Anahi's Birth Story

So, I guess it's about time that I sat down and wrote about Anahi's birth. I've been thinking about doing it a lot over the last three weeks, but every time I go to write it I would get discouraged. I think it has something to do with the fact that I had such a perfect birth, and such a miserable postpartum experience. I guess I've been struggling a lot with postpartum depression and when I am depressed it is really hard to write. But Anahi deserves to have her amazing birth story told, so here it goes.

On Thursday, August 6, I went into labor. Kind of. I had been having consistent contractions all day, but I didn't want to start timing them. That day I was exactly 37 weeks pregnant and could officially give birth at Baby + Co., the birth center I had chosen. I thought it was funny that my contractions had started that day and thought that maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me. Around 2:30pm I finally started timing my contractions. They were about 5-10 minutes apart. They weren't super painful, but my contractions in my first birth never really were either.

Diego got home around 4pm. I'd been having contractions 5-10 minutes apart for an hour and a half and I was now having intense pain on my right side. I got into the tub to try to slow down the contractions, but the pain continued. I called the birth center and they told me to come in because it sounded like I was in active labor.

During the hour drive to the birth center, a million thoughts ran through my head. I was worried that we wouldn't make it in time and the baby would be born on the side of the freeway. The pain on my right side was so intense, but I tried to stay calm and work through it. When we arrived at the birth center the midwife checked my cervix. I was dilated to 4cm. I got in the tub to try to ease the pain.

After about an hour, my contractions had slowed considerably, but the pain in my right side was horrific.

"I don't think this is true labor," one of the midwives told me. My heart sank. If this pain wasn't labor, what was it? I started to get scared that something was seriously wrong with me. This fear only intensified the pain. I got out of the tub and they hooked me up to a machine to monitor my contractions. They were more sporadic now and not painful at all. I stayed at 4cm the entire time.

The midwife had me take an antacid for indigestion and after 4 hours at the birth center, I went home feeling stupid and upset. I tried to wait as long as I could to go in. I didn't want to drag my husband and my two year old daughter all the way to the birth center for a false alarm. But it was a false alarm.

The next day the pain on my right side returned so strong that I was in tears. I finally called the senior missionaries in our ward to give me a ride to the ER. When I got to the ER they took one look at my pregnant belly and told me that I needed to go to Labor & Delivery.

"I'm not in labor, though," I told them firmly as they all gave me incredulous looks. I explained that I wasn't having contractions, just really bad pain on my right side that I was afraid might be something wrong with my gallbladder or appendix. The sent me to Labor & Delivery anyway, and in a wheelchair, even though I insisted that I could walk just fine.

I was in Labor & Delivery for about an hour. They checked my cervix again: still at a 4. They did blood tests to check if anything was wrong with my gallbladder or appendix. The tests all came back fine. The midwife at the hospital told me that it was just round ligament pain and the only way to cure it was to have the baby.

I went home again feeling silly that I had made a big deal out of "nothing." (Even though the excruciating pain on my right side didn't really feel like nothing to me.)

Three weeks passed. Three long, frustrating, emotionally-draining weeks. I continued to have contractions almost every day. The pain on my right side did eventually fade and completely disappear. Some days I would have consistent contractions for two to three hours. I kept thinking, "It's going to be today!" But it wasn't. I didn't want to drive an hour back to the birth center for nothing. I told my husband I wouldn't go back in until my water broke.

At 1am in the morning on August 27, my due date, my water broke. It was like I'd always heard, there was a "pop" and then a gush of water. I jumped out of bed, over Lucia, my two year old, who had decided to join us in bed about 2 hours earlier. I quickly put on a heavy duty pad so that I wouldn't leak all over the place. I woke my husband up and told him that my water had broken and we should start getting our stuff together to leave.

I was having contractions, but because I'd been having them almost every day for three weeks, I hardly even noticed them. But I knew that if my water was broken, and I was dilated to at least a four, the baby was sure to come sometime that day. I was surprisingly calm as I gathered up all of the last minute things on my list and stuffed them into my birth bag. Lucia was awake. I changed her diaper and put shoes on her and told her that her little sister was on her way.

I called the birth center and got their answering service, which is who answers after hours. They put me on hold as they tried to get the midwife on call on the line. They said they couldn't get her but they had left her a message to call me back ASAP. We finished packing up everything in the car and started our hour drive to the birth center.

About 10 minutes into our drive the midwife called. She calmly asked what was up. I explained that my water had broken and we were headed to the birth center.

"Well, hold on," she said, "how are your contractions?" I told her that I'd been having contractions for three weeks and I knew that I was already dilated to at least a 4cm and that we had to drive an hour to get to the birth center. I wasn't sure how fast the baby would come, but I didn't want to take the chance of having her on the side of the road.

"Well, our records show that last time you were only at 2cm," the midwife responded. I don't know what records she was reading, but they certainly weren't mine. She asked me how far apart my contractions were.

"I don't really know, I haven't been timing them," I said. Then I felt one. "Hang on," I said, "I'm having one now." The midwife seemed to think that if I sounded so calm and could talk through a contraction that I must not really be in active labor. I was getting frustrated and tried to explain that I talked all through transition in my first labor.

She told me that there was no one at the birth center, that it wasn't open until 8am.

"Do I have to go to a hospital then?" I asked incredulously. At this point I was on the verge of tears.

She said that we should call when we were about a half hour away and she would head over.

We got to the birth center at 2:45am. When the midwife checked my cervix I was dilated to 6cm. She then believed that I was actually in labor.

It was just me, my husband, Lucia, the midwife, and the nurse at the birth center. I was hoping Lucia would go back to sleep. We put on a movie for her and asked her to lay down, but she didn't fall asleep. She wanted to be with me. I was doing fine, walking around and breathing through contractions which were coming every 3 to 5 minutes. I had messaged a couple of friends that had said they would help with Lucia at the birth center, but I figured they were still asleep.

Around 5am the contractions were getting a little more intense and I decided to get in the tub. Lucia was still awake and quietly playing games on the tablet in the corner of the room. I was worried about her being there when things started getting really intense. In between contractions I was desperately trying to find someone to come and stay with her. I was calling everyone I could think of, but it was still early and most people were still asleep.

I love the tub!!

"I think I'll just stay in here forever."

I listened to a meditation recording that my doula from my first labor had made. It helped me to stay calm and focused through the contractions, which were now coming every 2-3 minutes. I was starting to feel a lot of pressure, but I didn't want to even think about pushing.

I explained to my midwife that pushing was the worst part about my first labor. I pushed for three hours with the nurses and eventually the OB yelling at me to push harder and counting and making me hold my breath. She assured me that this time would be different but I had to get over that mental block that kept me from pushing. We decided that she would check my dilation to see how I was doing around 6:30am.

At 6:30am I was dilated to 8cm. I still hadn't gotten a hold of anyone to take care of Lucia. At this point I figured she could just stay with us, since I was obviously in transition and she was doing just fine.

About an hour later I could feel more pressure with each contraction and I threw up twice. I kept thinking how horrible pushing was and wished I could just stay in the tub and continue having contractions, which I didn't think were so bad. There was another fear, though, besides pushing. It was harder to explain. It was a fear of having another baby. I'd been having a lot of depression in the last 3 weeks and questioning whether or not I was ready to have two children. I wondered if I could love this baby as much as I loved my first. I worried about how this new baby would change our family dynamic. All of these doubts and fears made me want to push even less. I knew that the moment the baby was born, my life would change forever.

Around 8am the first midwife left and two other midwifes came on. These two I had gotten to know a lot better during my prenatal visits and I was so happy to see them. Lucia had finally fallen asleep on the bed in the room.

By this time I knew I was completely dilated and felt like pushing, but I didn't want to. I kept being reassured by the midwifes that I needed to push my baby out, that I didn't need to be afraid. They were right, it was completely different from my first hospital birth. There was no yelling, no telling me to hold my breath and count to 10. But I was still afraid.

Lucia woke up around 9am. I was afraid I would be in labor forever and worried that everyone was getting tired of waiting for this baby to come. The midwifes were patient and kind. They kept reassuring me that I could do this. Around 9:30am, one of the midwifes suggested I try to go to the bathroom to see if that would move the baby's head down further. I finally got out of the tub and hobbled to the bathroom. I thought I would have the baby on the toilet, I kept having an incredible urge to push. While I was on the toilet the midwife checked my dilation one last time. I was at 10cm. I had probably been at 10cm for about an hour.

They suggested I try bearing down on a birthing stool out of the water. I made up my mind that I just needed to get over my fear and push. I squatted on the birth stool and with the next contraction I pushed as hard as I could. It hurt so bad that I started to scream. After 8 hours of laboring in almost complete silence, I was now screaming at the top of my lungs. It was so painful but so exhilarating, like riding a roller coaster. Terrifying, but amazing. Lucia didn't think it was so amazing. My screams scared her and I could hear her on the bed saying, "Mommy?? Mommy?" One of the receptionists from the center came and took her out of the room. I was grateful that she was not alone. My husband was in front of me, coaching me to keep pushing.

On the second push I continued to scream as loud as I could and was able to push my baby out completely. I'd only pushed for about 10 minutes, which was a huge improvement to the 3 hours I'd pushed before. With the help of the midwife I brought my daughter directly up to my chest. I was ecstatic that I had done it, but I noted that the midwifes seemed a bit worried. I noticed there was a lot more blood than normal. In fact, there was blood everywhere.

"Am I hemorrhaging?" I asked, now suddenly concerned. The midwife quickly told me I wasn't, but that I had had a hematoma form while pushing. Apparently, according to my husband, he watched the blood vessel break and fill up with blood to the size of a baseball on the first push. On the second push the blood vessel ruptured and the blood went all over the place (hence all the blood).

They let the blood finish pulsing through the cord while I sat on the birth stool and then Diego was able to cut the cord. They then had me lay on the bed with my baby. She was beautiful, she looked just like Lucia, with a full head of jet black hair. As soon as I was on the bed, Anahi started to breastfeed and I tried to focus on that while the midwife drained the hematoma and stitched me up. I had hardly torn my perineum at all, but the hematoma needed to be stitched.

Because of swelling, more bleeding, and almost passing out twice, I had to be transferred to the hospital, where I stayed for two more days. But that's a postpartum story, not a birth story, and this birth story is long enough.

Besides the hematoma, I had the perfect birth that I wanted. I felt empowered the entire time, especially during pushing, which had been my biggest fear. I was absolutely elated that I had pushed my baby out despite all the pain. I was told later by my midwife that most of that pain I experienced during pushing was probably due to the hematoma forming and rupturing anyway.

So that is my perfect birth story. Just the way I wanted it. At 9:50am, Anahi Micaela Cabrera was born, while I screamed as loud as I could and blood spewed all over the place. It was beautiful and incredible and so real. And I shouldn't have had any fear about my capacity to love her, because I have adored her every second since she came into this world.

With the two loves of my life after being transferred to the hospital.

The Day I Almost Quit 100 Happy Days

It was June 5, day 65 of my 100 Happy Days challenge. Over half-way through, I felt pretty upset about quitting.

"But that's what you are, a quitter."

That was my depression. She has a nasty voice that sounds like mine when I'm at my meanest.

"Why did you think you could be happy for 100 days straight? Are you kidding? You're never happy."

My rational voice tried to protest by saying that I'd already proved to myself that I could do it for 64 days. But when I'm depressed, my rational voice is just a really soft mutter.

I don't even remember why I was depressed that day. Sometimes (actually, most of the time) there isn't even a valid reason. Something small might tip me off and then I'm down a dark hole faster than Alice in Wonderland.

The whole reason I had started the 100 Happy Days challenge in the first place was to help with my depression. Especially since my husband left to train with the Army for 6 months, being happy seemed like an impossible task. But structure and goals seemed to help quite a bit, so this challenge was perfect.

I'd seen some of my friends posting their challenge pictures on Facebook and wanted to give it a go. There had definitely been some sad moments in the first 64 days, but I was always able to find something to be happy about during that time, even if it was something as simple as a bowl of ice cream after finally putting my baby to bed.

Not Day 65 though. For some reason I couldn't get out of my hole long enough to find something positive about my most-likely uneventful day. I'd probably just stayed home all day, in my pajamas. Maybe I'd made goals and plans for the day and not done any of them. Maybe I just felt like a waste of space, and it was all I could do to feed my baby and keep her happy between waking up, nap time, and bedtime.

"You did nothing today, you loser. What do you have to be happy about?"

Snarky ugly depression voice. I really hate her, and she sure is loud.

Then I heard a very soft voice say, "Well, there is always tomorrow."

And suddenly, that was my happy thought for the day. Days could get really bad, but the sun always comes up the next day with new opportunities and new surprises.

Maybe I hadn't been productive or positive that day, but it didn't mean I had to stay down in the dumps forever. Tomorrow comes and we get another chance. If that doesn't make everyone happy, I don't know what will.

Today I posted my last "100 Happy Days" picture to my wall on Facebook. I'm so glad I didn't give up, and didn't pay attention to that awful mean voice in my head that kept telling me I'm a quitter. I have learned so much in the last 100 days, but most importantly that happy does not depend on your circumstances, but rather on your choices.

There have been sad days during my 100 Happy Days, but I've been able to find at least one happy thing each day, despite what may have happened. Most days I could have posted a ton of pictures of what made me happy that day.

To make sure I got my challenge done, I would start each day thinking, "I wonder what I'll post today." Then throughout the day I'd make sure to take a picture, or find a picture online to represent what happiness I'd found in the day.

So, to my obnoxious depression voice--IN YOUR FACE! I WON!

She may always be around, trying to bring me down, but now that I've been happy for 100 days, I will continue to look for the happy every single day for the rest of my life. Because once you've developed that habit, it's hard to break.

What is Consent and Why I Wish I'd Known Before

Last month was Sexual Assault Awareness Month and I was so blessed to listen and participate in a presentation given by two college age young women in our church congregation to a group of high school and middle school girls.

After listening to statistic after statistic and story after story, I felt like I could talk forever about the importance of taking charge of your own life and never letting anyone take your power away from you. A thousand ideas whirred around in my mind in cluttered commotion. I haven't managed to find the time to get them all organized, but you'll probably be seeing a lot more blog posts on the general topic.

This is the first I wanted to address, because it is something I didn't know, and now I want to share it with everyone else.

What is consent?

From Google:

"Consent is an agreement between people BEFORE they engage in any kind of sexual activity. Both people have to say “YES!” clearly and freely. Sexual activity without consent is sexual assault or rape. Consent must be willing."

From ConsentEd:

"A voluntary, enthusiastic “yes-I-really-want-to-and-thank-you-for-asking” type of consent – not a consent that’s implied on the basis of silence, previous sexual history, or what the person is wearing."

"If you are ever unsure if the person you are with is consenting, just stop and ask."

From Break the Cycle and the National Dating Abuse Helpline:

"You may have heard the idea that “no means no,” but this doesn’t really provide a complete picture of what consent is because it puts the responsibility on one person to resist or accept. It also makes consent about what a partner doesn’t want, instead of being able to openly express what they do want."

"Some people are worried that talking about consent will be awkward or that it will ruin the mood, which is far from true. If anything, the mood is much more positive when both partners are happy and can freely communicate what they want. "

Why I Wish I’d Known Before

So now that you have the basic idea, I'd like to explain why I wish I'd known this before.

I want to say that I am not a rape victim. However, without diminishing the seriousness of rape, I would like to suggest that consent doesn't always have to be about sexual intercourse. It can start with something so much simpler, like hand holding.

As a teenager, I can't tell you how many times I went on dates and ended up holding hands with boys I didn't really like. Or maybe I liked them a little, but wasn’t really sure I wanted to hold their hands. I can remember sitting at a play on a date and out of nowhere my hand was suddenly sweating like crazy in the pasty sweaty hand of the boy next to me. Sure, we were on a date. But I really didn't want to be holding his hand. At the time though, I didn't realize that I could say no. I didn't want to "hurt his feelings."

I wish I had known that I could have taken my hand back and said, "Mm...I don't really want to hold hands right now." Or that I could have just taken my hand back with no explanation at all.

Things escalate quickly, and hand holding can get to body fondling faster than some teens may realize. It is so important that in every stage of dating we have a right to give or reserve our consent.

When I first heard about our right to consent at this workshop, it felt so foreign to me. (A sad result of cultural conditioning.) But as I mulled the idea of always being able to say yes or no, it made complete sense. Lack of communication ruins relationships, so why not start off right from the get-go by always communicating consent? It’s not a question of “being mean,” it’s a question of feeling safe and comfortable with those you associate with.

Women (and men!) should never be pressured into doing anything they don’t want to do (be it kissing, hand holding, sexual intercourse) just because they don’t want to offend someone else. Communication is key; so make sure to speak up!

If you want it, GREAT! There are beautiful, wonderful relationships out there, with mutual consent. I’m in one of those, and it’s the best thing that has ever happened to me. But I know how ugly it feels to not want something and to feel like you don’t have an option.

You should always have an option, and that’s consent.

If you aren’t given the option, and are able, get out of the situation as quickly as you can! Don’t wait until it comes down to sex. If you don’t want to hold hands, don’t. If you don’t want to be kissed, say no. Make sure you have the power from the beginning.

Three Questions about Breastfeeding that Every Man and Woman Should Consider

It’s interesting how social media and the ever increasing allure of being constantly connected to others through the internet and public forums has exponentially intensified controversies that may have existed before, but on a much smaller scale. For example, last night I came home from work and said to my mom, “I have an idea for a new blog post. I’m going to write about the breastfeeding controversy.”

My mom’s reply was, “I didn’t even know there was a breastfeeding controversy.”

The truth is, as of maybe a year ago, I didn’t either. However, a couple of significant things have happened since then. The first and most important, I believe, is that I gave birth to my first child and subsequently joined the ranks of breastfeeding mothers. Another significant manifestation is the constantly growing conversation that has been brought to the public through blogs, media, and even Facebook posts.

I realized how big this controversy really is last night as a simple post on breastfeeding quickly escalated to a heated debate between Facebook friends. I started to do some more digging and formulated in my mind three important questions that I would like to address.

1. In the course of American history, when did it become unacceptable for a woman to breastfeed in public?
2. Why does seeing a woman breastfeed make people so uncomfortable?
3. Is it really that important of a controversy? Can’t women just suck it up and stay at home? Or find some alternative to evade the discomfort of others?

Each question is a bit complex, and I do not claim to have the “true” answers. But here are some of my ideas (backed up by some research).

When did it become unacceptable for a woman to breastfeed in public?

This question is pretty tricky. From what I’ve read, observed, and researched, it seems like support of public breastfeeding has fluctuated throughout modern history. I have no supporting documentation, but I believe public tolerance for breastfeeding strongly correlates with the availability of breastfeeding alternatives. When a woman had no option but to breastfeed she could either stay in her house all day long (literally a stay-at-home mother), or go about her business and breastfeed when needed in the public sphere.

When the United States first gained independence at the end of the 18th century, and well into the beginning and middle of the 19th century, I have found that there was much more public support of breastfeeding.

In her book, Breastfeeding Rights in the United States, Karen Kedrowski comments,

“...maternal breastfeeding became almost an emblem of new democratic ideal, as images of ‘nature’ were linked with equality, the rejection of decadent, aristocratic ‘culture,’ and the rising health and wealth of the middle class of the young nation.”

Art where women are depicted breastfeeding in public was not uncommon during this time. However, things began to change as the 19th century came to a close.

According to the article A History of Infant Feeding,

“In 1865, chemist Justus von Liebig developed, patented, and marketed an infant food, first in a liquid form and then in a powdered form for better preservation...By 1883, there were 27 patented brands of infant food...As formulas evolved and research supported their efficacy, manufacturers began to advertise directly to physicians...By the 1940s and 1950s, physicians and consumers regarded the use of formula as a well known, popular, and safe substitute for breastmilk. Consequently, breastfeeding experienced a steady decline until the 1970s.”

I spoke with my grandmother last night in doing some personal research on breastfeeding trends. She is the oldest woman I currently have contact with (she’s not even that old, born in 1937). She was breastfeeding her first child in the early 1950s and subsequently breastfed six more children until the 1970s. When I asked her if she breastfed in public she replied that while she did, she always covered up. She also replied that breastfeeding was not really encouraged when she was a young mother, and that people relied more on formula and bottle-feeding.

There was a resurgence of breastfeeding popularity in the 1970s, but it seems that trend has since reversed in contemporary times. Public opinion on women breastfeeding in public seems to be tolerance at best, and that is only if women are overly discreet and covered.

It seems to me then, that the general acceptance and even celebration of public breastfeeding all but disappeared with the introduction of formula.

Why does breastfeeding make people so uncomfortable?

The arguments I have heard against a woman breastfeeding in public have varied, but normally have similar roots. Most people I have talked to have stated that it doesn’t matter what she is doing, a woman “exposes” herself when she breastfeeds. I read comments of people who have compared breastfeeding to publicly urinating or running around naked.

According to a study done by two Canadian geographers, P.K. Spurles and J. Babineau,

“The roots of these restrictive attitudes are different for men and women. Whereas women tended to express concern about disruptions to social relations, even with unknown others, men tended to express discomfort related to fears of being perceived as deviant [a pervert]. Statements about appropriate places for breastfeeding were expressed in a rhetoric of rights and legislation in only 1 instance; concerns for the infant’s and breastfeeding woman’s physical needs were addressed only when affirming breastfeeding in public or social contexts.”

In my personal investigation, I have yet to speak to one woman who opposes public breastfeeding, mother or not. (Although I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard to find one.) Personally, before becoming a breastfeeding mother, seeing women breastfeed in public was strange, but not overly offensive or uncomfortable for me.

Yet nearly every man I have ever talked to is strongly opposed to public breastfeeding, unless a woman is adequately covered, in which case some leniency is expressed. Some theories I have heard about men being so uncomfortable with exposed breasts, even minimal exposure for breastfeeding, is the sexualization and objectification of women. Their objections, “appear to indicate a widespread discomfort with the biological function of an organ that has acquired sexual connotations in American culture” (Kedrowski).

According to Karen Kedrowski,

“The evidence clearly seems to suggest that the contemporary fascination with the breast as a sexual object reflects a culturally determined, rather than a biologically inherent, obsession. Within Western societies, Marilyn Yalom has traced what she sees as a shift from the sacred breast, celebrated in both prehistoric and Christian medieval cultures, to increasingly prevalent representations of an erotic breast beginning in the Renaissance, frankly depicted as the desired object of the male sexual gaze. The idea that the breast can mean different things, or, at the least, that different dimensions of its meaning can be accentuated, during different historical eras seems to reinforce this emphasis on the culturally determined, rather than the biologically based, meaning of the breast.”

While the sexualized nature associated with the breast may play some part in people's awkwardness to breastfeeding, I do not believe it is the principal explanation.

I talked briefly with several men last night, and all but one opposed breastfeeding in public. That one was my husband. My husband grew up and lived in Peru up until last year, when he came to the United States (to marry this awesome American girl, haha). In Peru, along with every other Latin American country I have lived in, breastfeeding in public, uncovered, is normal and widely accepted.

So I asked myself, “Do hispanic men generally not sexually objectify women as much? Do they respect women more?” My personal experience in these countries (I’ve lived in Mexico, Honduras, and Peru) would indicated otherwise. In fact, I have felt more sexually objectified from 10 minutes of walking down a street in Honduras than I have in my entire life.

So why this distinct difference between these cultures in tolerance for public breastfeeding? I concluded that is has to do with exposure and cultural conditioning. When I asked my husband if he knew if women generally covered up breastfeeding or if they breastfed a lot in public in Peru, he just shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he said, “It’s not like I really paid attention. It’s just something normal that women do.”

On the other hand, when living in other countries, public breastfeeding has always caught my attention. I think this is because of cultural conditioning. I never see women breastfeed in public in the United States. Growing up, I don’t even really remember seeing my mom breastfeed my own brothers and sister, though I’m sure she did and I was pretty young. The point is, the less we see it, the more of a novelty it becomes, and the more unacceptable. It is not a question of right and wrong at this point. Historically, even the most religious zealots found nothing wrong with a woman’s somewhat exposed breast in order to feed her child. Though possibly influenced by the sexualization of the breast and the sexual objectification of women, it is more a question of the cultural condition of both men and women in the United States.

Okay, last question. Kudos to you if you’re still reading up to this point.

Is it really that important of a controversy? Can’t women just suck it up and stay at home? Or find some alternative to evade the discomfort of others?

If there is one thing all professionals in the medical and scientific fields all agree on, it is the supremacy of breast milk to that of formula or other breast milk alternatives. According to the article, Breastfeeding: social, economic and medical considerations, “Even though awareness of the benefits of breastfeeding is widespread, the motivation to breastfeed is not.”

According to S. Matthew Stearmer in his Masters’ dissertation on women breastfeeding in public,

“As long as the woman is behaving like a man she is typically allowed any space she chooses. Mothers however potentially create private space out of any public sphere they occupy by nature of how they chose to use the space. If a mother chooses only to shop then public space remain simply public. But if her baby is in need of food there is a breach in the de facto nature of that space. The mother who chooses to breastfeed calls into question the use of the space and her action requires a response to the changing definition of the space. Breastfeeding then creates a quandary over public vs. private space. Unless women are to be excluded from the public sphere while they are breastfeeding, society must begin to recognize its place in public. Even without considering women in the workforce, women are always in the public sphere. They work, serve, shop, recreate, lobby, etc., all in public space. This work cannot halt just because a woman has had a baby and must now feed it. As a society we need all of a mother's contributions, during the whole of her life time and the whole of her life experience. However, her ability to fully engage in life is limited by society's acceptance of her breastfeeding in public.”

So, yes, it is important. And yes, your opinion does matter. I, personally, have no problem breastfeeding uncovered in front of others. But the opinion of others matters to me, and so out of respect I try not to do so. I’ve tried the whole cover thing. It is a LOT harder than it looks. And I refuse to lock myself in a gross stall of a public bathroom in order to feed my baby.

According to A Qualitative Study of Attitudes Toward Public Breastfeeding Among Young Canadian Men and Women,

“Lack of public support and approval is cited by breastfeeding women as factors that discourage breastfeeding, and familiarity through exposure to breastfeeding is associated with increased approval and intent to breastfeed one’s own children. As such, understanding the content, in addition to the magnitude and direction, of public attitudes about breastfeeding is significant.”

In talking to some male co-workers last night, I asked one, “Would your opinion about breastfeeding in public change if you knew that ‘all 50 states have passed legislation that either explicitly allows women to breastfeed in public, or exempts them from prosecution for public indecency or indecent exposure for doing so’?” His answer: No.

Then I asked, “Would it change if your wife was an emotional wreck after giving birth, struggling with breastfeeding in the first place, and then on top of everything the blanket she is trying to keep over your baby’s head keeps falling off her shoulder?” Again: No.

So listen, I am well aware that this blog may do nothing to change the opinions of people. But learning more about breastfeeding, its importance in the lives of infants, and the effect of public attitudes has changed my opinion, so I’m assuming it might help others. So spread the word! Knowledge is power!

References:

Boyer, Kate. “The way to break the taboo is to do the taboo thing” breastfeeding in public and citizen-activism in the UK. Health and Place, 2011, Vol.17(2), pp.430-437, 2011

Kedrowski, Karen M. Breastfeeding rights in the United States. Westport, Conn.: Praeger Publishers, 2008, xiii, 175 p.; 25 cm.

Spurles, PK; Babineau, J. A Qualitative Study of Attitudes Toward Public Breastfeeding Among Young Canadian Men and Women. Journal Of Human Lactation, 2011, Vol.27(2), pp.131-137, 2011

Stearmer, S. Matthew. A European case study on the intersection between public and private space : increasing breastfeeding rates in a modern world. Thesis (M.S.)--Brigham Young University. Dept. of Geography, 2010., 2010, vii, 120 p.: maps; 28 cm.

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