On nursing and the baby outhouse

I have mixed feelings about nursing.  

The good: We're saving money by not buying formula.  "Experts agree, breastfeeding is best," at least that's what the packages of formula say.  As long as I'm with her, we never have to worry about how long we'll be away from the house and whether we brought enough milk with us.  That also means carrying a smaller diaper bag.  It's natural; I know exactly what she's eating.  And, there are benefits for me too: easier post-baby weight loss, reduced chance of breast cancer and what not.  I also really enjoy all the time for reading I get while Bonnie's nursing.  I often let her keep sucking long after the milk has stopped flowing, because I'm pleased she is engaged in something and quiet.  (I know this is a luxury of a first-time singleton mom, but that doesn't have to keep my from enjoying it while I've got it.)

Also good: products that make nursing in public easier.  I got one of these from the fabulous Jennie.

I wear it every time I'm going out and know I will need to feed The Kins while we're away.  I can pull up my shirt and not worry about showing off my love handles or back flab or underwears.  Nursing in the bleachers at the demolition derby?  Not a problem.  Nursing while sitting on the lawn at the outdoor greenshow at the Utah Shakespeare Festival?  No one even noticed.  In a restaurant without the privacy of a booth?  No sweat.  I really, really like this product.  I also have one of these:

a sarong.  

We can pretend that is my tummy.  However, I don't wear it like this for nursing.  I tie two of the corners together, put my head through the hole, and have a wonderful nursing tent!  The light fabric is 100 times better than sitting under a blanket . . . with another person . . . in the summer.  There is ample fabric.  The Kins likes to grab at the nursing cover and wave her arm around while she's eating.  The little nursing covers or blankets I was using before I made the sarong discovery were a joke.  It was like Bonnie was saying, "Hey, everyone, look at Mom's boobs.  They're right here!  Let me show you."  Now she can wave to her heart's content and we stay covered.  (Side benefit to having the sarong in the diaper bag at all times: we can untie the knots and lay it on the ground for her to roll around wherever we are or leave the knots in and it works as a light and breathable sunshade for the stroller!)

The bad: Nursing bras are terrible.  No support; unflattering; very difficult, time consuming, and expensive process to find one that kind of fits my size.  Enough said there.  It hurt.  For the first two months or so I hurt every time Bonnie fed and periodically for the next two months after that.  Just when I thought the pain was gone, Bonnie grabs now.  She gets full handfuls of me while she's eating and holds on.  Sometimes, if I'm not quick enough for her, she decides to help herself and grabs on to my nipple and pulls it toward her mouth.  So delightful.  I realized earlier this week it was time to trim her nails when I looked down and saw that my chest looked like it had been attacked by a kitty cat.  I look forward to feeling like my body is my own again.

The ugly: I have taken to calling the mother's room at church "the baby outhouse."  When I was first getting the hang of the whole nursing thing it was really nice to have a separate, mostly private room to go to.  I'm over it now.  The chairs in there are gross.  I try not to think about all the bodily fluids that have soaked into the upholstery over the years.  It doesn't look like they've ever been cleaned.  There's a counter for changing and a hand-washing sink in there.  It's a good idea, in theory.  In practice, the presence of this counter turns the mother's room into the baby outhouse.  A whole trashcan full of diapers is just gross.  We have afternoon church, so by the time I'm ever in there, we're at the tail end of two congregations worth of baby and toddler excrement.  Mormons have lots of kids.  Because the baby outhouse is at the exact opposite end of the building from the big people restrooms and because the building is cleaned by volunteers these days, sometimes the trash in the baby outhouse gets missed on the weekly cleaning.  Foul, disgusting, and gross.  After five months I have decided that I am done with the baby outhouse.  Done.  I'm changing her in the bathroom now and disposing of her diapers responsibly in special odor-containing bags.  I nurse her wherever we are when she's hungry.  Last week it was in Sunday School, the week before that in the lobby.  If anyone has a problem with it, he or she can go sit in the baby outhouse!

After my experiences with nursing, I have absolutely nothing to say about any other parent's decision about how to feed their kid, as long as they're getting fed, of course.  I've experienced some good, some bad, and some ugly (I didn't even talk about breast pumps or any self-consciousness about breastfeeding in public, you might have gathered that I have none.) and I say let each parent decide what works for his/her family and leave it at that.