After I gave birth to Esme and went into heart failure I was of course consigned to bed and put on some pretty hardcore diuretics. The purpose of these was to relieve me of my chest puddle but because cardiologists don't deal with breastfeeding and midwives don't deal with hearts, it didn't occur to anyone that those same drugs would also dry up my milk supply.
When I transferred into hospital I had brought with me a freezer stash of expressed colostrum so I had a little grace, but I soon realised that more was going to be needed or else we were going to have use formula.
When I transferred into hospital I had brought with me a freezer stash of expressed colostrum so I had a little grace, but I soon realised that more was going to be needed or else we were going to have use formula.
It was the only time through that whole month I felt
desperate. I had wanted so badly to feed Esme, and tried so hard to surround
myself with people who support me and now there was something I couldn't
control threatening to stop us before we’d started.
I resorted to a very modern solution and went on Facebook to ask for help
I resorted to a very modern solution and went on Facebook to ask for help
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I was overwhelmed by the response. Several of my friends came to our rescue and a local lady who I had never met offered me a whole freezer stash she was about to send to a milk bank. There was enough to tide us over until I was on the mend.
I was overwhelmed by the response. Several of my friends came to our rescue and a local lady who I had never met offered me a whole freezer stash she was about to send to a milk bank. There was enough to tide us over until I was on the mend.
Keith took on the unenviable role of milkman and ran out
twice a day to collect all the generous donations, baby and toddler in tow. The
kindness of these women clearly had as much of an impact on him as it did on
me.
He was right, there is something about breastfeeding that
seems to motivate women: I don’t know of any other element of birthing that can
inspire women to go that extra mile for strangers.
I happened across a situation myself recently when a complete stranger I spoke to on
Freecycle told me she had been receiving some pretty shoddy care at the hands
of the local professionals which was depriving her of a chance to feed her
baby.
To quote one of my favourite bloggers “my feminist lioness was like “Awww
HAAAAYL NOH! It’s ON! It’s on like DONKEY KONG!””
And so I went on what could charitably be called a phone and
mail rampage to pretty much every person who was going to have no choice but to
be interested in order to try and get her the help she needed.
The questions remains, why did I bother? Her baby won’t die if she has formula
instead of breast milk. She’s not a beloved lifelong friend. Nobody is paying
me to care.
But I do.
For anyone thinking I am going to come to some deep
conclusions, I’m sorry but you've come to the wrong post. I don’t have the answers
to what inspires lactivism, I just know that I feel privileged to be able to pay forward the love and
kindness shown to us in our hour of need.
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