World AIDS Day

This morning, I discovered that today, December 1st, is World AIDS Day.

I have never known anyone who is HIV-positive or diagnosed with AIDS. However, I have been aware of the many myths spread about how you can catch AIDS.

As a teenager, I once had a boyfriend who was a few years older than me. My father was aware that this young man had "been around the block" with many girls. He warned me against kissing him, saying that the AIDS virus travels through saliva.

This is just one myth about people who have HIV or develop AIDS. You can't catch AIDS from kissing someone who has it.

Another myth I was exposed to was how swimming in the same pool as someone with AIDS was risky, because you could catch it while in the pool. (There was even a big fuss over this at a public pool.)

Yet another myth was that only homosexuals could catch AIDS. One friend of mine even commented how her boyfriend couldn't possibly have AIDS because he wasn't gay. Wrong!

Both homosexual and heterosexual people can catch AIDS. Even bisexual people can get it. AIDS does not pick and choose among race, religion, age or sexual preference.

Sadly, I once read this article about a woman in Africa who was HIV-positive and she received heavy prenatal care and assistance to help her deliver a fully healthy baby that was HIV-negative. Unfortunately, because of tradition, her family forced her to breastfeed her baby, despite doctors warning her not to do this because the virus can travel through her breast milk. She eventually gave in to their pressure to breastfeed. Sadly, her baby developed AIDS and died. (I was not only saddened by this but also infuriated. A human life is MORE important than some stupid tradition!)

Some other myths about AIDS I have heard of are:

--You can only catch AIDS from a hypodermic needle.

--Someone who is HIV-positive is the same as someone who has AIDS.

--Someone diagnosed with AIDS will definitely die from it. (A lot of progress in medicine has helped many people diagnosed with AIDS lead long and healthy lives.)

I am glad there is a World AIDS Day. It needs to be talked about and researched more openly to avoid the spread of all the myths about it.

The other "woman's choice"

I wasn't sure if talking about something like this was a good idea.Sometimes I worry about the things I discuss in my blog -- like, if people take them the wrong way, or something. But I really feel it's important to discuss this issue, not so much to defend my decision but maybe in some way to let other women who make this decision know they have a "soul sister" out there.

Before I had my baby, I was of a mind to feed him formula. Having gone through the routine before, I really felt formula-feeding was the more convenient option for all of us. My husband, however, felt differently.He wanted me to breastfeed. His stand on this issue is that it is the healthier option for our child. Even though I reminded him that our daughter was formula-fed (after one week of being breastfed) and that she turned out just fine, he still felt that breastfeeding was the way to go.

I'd previously had a bad relationship experience with someone which affected my views of breastfeeding, so I didn't feel too good about it. It just really affected me so deeply that I struggled with how to approach breastfeeding my own child. (I'd rather not discuss what happened. Let me just say that I paid the price for trying to have an open mind.) So for a while, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to go through with it. I wasn't sure if I COULD go through with it. Even as I talked to my husband about this, and about my feelings which resulted from it, that didn't change his desire for me to breastfeed our baby. So I had to work out my issues on my own, which I did succeed in doing.

After I gave birth, we set to the task of breastfeeding the baby. Since I had not been able to learn that much about breastfeeding, I had a WHOLE LOT of help from the nurses and lactation consultants at the hospital.They tirelessly worked with me to help get a hang of breastfeeding. Even when I faced a positioning challenge because of my left hand being unable to hold my son's head when he was on my right side, they were constantly available to help me and to educate me on breastfeeding. My husband was very supportive, too. When I finally learned how to support the baby on my right side despite my physical challenges, I was overjoyed. I soon experienced the bliss of breastfeeding my baby and the bond we shared during such an experience. I finally understood that bond. I thought I was silly to have such reservations over breastfeeding before, because ALL of those issues just went away. They meant nothing, NOTHING, compared to this. It was just such a wonderful feeling, unlike any other in the world.

Then something happened. Amid the nursing and in-between pumping that I did, I noticed something on one breast: A blister. When I saw it, I was horrified! I was stunned! HOW did that get there?? It was right next to the nipple, and there was NO WAY I was going to put that into my son's mouth! So I decided that I would nurse/pump on the good side, then supplement his feeding with a couple ounces of the formula the hospital gave to us. At least until the blister healed. (Yes, it WAS painful and soon became irritated. I had to cover it with a bandage.) I tried to pump milk on that side, mainly to keep the milk supply up, but it was just too painful.

Luckily, I had an upcoming appointment with a lactation consultant. I figured I could talk about this blister and see what my best course of action should be. When I showed her the blister, she reacted with the same kind of surprise. She said it looked like the baby had been biting there, though I couldn't recall that kind of sensation from previous feedings. She also found a new blister on the OTHER side! Good grief!! She gave me some Soothies to wear, which would help heal the blisters (they were UTTER heaven, especially since the right side was becoming engorged) and we talked about my options. I told her all about how I'd been feeding the baby up until this point. We talked about the possibility of my pumping milk to keep the milk up until I could nurse the baby again. She also mentioned the possibility that I could stop the milk supply and give him formula -- mainly because the whole pumping thing would become an inconvenience. She knew I had another young child to care for, and that there was nobody else at home to help out.

I sadly looked to where my daughter sat on the floor, playing with toys. Hubby was sleepily slouched over on a stool, half-awake. (He'd only gotten a couple of hours of sleep.) I knew she was right. She said if I pumped the milk, I'd have to do it every three hours until my full milk supply came in. Then I'd have to ALSO squeeze feeding the baby in there somewhere. Hubby was taking the week off from work to help out, and he'd been wonderful about it, really. But he had to go back to work soon, and that meant I'd be alone with the kids all day. I had NOBODY else to help out. Nobody else to keep an eye on Jennifer so I could disappear for 15 minutes every 3 hours to pump milk. I mean, how could I expect a 6-year-old to behave? And what about her school? What if I'd be stuck pumping milk when she gets out of school and then I'd be late to pick her up? What about the baby? I couldn't do the pumping in our room while he's asleep, because it would wake him up. That meant leaving him alone, for 15 minutes. Sight unseen. I couldn't do that! What if Jennifer went in there and...DID SOMETHING?? Picked him up or something?

Anything could happen. And I....would not know until after it happened,because I wouldn't be able to HEAR any of it. Or even see any of it. (It's not like I'd be pumping milk on the living room couch. And I don't let Jennifer in the same room I pump in, either. It's a very private moment for me. Hubby isn't even in the same room when I pumped milk. I just didn't feel comfortable having an audience.)

So, it was true. It really wasn't doable for me. I couldn't nurse the baby until my blisters were healed. I couldn't pump milk, either. As much as I hated the thought, I would have to stop the milk. I'd have to stop breastfeeding my son. This realization hurt so much. It was so painful and tears came into my eyes. I started feeling guilty. I started feeling SO inadequate and like such a failure. I just felt horrible. I knew it was the best decision for me to make, but it still hurt to make it. I had to do what was best for the family, even if it meant that it hurt and even if I ended up feeling like a bad mother because of it. (Oh, I did indeed feel like a bad mother. There is just so much pressure on women to breastfeed.)

I told the consultant that I would stop the milk and switch to formula-feeding for good. She noticed my reaction and said, "You seem very sad about this decision." She went on to say that breastfeeding is not right for every family and that I have done a wonderful job in breastfeeding Jesse so far. He at least had SOME breastfeeding during the first week of his life, and that was important. The important nutrients were given to him and he would be okay if I switched to formula-feeding. She was VERY sympathetic and very understanding. She did help me feel a little bit better, but as we left the appointment, I just felt awful about myself. I hated the whole situation. Now I WANTED to breastfeed my child! But...given the circumstances...I could not. It just couldn'thappen. Part of me wanted to be a "martyr" about it and find SOME way to safely continue with my plan to pump the milk and feed the baby in between making sure my other child was safe and not doing anything with the baby while I wasn't available to watch both of them. But, I knew that wasn't possible. I just couldn't do it, and that's that.

When we got home, I felt miserable. I just felt horrible. I went into the bathroom and cried and cried. I felt like I had let my child down. Like there was something wrong with me. I was so depressed and just riddled with guilt. It was awful. I tried to cheer myself up, thinking things like "I can drink coffee now!" or "I can eat spicy and garlicky foods now!" But even that didn't cheer me up. NOTHING cheered me up. For the next few days, I was a zombie. I fed the baby formula, hating myself each time I did. And, yes, I DID drink coffee. And tea. And soda. But there was no feeling of joy or happiness over being able to drink them again. There was nothing except the reminder that I wasn'tbreastfeeding anymore.

After a while, the melancholy faded away. I just accepted it that I wasn't breastfeeding anymore. The engorgement went away, my blisters healed and soon my breasts felt "normal" again. Yes, I mourned that "empty" feeling they now had, still feeling a sting over my inadequacy. But I knew I had made the right decision for all of us. Well, maybe not as far as the baby's health is concerned....but definitely as far as his safety is concerned.