BREASTFEEDING 101

In recent years there has been a fair bit of controversy related to the subject of breastfeeding.

Whether it should be relegated to a stall in the women’s bathroom. Whether it should be permitted in public. If so, whether the breast should be covered or uncovered. Whether when nursing an infant an uncovered breast should be construed as a breach of public decency, and subject the owner of the offending organ to arrest.

And by extension, whether or not women should have the same rights as men to “strut their stuff” on a public beach. (In recent years, a couple of women who had undergone bilateral mastectomies have “pressed the envelope,” and appeared topless at their neighborhood pools; to mixed reviews).

In my ministry as a Christian therapist, I have had very little personal ‘exposure’ to the controversy; with one possible exception. In this role I have sometimes been forced to meet with my clients alone, as there has not always been another staff member at the church; especially in the evenings when my clients are most available to meet with me. However, one woman, in particular, was reticent to visit me alone. Having explained my limitations, she finally found a way to make it happen.

One evening as she rang the doorbell, and I greeted her at the foyer door, I noticed she’d brought a baby with her. Having navigated the two flights of stairs, stepped into my office, and taken a seat on the proverbial counseling couch, we began with prayer, and I invited her to voice anything new she wished to address.

Pt. 2

Suddenly, “right there in front of God and everybody” this supposedly reticent, reserved young lady unbuttoned her blouse, pulled out her left breast, and positioned her newborn against her, well, you know. Billy Joel sings a song, “And so it goes.” Well, in this case, “and so it went,” (and went and went). Twenty minutes later, after having tucked the one ‘dispenser’ back in, and exchanged it for the other, she finally finished the laborious procedure.

After recovering from the initial shock, and the dynamics of, as it were, her shutting off one tap and opening the other, I got through the session. (To the best of my recollection, “Emma” refrained from bringing her infant son to subsequent meetings with me).

Six or eight years ago, I heard a piece on National Public Radio about a lady zoo keeper; who happened to be a nursing mother. As it fell together, she was tending a couple of orphaned tiger cubs in her home. (Perhaps you can see where this is going). And as you might have already guessed, she took it on herself to share her liquid white bounty with the (drum roll) baby felines.

Later, I saw a picture of the trio on the internet. “Margaret” is seated on the floor of her living room, her back to the wall, shirt unbuttoned to the navel, and with a “tiger on each teat.” (Yes, that’s the proper word for that particular portion of the anatomy).

Speaking of counseling, after I returned from my office today, and sat down to watch a “Believe It or Not” type game show, the contestants entertained a question about a potential scenario involving (you guessed it again) breastfeeding.

It seems that six men and six women were on board an ocean going yacht a few years back, and they encountered a serious issue with the inboard engine. And not being able to repair it, and, (for whatever reason) not having access to a radio, they drifted. (And drifted some more).

And while I can’t speak to all the variables, one of the women was a nursing mother. Speaking of variables, for starters, why her baby wasn’t with her, and how she continued to do what she, ultimately, offered to do. (You’re ahead of me again).

For you see, over the course of the next twelve days she offered her liquid abundance to her five female compatriots, and the six men aboard the vessel. There was no clarification about her own sustenance, or lack thereof, during the almost two weeks prior to their rescue, and during which she so valiantly devoted herself to her friends.

When the game show host announced that the potential scenario had been True in all regards, one of the male contestants mused,

“I suppose the lady castaways were ready for their torment to end, while the male vagabonds would have been happy for it to continue a while longer.”

Pt. 3

Thirty years ago, when my wife and I regularly traveled to Jacksonville once a month to do the recreational dad thing with my children, we often visited St. Augustine for the weekend.

One day, we decided to tour the Flagler Museum. We walked past mummies, and the desk of Napoleon’s uncle, and such stuff as that. But on one wall hung a painting unlike anything I’d ever seen. My young daughter, Mary, stood transfixed with her mouth open, staring at it.

For right there in front of God and everybody, hung the visage of an old man, and a young woman,… her blouse open. While the old man suckled at her bosom, the young lady appeared frightened, and her gaze was transfixed on a dark wooden door a few feet away.

Obviously, we were stunned, and as much as we felt compelled to go, we felt compelled to stay. In spite of this somewhat R-rated exhibit, and the presence of the children, we lingered and began to read the description beneath it.

It seems that in a faraway land during medieval times, whether true or fictional, I know not, and for some unknown crime, an old man was sentenced to death. His manner of execution? He would be denied sustenance of any kind, except for water… and would experience a slow and excruciating death.

The elderly man was allowed but one visitor. And on a daily basis, his daughter dutifully came. Unknown to his jailer, however, and much to the good fortune of her father, his daughter happened to be a nursing mother. And now you know at the least the beginning of the rest of the story.

Though altogether unconventional, “Mina” offered that life-giving supply of nourishment to her father on a daily basis. Not only did the old man not die, but his tired old frame began to fill out, and his cheeks became downright rosy.

Of course, the warden and jailer never learned their secret, and after a substantial amount of time on what they thought was a diet of water, the aged fellow grew healthier, and was finally pardoned to return home.

It was widely believed a miracle had occurred, and the elderly ex-felon was celebrated far and wide.

And though this must be one of the most bizarre stories I have ever heard, who can deny the results were positive. A condemned man, but for the courage of his loving daughter, and doing all that was in her power to do, would have died.

Afterward

It occurs to me that I have never written a blog quite like this one, (nor do I expect to do so again).

In “a day and time” when we contend with so-called “wardrobe malfunctions,” (which calls to mind a couple of incidents at the 2018 Winter Olympics), the controversy surrounding breastfeeding in public continues, and there are a myriad of internet and social media sites devoted to the topic.

And while my opinion of the practice is “neither here nor there,” and the weight which I bring to bear on the subject is almost nil, I suppose I fall somewhere in the middle.

Women should be allowed to breastfeed in public; parks, restaurants, and places of business, included. After all, they have done so for multiplied millennia; eons before the advent of bottles and formula. However, (at least from my humble perspective) in order to maintain the sensibilities of the general public, the use of a discreet scarf or throw is preferable.

It is difficult to rid my self of that image of the lady zookeeper and those tuffs of orange and black at her breasts. Oh, the humanity! (Can we say ‘stiches’)?

By William McDonald, PhD. From (Mc)Donald's Daily Diary. Vol. 78. Copyright pending

If you wish to copy, share or save this blog, please include the credit line, above