On the Blessed Mother and breastfeeding

I once took for granted that all mothers breastfeed— among Filipinos especial­ly, who doesn’t? Yet, with Pasko in our minds as early as September, I’ve hardly thought of the Blessed Mother nursing the Baby Jesus; have you ever? Like me, I’m sure you haven’t, so much so that seeing her openly feeding the Baby in a fresco at the Basilica di Santa Croce’s Museo dell Opera in Firenze, Italy, two years ago, I felt so entranced that I had to be hustled out for the next tourist group’s turn. Indeed, why would she not breast­feed in the most natural way that homo sapiens of the class mammalia do?

But no thought deeper than that scientific fact has soaked me in sheer bliss over the image since, the same joy I had felt in my youth and somehow still do, whenever I chance upon a mother nurs­ing her baby. And so, when asked for an interview a few years ago by Simon Fraser University (SFU) Community Radio in Burnaby, BC, I had leaped onto it though just as swiftly, panicked, realizing I would have carried nothing but memories of mothers I’ve known to the discussion—not having experienced it, being childless.

Still, quite certain that images from my childhood might stir pleasant imag­es among listeners and add credence to the benefits of breastfeeding, I pushed off reading up on relevant ma­terials, refreshing instead, my recollections of Berta, for one, a young mother in our neigh­borhood, who I’d meet always with a baby side-saddled and three others (with more after I left for the university), clutch­ing at her hemline.

Hardly seen not nurs­ing a baby not only between chores like washing clothes.

in the creek—when an older child would turn over to her the whining baby—but also during siesta on the steps of Auntie Osing’s kitchen, how casual she with my aunt had seemed, how robust their children; together they breast­fed as they chatted until their babies lulled by the breeze popped out the nipples and open-mouthed, slumbered.

But then, I had wondered how I would weave into the discussion other mothers I’ve known, no longer like Ber­ta and my aunt, those of my age like office mates in Manila who kept their shape intact, pursued promotions, and set goals even for mothering, giv­ing their babies formula milk, which had not only eased their routines but also promised genius children? Right there, I tackled the folder handed over to me as background for the interview.

I learned that a Syn­chronized Breastfeeding Worldwide Challenge had just been held six days be­fore my schedule apparently on its 9th year by then, with the Philippines having won in 2006 for the most number of moms, at 3,738, nursing in one place—now an item in the Guinness World Records. With the numbers, issues re­lated to breastfeeding began to surface, prompting the World Health Organization and gov­ernments to confront these with legislation and initiatives.

If SFU Radio had not thought that being a Filipino, I could speak on breastfeed­ing, I wouldn’t have learned about mothers’ rights pro­tected by laws across states and countries, like the right to breastfeed anywhere and take time off to pump their breasts at work, or be given support during disasters, such as those that have happened in the Philippines, when stress and illness deprive babies of their mothers’ milk. Did you know about the screened wet nurs­es and milk from a Milk Bank (donated fresh breast milk)— available during Ondoy and I suppose, Yolanda?

The tide has shifted since in favor of babies, indeed. Still, I spot only a few moth­ers breastfeeding in public—it turns out, breastfeeding has morphed into an indecency issue, with babies as the un­likely victim. Take how Lani struggled to lift the nursing cover while trying to latch on to her mom’s nipple. From whimpering, she pitched to impatient bawling as we watched her thrashing under the cloth. Only after Mom Jacqui, disentangled the rib­bon on her back that held the cover and loosened half of it, while she scooted deeper to hide in the corner of an alcove at Max’s in Waipahu in Hawaii did Lani suckle in peace.

Unknown to Lani, she had the better luck from one I witnessed in the mall’s re­stroom on Davie St., Vancou­ver, a baby whose mom, with her own mom, had bundled for breastfeeding in a corner behind the door—both had raised apologetic eyes at me when I noticed them crouched like thieves. And even more heart-rending, the little boy begging for breast milk in the train from Vancouver to New Westminster while his mom struggled to distract him with toys and stories because she did not bring her nursing cov­er.

No notice of another breastfeeding challenge has reached my inbox, so far, but found in my search, regional events that seem to have taken over, like an outreach course in Penang, Malaysia. If given another chance by SFU Radio, I could now engage listeners with a more enlightened dis­cussion, invoking the elation I bear to this day from viewing a fresco of the Blessed Mother nursing Jesus.