Lessons I’ve Learned from My Time in the Rocking Chair

I’ve learned that natural doesn’t mean easy or comfortable. I guess I should have figured this out by looking around at nature! I know I’m not alone! While pregnant with my first baby, I had imagined a cozy, snuggly, lullaby type of breastfeeding. I had taken for granted that we would have privacy. Instead, my nursing career began under the bright, beeping lights of the NICU. I was uncomfortably perched on a high stool surrounded by a group of men and women who had just declared I had five minutes to get my darling baby latched on or they’d feed her a bottle. It was almost 24 hours after her birth. I gathered up my bundle of wires and tubes and baby, and attempted to nurse. I’m fairly conservative. I’ve never worn a bikini to the beach. My shorts tend to be long. I’m also practical. I pulled open my shirt, tried desperately to focus on my baby and not the ticking watches and prying eyes. Blessedly we nursed.

Every baby is different. Every mom is different. Some babies do learn to nurse pain-free. That was rarely my experience. There was generally a transition time as such sensitive body parts adjusted to the constant attention. Sometimes babies have unique physical needs.

I’ve learned physics: Specifically I’ve learned the first law of motion: a body at rest stays at rest and a body in motion stays in motion. The smallest force in the house can cause my mass to stay at rest. My older children are bodies in motion creating all sorts of excitement and mess and noise.

I’ve learned the power of determination: I’ve nursed through surgeries, moves, mastitis, postpartum depression, thrush, latch and supply issues, and the glories of twins.

I’ve learned that the needs of the baby are more important than the sensitivities of the adults: That includes my own sensitivity. I have nursed in all sorts of places, with all sorts of audiences. Although I’ve had many comments and suggestions as to where I should go and why, I’ve had many thousands of experiences with mature adults who understand their role in nursing may be as simple as averting their eyes. One particular experience comes to mind. During the second worst camping trip ever, I found myself on a bus with my wonderful niece and 7 children including 10 month old twins. At some point during our long trip home, the babies became hungry. Buses don’t tend towards privacy. The twins combine to have more hands than I do, so any attempt to cover up, short of a portable personal tent, are futile. Heaven knows I tried! I didn’t let my inability to stay covered keep my babies from getting the food they needed. I nursed my babies. Right there. A few people averted their eyes . . . but that’s all I noticed, because nursing two babies requires a bit of attention. No one said a word. Bless them. Surely skin was showing. Had they seen more skin at the pool that week? Undoubtably. Did some of them keep their opinions to themselves because skin is better than crying babies? Possibly. Their ability to hold their tongues made my situation easier.

I don’t know of exhibitionist nursers. Perhaps they exist, the world is an amazing place. Most breastfeeding mamas are simply trying to feed their babies. I hope that adults can understand that compared to life-giving nourishment a twinge of discomfort is a small matter. When the choice is letting a baby wait for food, surely we can see that an adult turning their head is a small price. Goodness knows I’ve put my own sensitivities aside!

I’ve learned men have an important role in nursing: It’s not just keeping your mouth shut or turning your head. Protect and plan for a nursing women. Consider her needs. I’ve had some fabulous doctors who patiently waited while I nursed, or adjusted the exam to allow for nursing. My brother-in-law welcomed me into the family at the first family activity after our daughter came home. He thanked me for nursing so that his sons would know how they could support their wives and how breastfeeding works. Thanks Dave!

If you are married to a nursing woman, get her water, a pillow, a comfortable chair, do the dishes, the laundry, listen and love her. Sharing your wife with a baby requires sacrifice. Gently educate those around you in the importance of breastfeeding. Help at night when you can, make place for a nap when you can’t. Love her. A loving father in the home is a fabulous support for a nursing woman. The hormones, the sharing your wife, the time, the missed sleep, the interrupted dates . . . it will pass. It is a short time in your married life-unless you are my husband, in which case it will be about twenty years. Bless that guy!

I’ve learned of the power of women: I have learned from so many women: in hospitals, in nursing rooms, at parks and museums and restaurants. I have learned from women online, and in my home or theirs. I’m not sure what they teach pediatricians or doctors about breastfeeding. Few lactation consultants have been helpful to me. One lovely ER physician, upon seeing me in fetal position attempting to deal with mastitis with twins, asked “Is she always like this in the morning?” My husband discussed a few things with him in the hall, educated the physician, then carried me home. I called my midwife and a few other women and got the help I needed. We celebrate and support other amazing physical achievements, but there are few rewards or systems in place to support all night nursing sessions, or growth spurts. Somehow unseen, my body can make the right quantity and quality of breastmilk for a baby -or babies! The supportive power of women is amazing.

Learning at Home
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I’ve learned how to multitask: A few months after my first baby was born, I was asked if I could nurse standing up! NO! Why would I ever do that? After a few babies, I had perfected that skill. Although I will always prefer the rocking chair and a nice book, I can nurse standing up, I can change a diaper while nursing, push a stroller while nursing, pull my 2 year old son away from my daughter with my foot while nursing twins. I never was able to cut a tomato while nursing. That’s my amazing sister’s skill. Necessity is the mother of invention. I’m glad those crazy nursing times were rare. I spent far more time nursing my baby in the rocking chair, snuggling the toddler and reading a book.

I’ve learned that formula isn’t evil: At all. I know some people won’t want me to even mention formula in an article related to world breastfeeding week. True failure in motherhood is not feeding your baby. Motherhood is hard. Contrary to the stories you hear in the news, most mothers are doing the best they can in their very unique situation. I have used formula. More than I am in favor of breastfeeding, I am in favor of feeding the baby.

I’ve learned the power of the rocking chair: The simplest, smallest actions have amazing consequences. Minutes, hours, days and years of time spent cuddled up with babies is time very well spent. It is a privilege. Consider how many children have never spent time in a rocking chair. True power to change the world is found in the home, at the rocking chair, in the peace of a drowsy afternoon, staring into your babies beautiful eyes. How would our world change if every baby and mother had those moments? How can we hold back the financial pressures, the stresses and requirements of careers, and success and life? We clap for sports and movies and music. We applaud amazing discoveries and inventions. Yet the future of the world is far more influenced by what happens in the rocking chair.

About Britt Kelly
Britt grew up in a family of six brothers and one sister and gained a bonus sister later. She camped in the High Sierras, canoed down the Colorado, and played volleyball at Brigham Young University. She then served a mission to South Africa. With all of her time in the gym and the mountains and South Africa, she was totally prepared to become the mother of 2 sons and soon to be 9 daughters. By totally prepared she means willing to love them and muddle through everything else in a partially sleepless state. She is mostly successful at figuring out how to keep the baby clothed, or at least diapered, though her current toddler is challenging this skill. She feels children naturally love to learn and didn’t want to disrupt childhood curiosity with worksheets and school bells. She loves to play in the dirt, read books, go on adventures, watch her children discover new things, and mentor her children. Her oldest child is currently at a community college and her oldest son is going to high school at a public school. She loves to follow her children in their unique paths and interests. She loves to write because, unlike the laundry and the dishes, writing stays done. Whenever someone asks her how she does it all she wonders what in the world they think she’s doing.