Strike

Like Norma Rae or the Screen Actors Guild, Otter's gotten very keen on protecting her inalienable rights and desires with hard-line displays. In short, she's into striking.

After having the non-sleeping rug pulled out from under her feet, SB took on a new cause. The latest in her establishing boundaries was a hunger strike. As of Friday, Otter was off to the races, convincing us (quite vehemently) that not only was eating a non-compulsory activity, the act of nursing was downright offensive.

Any attempts to feed her were met with locked legs, arched back and high pitched screams. After trying every conceivable nursing position (including a few that call upon the mother to be a contortionist), walking, rocking, diversion techniques and simply letting her wait until she's "hungry enough," I was at my wit's end. I worried that she wasn't getting enough to eat. I freaked that I'd have to pump and re-feed her at every meal. I was afraid every feeding would turn into combat. So I did what I always do, when faced with an impossible situation - I searched the Internet.

What I was hoping to find was a magic cure, or at least some useful advice. What I first found instead was this. Now I know that I'm just being snarky and cynical, and that nursing is wonderful for the baby and is a very beautiful, bonding experience with your baby and many mothers hate, I mean really hate to acknowledge it's coming to an end, blah, blah, blah. But seriously. Seriously. I hate this woman.

"My daughter and I had enjoyed a peaceful, contented nursing session in the wee hours of the previous night. I'm grateful for that memory of peace. Then my world fell apart."

Mind you, her daughter is nearly a year old when this happened. And I know that in other cultures, children breast-feed well into their toddler years, and for the record, I applaud the parents for doing that. But come on. I mean, is it me, or is she WAY dramatic?

"I still marvel at how patient my dear son, then three, was...and how he gave me so many hugs when my eyes were overflowing with tears."

She's got a toddler to care for and she's having a meltdown because she can't nurse? How fair is that to him?

"I related the sudden weaning to my husband and friends as similar feelings to the sudden death of a loved one. I felt despair, anger, and pain. I felt a deep loss. It was the end of our breastfeeding relationship, the end of a way of mothering, a way of nurturing, a way of caring."

Forgive me for sounding so callous at this woman's obvious, overwhelming pain, but if the loss of boob-to-mouth is the death of a way of mothering for you, you gotta really reassess what "mothering" means to you. From what I hear, you still have to nurture and care for them after they eat solids. Maybe now is the time to learn how to love your baby, not just enjoy feeding her.

Oh, as for Otter, we're limping through - me planning feeding times for when she's tired, asking the universe for peaceful feedings and emanating vibes of serenity, and Otter returning the favor by not having a total meltdown at each mealtime.

She is feeding for less time now - perhaps I'll start looking for a "shorter nursing interval" support group.