Here we go….. I am jumping feet first into this today. Apparently four extra points of IQ have been given to my boys through my blessed boobs because I fed each of them for more than a year. Awwww, that’s nice. No, really, how can this come about? I can get the maths and the less infections, less illness but I just cannot buy into the idea that it gives them more brains or braininess. Surely that is all about nurture and the environment they are brought up in. It’s not a thing? Surely?
I’m annoyed to hear this – I have just been swimming and drafted a frankly fabulous post about it, whilst I was in the water. Then I come home and Kelly and Clare are making hilarious comments about it on Facebook, that have me spitting coffee over my air (I cannot write laptop, it’s so much more than that), laughing at their ‘contributions’ to this news. And it’s got my truly riled. I’m a Psychology graduate. Manchester. The Manchester. The proper one, with a 2:1 (proud, me, not half…) and it is just impossible, to my mind, to statistically vary and allow for, in any meaningful, real life way, for other variables and factors.
Do you want to know why I breastfed my boys? Well, in the first instance, because I learnt about it being something that would give them antibodies, that would mean they were less likely to have infections and illnesses. Because my body had been leaking milk since I was 20 weeks pregnant – my boobs and my body seemed to have it all planned out – they were ready to go, geared up and there. I did have the toe curling pain of the first weeks of feeding, but there was something there already that made it so amazing, so beautiful, that frankly felt so right in my body and my heart that I didn’t even contemplate stopping it.
The skin to skin. The closeness. The feeding in bed together at night. The reason why I could demand to hold onto them as much as I wanted to. Just everything. It was the best experience. I loved it. I was so proud of how much they loved feeding. I loved how strong it made me feel. It brought out every protective bit of me. It just. Words fail me. I loved it. And now, I know that the boys loved it as well. When they are tired, where do they snuggle up to? My boobs. When they are asleep and cuddling in, where do they snuggle into? You got it. When they were smaller, they’d just absentmindedly pat my chest – they really did. They’d just pat the boobs, and off they went again. It was checking in.
I didn’t do bottle feeding with ours, or with one but not the other, so I can’t tell you if my experience and parenting and emotions would be different if I’d not breastfed. I don’t know what it would have been. All I know is that the benefits of breastfeeding to me, don’t feel like four IQ points. They feel like an emotional bond, closeness and connection that nothing in the world can replace. Not even minecraft on an iPad. And that’s saying something, don’t you think?
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