Tonight was my last breastfeeding clinic at our local hospital. I've worked at nearly every one of the roughly 300 clinics held over the last two years, first as an intern and then as a certified lactation consultant.
And, just because I can, I've decided to say my goodbyes to my colleagues and all of the wonderful families I've met in these last two years here on this blog. I'll continue to teach classes at this hospital, and will be starting up a new breastfeeding clinic program at another hospital. I'll also run a very limited private practice.
It's a little hard to explain why I'm leaving the clinic. These jobs are very hard to come by, so I didn't take the decision lightly. I guess that I can say that for most of my time there I felt that the hospital wasn't really ready to commit to me. When the hospital did show interest in me I realized that I didn't want to commit to it. There are many reasons for this, big and small, but the bottom line is that the idea of staying on gave me a stomach ache, and my stomach is always right.
But this is not what I want to write about! What I want to talk about is how much fun it has been to run the clinic and how priveleged I feel to have worked with so many extraordinary and inspiring people.
Where to start? I've been peed on, sprayed with milk, and have almost fallen on the floor laughing at times. I've worked with mothers who in their 'real lives' are teachers, lawyers, high school students, social workers, doctors, housekeepers, artists, nurses, dog trainers, musicians, news anchors, and more professors and graduate students than you can shake a stick at (you have to know this community). I once walked around the clinic for an hour or so with a "Soothie" stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I've been caught in the middle of several marital disputes, and have helped a number of families recreate their beds on the floor to practice the side-lying position. I've gotten hugs when a weight check shows progress, and seen hearts break when the news is bad. I've replaced many pump parts destroyed by dogs.
My strongest memories, though, will be of the women who I've seen struggle through huge challenges. It's been so moving to see the lengths to which women will go to make breastfeeding work in the face of pain, problems with supply, hostile family members, and thrush that should be classified a weapon of mass destruction. We tend to picture mothers and babies in romantic terms - soft focus and pastel shades - but what I've seen is that facing down a breastfeeding challenge is all about courage, strength, persistence, and love that is as fierce as it is tender.
Being in this line of work means that you meet people in a moment of crisis. Even if breastfeeding is going well, becoming a mother involves crossing the most significant threshold in our lives, and this is inevitably a crisis of sorts - of identity, of changing relationships, of a new understanding of our bodies. It's truly an honor to be a part of someone's life at that moment.
So, I say goodbye with a quote from one of the thank you cards I've received, from a mother still happily nursing at 7 months. I remember them telling me that when they realized the clinic was open they dashed out the door, leaving their dinner on the table.
We've been meaning to write to tell you just how much help you've been to us this year. We'll never forget the night we barged into your clinic full of tears and thinking we might have to give up nursing. Anyway, thank you so much!
Thank you, everyone, for an incredible experience. Do stay in touch!
