Sunday, Jul 20, 2008
And then the control freaks at La Leche League buried me in bureaucracy, bare breasts and too much LLLove.
Mar 31, 2000 | I used to love La Leche League. At the local group level, La Leche salvaged my mental health after six months of isolation at home with my baby. When we moved to a new town, a La Leche meeting was a proven place of sanctity where I, huge with baby No. 2, could hook up with like-minded mothers. Their mandate of giving information and encouragement to all mothers who want to breast-feed their babies served me well in those early years. I felt passionate about breast-feeding and deeply obligated to La Leche, as they had lifted my social life out of the dumps and helped me through sore nipples and thrush.
But as all good things come to an end, this did too: They sent a leader to sniff me out for leadership. That's when things turned bad. Very bad.
La Leche leaders are always on the make for leader applicants. Applicants are mothers who have been attending meetings and show La Leche leader qualities -- abilities in breast-feeding and mothering and the ability to relate to others. Usually there's nowhere to go in the organization if you are no longer nursing a child. So when the leaders told me that I was a marvelous La Leche mother, I was terribly flattered and agreed to take on my application for leadership.
The leader accreditation department sent me monthly flowery letters written in longhand, covered with stickers, stuffed with confetti and signed LLLove. I assured them that I believed in the LLL philosophy: Breast milk is the superior infant food; children need loving guidance; good nutrition means eating food in as close to its natural state as possible; breast-feeding is enhanced by the support of the baby's father; alert, active participation is necessary in childbirth; breast milk is the only food until the middle of the first year; and the breast-feeding relationship continues until the baby outgrows the need.
According to the literature, leaders are expected to "serve as a compass, steadfastly pointing to the lodestar of League philosophy." I complied the best I could, although I slipped my family junk food and never ground my own wheat. Alert participation in childbirth? Well, in reality I flunked that one, too. With my first child I was heavily and happily doped up with Demerol and an epidural. Strike two for me.
Imperfect as I was, I didn't let that stop me from La Leche status-seeking. I did feel discomfort with the "father" element in the philosophy: The semantics seemed exclusionary, as in, single mothers and lesbian parents need not apply. I had the sneaking suspicion they'd rather not deal with the awkwardness of a mother arriving solo at a "couples" meeting; the presence of a husband was definitely preferable. The lone single mother in our group stopped attending meetings -- there were rumors that she had felt unwelcome. No big surprise there.
Still I forged ahead, perhaps with a hidden agenda of reforms. There was no hoopla when I finished my application and became a leader. I signed a letter of intent in duplicate and an insurance form that covered me in case I misdirected a mother of a dehydrated baby. I co-led monthly meetings, and was expected to adhere to the strict agenda dictated by "National Office," as other leaders became visibly irritated if I dared stray off topic. I took turns answering the La Leche phone hotline.
Meanwhile, my "gentle guidance" techniques for my children were highly suspect on the days I did league work: I plugged them into videos and yelled at them to keep quiet while I was on the phone. Some glowing La Leche League example I was turning out to be.
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