I love it when people
request topics for me to write about! Most recently, a friend requested I write
more about breastfeeding, and people’s reactions.
As I said in my last blog about nursing, I have a love / hate relationship with it. One of the best parts is that I can feed him when he is hungry and I do not have to sterilize anything or bring clean water. I HATE cleaning bottles so it rocks that I do not have to.
I was not really able to nurse Sara for various reasons so I was starting new with Sam. For the first couple of months, I was constantly feeding him. When my mom came for a visit, I had hoped to go out shopping with her and bring her to the salons and restaurants. I was so exhausted from the constant nursing all day and all night! I did not feel like I could go out. Plus, how do you nurse a baby in public here? I already get stared at, I cannot imagine nursing in public with all those people’s eyes on me. In the first 3 months, I did not go out much. When we did, I often ended up nursing him in the car while we were stuck in endless traffic jams. A nice part of the clothes here is that they all come with scarves so I always could cover up a bit. I have become quite adapt at nursing discretely.
At my brother's-in-law wedding Sakib would help me find a back room or in one case, I hid behind the stage decorations and avoided the dripping A/C, another time I sat in a deserted corner, as if we were on timeout. I refuse to use bathrooms because it is just too gross.
After a wedding, there are tons of dinner parties to attend. These are at people’s homes and there is always a spare bedroom available. Most Bangladeshi mothers hire a maid / nanny to help them with their children. We had a young girl working for us during Faisal’s wedding and we brought her along to help. She and Sam did not seem to get along all that well so she was not a great help but it was better than nothing. While nursing in the spare room it happened a few times that, a maid would also be in there with another young child. It seems very few affluent mothers in Bangladesh choose to breastfeed. These maids always had kind smiles for me and it seemed that they may appreciate that I was nursing. They also liked to try to help me. I found this more amusing than annoying. One older woman was feeding another baby from a bottle but was much more engrossed in my breast. She was watching me rather intently and then finally tried talking to me. Once it was clear that I had no idea what she was saying to me she got up, walked over and pushed on my breast because she was concerned that Sam’s nose was squished and he would not be able to breathe. Having a stranger poking at me was a bit off-putting but to be honest I was more concerned that she would wake Sam up. The older maid poking at me also reminded me that in the hospital, after Sam was born, a nurse came to help me get Sam latched on. Sam was a good eater from the start so I did not feel I needed her help but she too poked at my breast so Sam’s nose was clear and then tried to get me to do the same. I remember from the breastfeeding part of my birthing classes, in America before Sara, that babies have cool noses that allow them to breathe even if it is squished into the mother’s breast. Also, I figure if Sam was having any trouble he would be sure to let me know.
As I said in my last blog about nursing, I have a love / hate relationship with it. One of the best parts is that I can feed him when he is hungry and I do not have to sterilize anything or bring clean water. I HATE cleaning bottles so it rocks that I do not have to.
I was not really able to nurse Sara for various reasons so I was starting new with Sam. For the first couple of months, I was constantly feeding him. When my mom came for a visit, I had hoped to go out shopping with her and bring her to the salons and restaurants. I was so exhausted from the constant nursing all day and all night! I did not feel like I could go out. Plus, how do you nurse a baby in public here? I already get stared at, I cannot imagine nursing in public with all those people’s eyes on me. In the first 3 months, I did not go out much. When we did, I often ended up nursing him in the car while we were stuck in endless traffic jams. A nice part of the clothes here is that they all come with scarves so I always could cover up a bit. I have become quite adapt at nursing discretely.
At my brother's-in-law wedding Sakib would help me find a back room or in one case, I hid behind the stage decorations and avoided the dripping A/C, another time I sat in a deserted corner, as if we were on timeout. I refuse to use bathrooms because it is just too gross.
After a wedding, there are tons of dinner parties to attend. These are at people’s homes and there is always a spare bedroom available. Most Bangladeshi mothers hire a maid / nanny to help them with their children. We had a young girl working for us during Faisal’s wedding and we brought her along to help. She and Sam did not seem to get along all that well so she was not a great help but it was better than nothing. While nursing in the spare room it happened a few times that, a maid would also be in there with another young child. It seems very few affluent mothers in Bangladesh choose to breastfeed. These maids always had kind smiles for me and it seemed that they may appreciate that I was nursing. They also liked to try to help me. I found this more amusing than annoying. One older woman was feeding another baby from a bottle but was much more engrossed in my breast. She was watching me rather intently and then finally tried talking to me. Once it was clear that I had no idea what she was saying to me she got up, walked over and pushed on my breast because she was concerned that Sam’s nose was squished and he would not be able to breathe. Having a stranger poking at me was a bit off-putting but to be honest I was more concerned that she would wake Sam up. The older maid poking at me also reminded me that in the hospital, after Sam was born, a nurse came to help me get Sam latched on. Sam was a good eater from the start so I did not feel I needed her help but she too poked at my breast so Sam’s nose was clear and then tried to get me to do the same. I remember from the breastfeeding part of my birthing classes, in America before Sara, that babies have cool noses that allow them to breathe even if it is squished into the mother’s breast. Also, I figure if Sam was having any trouble he would be sure to let me know.
Sam hates to be covered
while eating. If I try, he will not eat. He’ll get distracted by the cover-up
and play with it or get mad at it and cry. All his fussing usually causes me to
expose more of myself than if I had not used it at all. I have adapted to this
and I always wear a fitted nursing tank under another top. The bottom layer
goes down, the top layer goes up and I show less skin than the ABC Thursday night
line-up. In Bangladesh, it is more of a conservative culture so I excuse myself
still. On the plane rides and while in America, I fed Sam pretty much from
wherever I sat. When I went to people’s homes, I would announce that I needed
to nurse and gauge their reaction to know if I should excuse myself. I nursed
in malls, one time standing around in the back of a kid’s clothes store. I
nursed at parks, in the back of my church, at restaurants, and everywhere else
we went together. I often had conversations with strangers, women and men,
while nursing. I am not sure if they even knew that Sam was eating or if I was
just cuddling him. I brought the kids rock climbing a couple times, which was
harder to do my shirt trick so I was more exposed then but Sam had to eat.
Through all of this breastfeeding, all over the city, no one ever said a bad
word or made me feel strange about it. The only times I was self conscious about
nursing without a cover was when I was with other moms who were covering while
nursing but even then, it was my own insecurities.
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