For the Love of Lactation
We all have a journey…
When people say ‘it takes a village’, I know, I’ve been there. Way back when, in the early 90s, I found myself as a Peace Corps volunteer in Lesotho, Southern Africa, living in a remote village. Lesotho is surrounded by South Africa, kind of the ‘donut hole’ of that country, so most of the men from mid-teens to age 60 left to work in the diamond and gold mines out of economic necessity. The men came back only a few times a year, for plowing season and Christmas & Easter. Which meant that the rest of the time, most of us in villages were female or children, and the women really kept things going.
Birthing, breastfeeding, gathering wood & water, grinding corn, hoeing & weeding the fields, in pairs or small groups, with babies and children of all ages in tow. Women wore their babies wrapped in a cloth or blanket on their back, and breastfeeding just happened, wherever, whenever. Older sisters and brothers would mind the smaller ones. Work was physical, the pace was slow and changed with the seasons. Motherhood was a shared project, and isolation was actually impossible culturally, because no one would ever be left alone there.
Fast forward -- to my return to the U.S., living in a remote, walk-in cabin in Northern California with my partner, now-husband. It felt comfortable to have space, trees, and to walk a lot after African village life. We were expecting our baby in 1997, and I thought, what a perfect, peaceful place to have and raise a baby.
Surprise, surprise…
Even the most supportive partner and perfect place can’t replace the ‘village’. I confess I’m a bit of a warrior, fiercely independent, and often learn by experience -- the hard way. She was a summer baby, arrived in July, and thank goodness she “read the book” and knew how to breastfeed. Because I’d just assumed breastfeeding would be easy, after watching Basotho women doing it like second-nature. The tough part was the isolation and lack of other people for connection and conversation. My partner worked to support us during that time so I could focus on being a mom. We had no phone (this was pre-cell phone) except our neighbor 40 acres away, who had a cell phone the size of a shoe box in their car, basically for emergencies. A few months passed, listening to my own thoughts, doing chores that seemed to never be finished, with my baby pretty much attached to me. Some days I felt “all I did” was feed the baby and maybe get the dishes half-done. Maybe you can relate?
I’m also one of the softest, ‘mushiest’ souls you may ever meet – so, within a few months, I realized this isolation wasn’t healthy. We decided to move to be closer to friends and part of a community. I wanted to pursue more education, and I got through nursing school slowly, starting when our baby was 6 months old and finishing in 2003 when she was almost 6. I’ve been immersed in supporting women’s health ever since and feel it is my calling.
So, please know that I see you. I know parenting is not easy, and even now, with all the electronic connections, we can still feel very alone. People need each other. Most of us do lots of things. Our identities can be shaped as parents, while also juggling work, school and the pursuits that make us richer, more expanded souls. I believe in supporting your breast/chest feeding and parenting journey, however that looks. I’m here to hold space and to be part of this amazing collective that values connection.
Join me on Saturdays starting September 3rd, from 10:30 – 11:30 am for the Lactation Lounge, a circle of connection. Parents and infants of all ages welcome, whether direct breastfeeding, pumping, or bottle feeding a combination of human milk and formula. We can address basic questions & positioning. Group members can share their wisdom & experience. For more complex issues and challenges, a personal appointment is usually best: you can schedule at www.loveblossom.net
Warmly,
Sharon