My last post

I haven’t blogged since February and an awful lot has happened since then.

I’m in a permanent job.

Baby B is a toddler now. He can walk and say some words.

He nurses often at night to make up for the day.

I miss him when I’m at work. I don’t think working full time is sustainable in the long term.

I don’t live in Breastfeeding Utopia. I want to. Looking back I think a lot of what I wrote was very jumbled and mixed up but I think the basic premise is still correct:

Having a baby should not preclude a woman from earning money. But earning money should not mean a woman has to leave her baby in the care of someone else, if she does not want to. Women should be entitled to far, far more flexible working arrangements. These arrangements should include but not be limited to: taking the baby to work with her, working from home, working very flexible hours including evenings and weekends and even some form of arrangement where, if the mother is entitled to money towards childcare costs, and she wants to care for her child or children full time, she has access to this subsidy herself.

I also believe that, as the one who carried the baby, and the one who provides the milk, it should be the mother who has first refusal on whether she wishes to be primary carer. If she does not want this role, the father, or mother’s partner should have second refusal and the flexible working arrangements should be extended out to him.

I say the above because I’ve read a lot recently about how (in the UK) maternity leave for women should be cut from nine months paid to six months paid for the mother and three months for the father in order to stop discrimination against working mothers (who are apparently unemployable due to them constantly taking long maternity leaves and leaving poor little businesses in the lurch). I do absolutely believe in extending paternity leave – and extending it drastically. But not at the expense of maternity leave.

It should be made possible for mothers to look after their child or children on their terms – without plunging them into poverty and without entailing huge financial sacrifices.

I haven’t mentioned mothers who want to do paid work in the traditional sense where they work “office hours” and their child is left in some form of childcare. Only because the many problems faced by these women are more “visible” – at least it seems to me – within the feminist sphere. But I don’t want to be all “misty eyed” here and believe that all mothers would want to be with their children “twenty four seven” if it was suddenly arranged that they could do this AND combine it with paid work in some way (home working, working with baby at work, working evenings when baby in bed etc.) Perhaps because the job is too dangerous to have a baby with her (e.g. emergency services) or because she just plain doesn’t want to.

And for these mothers other options should be of the highest possible quality. Does the father / partner want to take over the role of primary carer? He should be as enabled to do so as the mother would be and the mother should be enabled to provide her milk as easily as possible. It would probably take even more of a cultural shift for us to accept a father bringing his baby into work in a sling as he sweats over the accounts, for example, or chairs a meeting, but that needs to happen.

If the father doesn’t want to take on this role either then we should be enabling grandparents, relatives, close friends etc. to take on this role wherever possible. A constant presence in the baby’s life; constant attachment figure. And where this fails – paid childcare should be of the highest possible quality and provided on a one to one or one to very few basis, where the baby or child has access to one person as s/he grows; a nanny, or childminder, or if a nursery, one with an incredibly small staff to child ratio, where each child is assigned his or her own personal carer, and staff retention is high and turnover almost non-existant.

But in these cases, where a parent is not the primary carer, working hours should be such that parents do not miss out on too much! Forty, fifty, even sixty-plus hour weeks are not conducive to a good family relationship! But cutting parents’ working hours down would lead to them being heavily discriminated against in the workplace. Why can’t we cut everyone’s hours? We have the 48 hour working time directive (which most employees are forced to opt out of anyway); why not 40? 37.5? 35? Even 30?

Imagine how full-term breastfeeding and gentle parenting would be aided by all of this. Imagine how society itself would be improved.

People will say – particularly of the idea of taking a baby / child into work – “but you’d never get anything done! Think of the distraction! No one would take you seriously!” and much more – and I say, what was said when women first entered the workplace?

So that’s me. I’m moving to a new blog I think but I’ll leave this one for “posterity”. Bye!

Breastfeeding Utopia

Katie’s little boy, Dylan, is six weeks old and she’s just coming to the end of her “lying in”. She’s had friends over to cook and help with basic chores, her other half, Paul, has also had this time off work, she’s done very little except constantly breastfeed little Dylan and get out every day for some lovely fresh air with Dylan in one of his many slings. He feeds well, and is starting to get to that stage where he’s smiling at Mum and Dad… if they really work hard for it, that is!

Dylan sleeps long periods in the sling, and sleeps with Mum and Dad at night. He’s started to “sleep through the night”. Of course to Paul and Katie, this means that he goes upstairs with them at ten, feeds little and often in a state of light sleep and finally wakes for the day at about eight o’clock. He no longer has dirty nappies in the night so Katie just wraps him up in a huge bamboo nappy with a massive booster pad and he doesn’t then need changing.

Katie’s considering going back to work in about another six weeks. Paul is definitely going back to work.

Seven weeks later Dylan is starting to be much more interested in what’s going on around him. There’s the photocopier, which makes interesting noises, the computer, where Mum Katie is always typing away, the telephone, where she seems to speak to people who aren’t there… it’s most interesting.

Dylan sits in the sling for most of the day, apart from for nappy changes. Whenever Mum thinks he’s about to cry, she plugs him into her milk and away he goes. Katie tries to do as much moving around as possible, as Dylan likes the movement.

In a few months’ time she knows he will be big enough to play in the middle of the huge, circular, open plan office, designed specifically with babies and toddlers in mind. He’ll happily play away with toys and if he needs Mum… he will be able to come and get her. Often a toddler or child is seen rushing to Mum for a “comfort break”; a quick, five minute breastfeeding session to help with a banged knee, or a tired irritable infant. But for now Dylan sits in the sling.

Katie – like everyone, including Dad – works a four day week, nine until five, with an hour and a half for lunch. That’s enough time to enable her and Paul to get home for a meal with baby Dylan onlooking, catch up and give Dylan some Daddy time, and get back to work, as, like most people in breastfeeding utopia, they live locally to where they work; there are schemes in place to encourage this; it’s great for the environment but also great for family life and for children.

And with thirty holidays a year, Katie and Paul get ample time to spend as a family, including Dylan’s Nan, Gran, Grandpa and Granddad, not to mention various Aunties and Uncles (whether related or not)!

The great thing is, because Katie and Paul are happy and not at all guilty about the amount of time they spend bringing up Dylan, they work really hard and get so much done in the time they’re in work.

School doesn’t start here until children are seven years of age; by this time most of these children are at the stage of weaning, or have already weaned; until a child is seven here, it is welcome with its parent at work. There is more of a “creche” facility for the children over four here, with workers taking turns looking after the children, although they are of course welcome to return to their parent at any time. It’s still more often the mother who takes the child to work, as usually these children are breastfed, but because the Mum doesn’t have to choose between work and career… she doesn’t mind.

Jackie has a highly survival adapted baby called Rebekah. Jackie decides not to return to her previous office role but to take up a job as a shop assistant which involves a lot of time on her feet, walking around, as this is what Rebekah likes and what settles her when she’s in the sling. She takes a full year to look after Rebekah; Jackie would tell you that looking after Rebekah is a “job in itself”.

The year off work is of course paid at SNP (statutory nursing pay) which is the equivalent salary of what here would be about £18,000 (plus London weighting for those in the capital). That’s in addition to her maternity leave, which starts two months before her due date and during which time she receives full pay until the baby is born.

Sharon is due to give birth. The thing is, she just doesn’t want to breastfeed. That’s despite it being the cultural norm here in breastfeeding utopia, despite there being so much support here that it’s almost impossible not to be able to do it, despite breasts not being seen as primarily sexual objects here in breastfeeding utopia, despite all that… she just finds something strange about it.

It’s certainly unusual here. She has no problem with giving birth and other baby-related natural functions, just this. She just “has a thing” about breasts, in the same way someone in our world might “have a thing” about feet, and never want to show them, even on a hot sunny day.

No one makes a fuss though, or calls her a bad mother. It’s understood that she just doesn’t want to and it’s rare enough that she, along with low supply Mums & babies with physiological difficulties that prevent breastfeeding, is able to get donor milk to feed her baby.

But we started with Katie. In a few years’ time she will go on to have another baby, Tanya, at home, just like Dylan, who weaned himself at four and a half when he decided he didn’t want milk any more. In fact that was the first she knew that Tanya was on the way, because Dylan told her her milk tasted funny. She will take the full eighteen months with Tanya (longer SNP with a second baby)  and then return to work, just before Dylan is ready to go to school. She hand expresses a little milk every time Dylan has a cold; she openly hoped he might return to breastfeeding when he saw Tanya at the breast but that didn’t happen, so she phoned one of the helplines to tell them her dilemma.

There aren’t as many peer supporters and breastfeeding counsellors now.  Knowledge of breastfeeding is everywhere and there aren’t many problems that other mothers can’t solve or support with. But the lines are open more for emotional support when children wean themselves, as some Mums still find this a little hard, especially if it seems to happen quite suddenly.

Katie gets a shoulder to cry on, and then goes back to her busy life with Dylan and Katie, and hubs Paul. She is happy. This is breastfeeding utopia.

Breastfeeding utopia – part three

A woman has given birth in her home. The family bed is moved downstairs; the woman does little but stay in the bed with the baby and feed her for the first twenty days of the little girl’s life. Friends and family bring round gifts; not dummies, bottles and toys with flashing lights and bells and whistles; they bring round meals, make her drinks, walk her dog and keep her house tidy. They ask her for permission before they take the baby from her for cuddles; she is happy to hand the girl to them though; it is good for the baby.

For forty days she rarely leaves the bed. Her husband has to do little but baby care either; he changes nappies and bathes the baby girl; his wife lies on her back and biologically nurtures the baby, who feeds as and when she wants, suckling to increase the mother’s milk supply until she has fountains of milk.

[Hang on a minute... this sounds familiar. This isn't a new thing in the wonderful world of breastfeeding utopia. This happened years and years and years ago, in the days before bottles and formula; before women were expected to "get back to normal" straight away; when women were given time to practise breastfeeding and time to bond with their babies. This is an ancient practice.]

Breastfeeding utopia – part two

Picture the scene. A game of football; children of infant-school age, about five or six, playing happily with jumpers for goalposts. Suddenly a little girl falls over and scrapes her knee. She runs off crying to Mummy who is sitting by watching with friends. A quick suckle, and a few moments later, everything is all right again. She runs back to the playing field and the game resumes. Move along, move along, nothing unusual to see here.

Move to this world’s equivalent of Mothercare. Sign in the window shows this world’s usual baby-related icons; teddy bear, breastfeeding symbol, sling. The shop sells these items of course, plus extra king size, extra low beds.

Take a walk along this high street and go into the café. Oh look! There’s a breastfeeding room; you get some in the real world as well! No, hang on, it’s just a breastfeeding chair, one of those comfy rocking chairs with stools and breastfeeding pillows. In fact there are quite a few of them. But they’re just out amongst the normal chairs. What does that sign say? “New Mum? Newborn baby? Need a hand? Take a seat and cushion and put your feet up while feeding your baby.” Of course, in this world, it doesn’t need saying that Mums are welcome to breastfeed anywhere they want to.

Breastfeeding Utopia – part one

If we lived in a world that was truly supportive of breastfeeding, what would it be like?

Here are just a few scenarios I could see happening in this breastfeeding utopia.

Scenario one

Antenatal class, second session. Held not in a hospital, but in a local cafe or pub. A woman walks in with a piece of old cloth for each expectant Mum in addition to newborn-sized dolls for everyone.

“What are we learning today?” one asks.

“I’m not sure. You got your list?”

Another pregnant woman pipes up, “yeah, here we are. Hands-free nursing.”

“Ooh that sounds exciting!”

The woman, who has brought her own nursing toddler with her, shows all the women how to tie the knot tightly, how to check baby is at the right level, how easy it is to walk around nursing baby… just then, all eyes turn towards the window.

“There’s an example,” says the mentor. Two women walk past wearing slings, one of the women has a baby in hers, contentedly nursing away. (You can see a lot of breast, but no one bats an eyelid. That’s normal in this world.) The other woman is actually using her sling to carry shopping and a child, probably about four years of age, walks along beside her.

“You can of course buy a nice fancy sling if you want, you don’t have to use an old piece of cloth,” she says, smiling “and when your babe is no longer ‘in arms’ you can use it like that woman, to carry shopping.”

Actually, even as I write down this scenario, I start to think, “surely if this was breastfeeding utopia, these women wouldn’t even need this class? It would just be something that women know, just like women in this real world learn how to feed baby a bottle at a very young age.”

Maybe this is breastfeeding utopia, first generation?

Anyway scenario two.

A playgroup, in which little girls – and boys – are playing with dolls.

“Dollie hungry,” says one girl, and lifts her top to put her doll to her chest. All the other children follow suite, even the boys.

Scenario three

From outside the room, you can hear laughter and friendly chat. It’s like any other work canteen or break room. Actually, not quite. There’s a whirring sound, like an electric motor, from inside.

Let’s go inside and see what’s going on.

Women in suits sit round, eating their butties, sipping coffee (oh, what’s she drinking? Ah, I see, fennel tea) and chatting. And expressing milk. This must be an expressing room for work out of the home Mums.

No, hang on. They’re not all expressing. Three of the women aren’t, anyway… and who is that, in the corner? Oh gosh! It’s a man! In fact, now I look around, there are quite a few men. As many as there are women. And none of them look askance at the expressers. In fact – hang on a minute – I was right all along.

It is just a work canteen, where women just happen to be expressing milk for their babies. This is just normal.

(Perhaps a few generations down the line in breastfeeding utopia, the women have their babies with them in work?)

Scenario four

Millie’s baby never put on much weight; in fact he even lost weight several weeks running. After several sessions with her GP – who is, of course, fully trained, as is every GP in this world, in breastfeeding – she was diagnosed with a very rare condition; not enough milk.

She gets a free supplemental nursing system on prescription.

What should she supplement with? The supermarkets do of course sell totally unbranded infant formula milk which has gone through rigorous testing to ensure it has as minimal a risk as possible to infant health, although of course it’s not human milk, and it does still pose a risk.

Hang on, no, that’s not right. Although that’s a scenario that’s more acceptable than the one we have now, this is breastfeeding utopia.

She gets a prescription for human milk with which she supplements her own feeds. All supplementation is of course at the breast.

Millie’s baby grows happy and healthy.

What happens when he gets to a year old?

Her prescription doesn’t run out just because she “can” give him cows’ milk. It continues for as long as she and her baby wish to carry on nursing.

Ah, lovely. Pity this is the real world.