Why Is It So Hard For Others To Get

I hesitated to write this post on this blog because I try to keep it infertility-related, for the most part, but as I was writing a link started to emerge.

I didn't leave a comment on Melissa's fantastic first or second post about breastfeeding. I kept trying to because I wanted to support her and be in total agreement. But I would just well up whenever I tried to come up with a rational thought, so I chalked it up to pregnancy hormones and tried not to feel too guilty for not being more supportive of someone who never fails to lend her support.

And then I read about the Similac formula recall and posted about it on Facebook. And a "friend" posted about it as well with the comment that this is why she didn't used formula. I suggested to her that she could be more sensitive since breastfeeding wasn't an option for everyone and suggested she look at Melissa's posts. A virtual "feud" ensued. We have "de-friended" each other and it's no great loss, but I'm still rankled by the exchange.

I have never written, except in the briefest passing, about my breastfeeding experience. About how my failed induction caused my blood sugar to drop below 50 and require glucose. That those wonky sugars and the treatment for them combined with not eating for two days in which I never dilated past three cm after having my water manually broken meant that my son was born with low blood sugar and was given formula in an attempt to stabilize it before I was even out of recovery and able to hold him. How I tried and tried everything the lactation consultant suggested in the hospital, and during phone consultations and in follow-up appointments. How much I yearned to be able to feed my baby "the best way" despite the fact that he came home sucking down four ounces of formula at a time. How I "power-pumped" eight times a day and never got more than three ounces total for the entire day from both breasts. How the one time I actually got four ounces and cried because that was a whole bottle of breast milk for him at a time when he was taking in 24 ounces a day.

And why did I want so much to breastfeed- because it was "best." And damnit, I had waited so long (although recognizably not as long as many) for this baby, everything had to be the "best." I was going to be like all the other mothers, for a change. I was part of the "in crowd" now, I was no longer a childless infertile, I was a mama. And breastfeeding is what mamas do.

Nine weeks of crying every single time I pumped because I had to set my baby (who wanted to be held all the time) down and listen to him cry while I futilely produced dribbles that wouldn't even constitute an entire bottle. I finally stopped. I think my husband thought I was going crazy and maybe I was. Although I would periodically try to put him to the breast to no avail. And very doctor's appointment I took him too, I had to reply that he was formula fed. I had to wonder if he was sick because he wasn't getting the "best" with all its alleged immunity properties. The guilt lie around every corner.

And reading Melissa's gorgeously raw posts, I realize I didn't even have it that bad. It's not as if my child was starving or not thriving or in the NICU or premature or any of those other anxiety-producing, heart-wrenching situations that others have to grapple with. Melissa said it best: Any time we name something “best” and ignore all other possibilities, we are being inflammatory.

So, why can't others get it? Why does there have to be judgment rendered, explicit or implied? Why do they give a damn what someone else is feeding her baby? Why the need for moral superiority if one is a successful breastfeeder? Can't we just ask someone to be sensitive and her to say, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize, I will be more cognizant in the future?"

As I pondered these ideas and found myself unable to sleep, I found it so much like the interminable debates over language on message boards relating to trying to conceive. And how the poor infertiles keep attempting to ask for sensitive language that takes into account that some are struggling (e.g., the "finally" bombs) that is met with defensive and derisive replies. Why is it so hard for others to get that sometimes one unintentionally says something that is hurtful to another? Why is it so hard to own that? Maybe the person didn't realize. Ok, I can understand that. But learn from that experience. If even one person is hurt by the statement, why not just change it? Or at least not repeat it?

Why is it so hard for women to just stand along side each other in silent support and just not say anything?