Mummy Guzzlers United

Motherhood has helped me steer clear of the highly contagious war virus sweeping the globe. It isn’t just that I don’t have the time to get all worked up about something I have no power over, it’s also that the time I do have is spent researching an issue more relevant to my daily life. I’m at that stage you see, where I have to decide whether to wean or continue to scream (baby has just cut his first tooth).

The situation is complicated because there is probably more opinion out there on breastfeeding then there is on the Baath party. Saddam might have his presidential palaces and his elite Fedayeen, but so do nursing mothers. There is the La Leche league, religious theory, diverse parenting institutes and assorted mothering motherships, not to mention WHO (as well as Whatnot). Most agree its best to nurse baby for at least six months, but things get a little murky after that.

Both WHO and Islamic theory advocate breastfeeding for two years, citing innumerable benefits to both mother and child. The flip side is, who advocates breastfeeding for two years? Career haters? Women not spoilt by expectation of ceaseless excitement and adventure, or even a little freedom of movement, might be able to do it as a matter of course but for someone like me, its hard. Being on a nursing schedule is a little like being a rabid puppy chained up in an alleyway. You want to rush out and attack all the annoying humanity passing by but every lunge is aborted before completion by the weight of the chain around your neck. Full tooth-immersion bites into the apple of life are but a distant dream; even a gentle nip no longer seems possible.

Disturbing imagery from the mother of a seven month old? Worried readers might do well to join hands with a certain friend who feels my child should be removed from my care. His reasons for seeing me as an unfit mother though, have more to do with my answer to his question of “what sports are you planning to teach him?” “All the standard manly ones,” I said, “synchronized swimming, rhythmic gymnastics, darts…”

As usual, I digress, a habit that has only become worse with constant nursing. Its not as if you can do anything else during, except watch TV, and there really isn’t anything good on nowadays. The battle scenes in Braveheart are so much better. Try to read a book, and the baby will drop what he’s doing and try to eat the book instead. Put the cordless on your shoulder and you’ll have a little snout nuzzling into your armpit. Pick your nose and you’ll feed like a bad role model. So sympathetic readers might understand why I’m researching the pros and cons of breastfeeding so early. Seven months might be considered a long time in some cultures, but in Pakistan a year seems to be a more accurate norm.

One tidbit I’ve been chewing placidly in all my cow like splendor for some time now is the apparent correlation between breastfeeding and IQ. Breastfed children have higher IQ’s, goes the tune, formula fed infants aren’t quite as sharp. One of the biggest problems with studies, apart from the fact that there are far too many of them and they’re probably reproducing (asexually) as I write, is that there is no easy way to confirm them. I mean, I could always call all my smart friends and ask if they were breastfed, but what if all the stupid ones found out and got offended I didn’t ask them? Should I switch from milk to formula and see if little Bean’s grasp of rocket science (goo, mmm and burp are apparently highly complicated scientific equations) seems to slip a little?

Then there’s the theory that a society that weans too early preens too much. Teach a child to find comfort in an inanimate object like a blanket or a toy rather than the arms of a human, and you’re teaching him to value the material above the spiritual. When said child grows into an adult (unless he’s formula fed in which case he will presumably be a munchkin), that adult wont want a better, deeper relationship but a bigger, louder TV. I can already see this theory doing the begum rounds. “No wonder the Americans are so obsessed with things…mothers practically rip their children from their breast and fling them into daycare..how are they going to be normal after that haan?”

Haan indeed. Perhaps the Olympic committee can consider introducing that as a competitive sport. After the discus throw, we now present…the baby rip&toss!

I wonder if Bin Laden was breastfed. Zia-ul-Haq? Other ‘eastern’ luminaries? Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men, as the saying goes, mummy guzzlers or not.

One expert with over two decades of research in the field under her belt (an indication of the state of my brain is that I initially thought that meant two decades breastfeeding) based her arguments in favor of nursing on standard primate behavior. Human beings, she pointed out, are the only primates that wean their young so early. Other (better) primates don’t encourage or foist physical independence on their young until they are good and ready for it. In most cases, this is the equivalent of several human years. I skipped all the way to the end, but there was no information on whether other primates paid for their offspring’s food, board and college education as well.

This begs the question, should we really base important life decisions on standard primate behavior? Granted that in this time of identity confusion, when all and sundry are wondering whether to put human, Pakistani or Muslim first, it would be really useful to answer with primate instead…it just doesn’t seem like a sure fire way to get that elusive job interview you know? Not that I have a job interview. Or a job. One that pays anyway.

For the time being then, I shall continue to daydream, research and procrastinate as I (hopefully) help my child be all he can be. Or all he can eat. Not because I want him to be more secure or intelligent than others, which in our society is like condemning them to social and emotional Siberia, but simply because I enjoy that time with him. I will probably never know for sure what effect feeding has on him, but I do know that it centers me. As I read different opinions on the subject, the one that resonated most was from a very experienced doctor. Mothers who breastfed, he said, had an easier time coping with their children because when faced with a problem they tended to view it through their child’s eyes.

In this apocalyptic time, what greater gift could you ask for than the blissful oblivion of the innocent?

Primate me says a banana.