do the health visitors.  I think part of this is that although M is small we are not, now, worried about him. He is growing - just not as quickly as most other babies - and  he is tracking the bottom line on the authoritarian charts. He is doing all the things a baby of his age should do and he is happy and smiley with it.  But while no one is worried, we are all agreed that it would be nice if he were a bit fatter.  Yet when I wondered out loud about formula, I was met with looks of horror.

What is that about?  How did we all get so scared of something which, let's face it, the majority of mothers in this country use from birth?   How have we, intelligent women all, become so brainwashed?

How did I allow myself to get to the point where I feel that if I introduce a bottle, I will have failed. I will be that dread being, the bad mother?  And how is it that I know I am not alone in feeling like this?  Why am I ashamed by the thought of giving my baby a bottle in public?  Why is it that I know if I were to do so, I would be judged, and found wanting?  And, most importantly, how does that help the breast feeding campaign? Is this really what they would want?  How is that better for mothers or babies?

I know that formula is not going to hurt my baby, and I also know that if I choose to give it to him it will be for all the right reasons.  Surely that decision, whether made by me or any other mother, should be praised and not condemned.

There is, here, an added level, perhaps.  For me, dealing with three other young and demanding children, the time I spend on the sofa or in bed, M on the breast, secure in a bubble of us, is the best and most focused time I can give him.  He doesn't get much of me and this is something that I can do for and with him, and for him alone.  More than that, it is something that only I can do.  No-one else can (given the lack of wet nurses in the Yellow Pages) do this for my baby.  That feels very important.  I feel, somewhere visceral (or possibly mammarian) that I need M, in years to come, to know that I did this for him, that I loved him as much as his sisters.

But that's stupid isn't it? Because loving him as much doesn't mean treating him in exactly the same way. If formula is right for him then giving it to him is as much an act of love as breast-feeding him currently feels.

So I know all this.  I really do.  But despite that for the moment I'm going to hang on to my time with my tiny boy, and the experience that only we can share.  It just feels, perhaps against logic, right for us. Maybe I really have been brainwashed.

There's no such thing as a "baby essential"

When B and I got married we (I say "we", but what I really mean is "my mother") had arranged for a bus to take guests back from the reception to the various hotels they were staying at.  One couple had come with their then five-week-old daughter.  They had planned not to drink and to drive back to the hotel, but one glass of champagne led to another and 1 o'clock in the morning found them (with the baby, an achievement in itself) on the bus back to the hotel.  Unfortunately the carry cot, the spare nappies, the nappy bag, and all the rest of the paraphernalia were still in the car at the reception.

They are resourceful though, my friends, and so, finding themselves, a little tiddly, in a strange hotel with a new baby, they ransacked the cupboards for spare blankets, padded out the bath, settled her in and had as restful a night's sleep as you can have with a new born and the beginnings of a hangover.

I find myself repeating that story a lot whenever I read another press release about "Baby Must-Haves", normally shortly followed by "Top Unnecessary Buys for your Baby".   Because maybe it's just me but it seemed to me, particularly when shopping for baby things the first time round, that the entire baby stuff industry had, subliminally, one slogan:

If you don't buy this, it means you don't love your baby.

Made me cross then.  Still makes me cross now. Because, in fact, as it turns out, there is only one baby essential you can buy.

A car seat.  Because if you've had your baby in hospital they won't let you go home without one.  The midwives wanted to escort us to our car when we left with M because B hadn't brought the car seat in with him.  They did eventually concede that with three other children to control, it was understandable that he hadn't chosen to lug in a piece of reinforced plastic and it was raining so they decided to trust us, but apparently they shouldn't have. Hospital policy: no car seat; no baby.

But that aside, there is nothing a baby needs that can't be fabricated in extremis.

Cot? Bath, drawer, pushchair, blanket on the floor.  With a big blanket you can make a double bed for two babies and wedge them in on either side with pillows.  I know, I've tried it.

Nappies?  Muslin and a nappy bag with two holes in it for legs (not pretty but it will get you down the hill and into the nearest corner shop, where you can rip open an unpaid for pack of Pampers and stick your baby in one of them in the bread aisle.  It's not the best look for turning up at your husband's godmother's but needs must.)

Clothes?  Amazing how good a look the toga is on a three month old.

You get my drift. 

But I've also found, over the last four years, that while there is nothing you need there is plenty that you might want...

So here it is, my top wish list of lovely baby things.  None of them essential, all of them delicious.  Apart from the breast pads which are most definitely not lovely or delicious, but I wish I'd known about four years ago:

Posh nappy bag.  I just bought myself, on child number four, a swanky leather nappy bag.  It makes me feel feminine and glamorous, no small feat when your nipples are at your knees and you have sick on your shoulder.

Baby Bjorn bouncy chair.  Stupidly, stupidly expensive and I absolutely refused to buy one.  Then we were lent two for S and A and they loved them and used to wail when I used the cheapy one that we had had for L.  When my sister-in-law asked me for baby recommendations I said one of these.  She bought one and about six months later I'm borrowing it from her for M. Feel a bit guilty about that...

Sling.  Doesn't matter what sort, but hands free mobility is a life saver.

Merino stuff.  I'm a complete convert to merino.  It's one of those things, along with Napisan, that Antipodean friends raved about and I thought "yadda yadda yadda, yes it's wool, so what", but then we bought merino grow bags for L and they have lasted her, S and A and are now onto M.  You don't have to worry about tog weights and they last and last and wash in the machine and I could rave about them all day.  And then the lovely people at Nature Shop  (who, as it so happens, also sell the sleeping bags) sent M a blanket (although they call it a wrap) (as modelled above) and me a dress and I love them too.  The blanket is so fine you think it won't do anything but he's slept wrapped up in it every night since he got it, and it makes a splendid toga too (see above).  As for the dress*, well, it's not designed for breastfeeding, but it works (wraparound), and, even better, it makes me look and feel good, and warm, and it goes in the machine.  Genius.

Huge muslins.  Another kiwi thing (top tip, next time you're having a baby, have it in New Zealand, they appear to have all the best stuff).  I have no idea where these came from as a Kiwi friend gave them to me but they're brilliant: muslin, blanket, wrap, tent, breast-hider and picnic rug in one.

Carry cot.  Pushchairs are controversial items. They're so eye-wateringly expensive that everyone you ask has to try and convince you that theirs is the absolutely best one, last word, bees knees thing in baby transport solutions.  Clearly, the right pushchair for me is not going to be the right pushchair for someone else who has different numbers and ages of children living a different sort of life. (Prime example: the pushchair I have now, which  I love, wouldn't have fitted through my front door in London, despite the manufacturers' claims.  Top tip: if buying a side-by-side double pushchair, please measure your door first).  The one thing I would recommend though is that your pushchair has a carrycot.  I love being able to lift M in and out, and in fact he likes his carrycot so much he sleeps in it day and night.  I also love the fact that I can get four children into a pushchair made for two, but that's a different story.

Lansinoh breast pads.  It has taken a great deal of messy market research by me but these are absolutely the best.

And on the same front, lovely dress above notwithstanding, I am a big advocate of breast feeding clothes.  There's something very liberating about being able to feed your baby in public without exposing your post-natal stomach or anything else.  There are all sorts of small companies out there making really nice clothes that don't look "specialist" and are definitely worth supporting (pun intended).

Oh, and Anita make underwired nursing bras.  Genius.

Reading through this list, it occurs to me, not only that this post has got too long as usual, but also how many of these things are for me, and not for my baby.  Now I could, in a spirit of maternal guilt, take that to mean I care more about myself than my baby, but I don't think it's that. Or at least I hope it's not.

In fact, I think I've hit on something more important here than just "lovely new stuff".  I think if there's one thing that really is essential for a baby, it's that its mother is, as far as she is able, happy and comfortable in her new life.  I think even for those of us who are lucky enough to escape any form of post-natal depression, and even fourth time round, it's a huge adjustment and one in which our own identity can easily get lost.  Now I realise that my identity shouldn't be tied up in my physical appearance, but I also know that if I look together, I find it much easier to feel together, and at a time when my identity feels fragmented into disparate parts of 95% harrassed mother and the rest varying proportions of daughter, wife, employee, friend, sister, neighbour, self; nurturing the "self" bit feels like less of an indulgence and more of a necessity.

So perhaps it's not If you don't buy this, it means you don't love your baby, perhaps it should be more If you want to be able really to love your baby, it helps if you love yourself.  Sounds like the sort of thing that you'd buy, laminated, to stick on your fridge.  Doesn't make it not true though.





* This is not a link to the website of the people who kindly sent it to me, as they seem to have taken it off there, but it is the same dress.  Ask them if they can get you one! It's brilliant.

And in the interests of disclosure, Nature Shop sent me the wrap and the dress. They also sent me a really lovely organic cotton baby grow for M.  Everything else I mention in here was either bought with my own money or a present/loan from a friend or family.