Traveling with a Nursing Baby by Zina Abbott

Traveling with a nursing baby.

Been there, done that. Sitting in a fairly private automobile with family who are used to seeing nurse the newest baby is not bad. However, even though my grandchildren think this took place in the dark ages, relatively, it was not so long ago.

How about women crossing the trail in a covered wagon? The nice thing about nursing a baby, the baby's food was easily portable. Almost all women did it, so it was no big thing to look through the dust or the rain behind or ahead of you and see a woman with her baby to her breast. Or, if a woman was particularly modest about the whole affair, she could climb in the back of the covered wagon and endure the bounce of the wooden wheels against the bumpy, rutted trail and the heat caused by the sun beating down on the canvas cover and feed her little one in privacy.

In my current book from the Widows, Brides & Secret Babies series, Mail Order Roslyn, I have a heroine who is a nursing mother. She travels by stagecoach, not in a private automobile or with the available privacy found with a family wagon in a wagon train. (Railroad travel in the coach section was not overly private, either.)

All of what I wrote regarding nursing a baby required no research on my part. Once again, I've been there, done that. Even though the "baby" of my six babies I breastfed is forty years old, I remember...

As part of the plot, Roslyn leaves her two-month-old baby behind with her cousin while she meets a prospective husband who wrote he did not want a wife who had children. Roslyn's aunt is the one who sets this marriage up, and ignores the small detail that Roslyn has a baby. The reasoning is, once her husband grows fond of her, of course, he'll allow her to send for her baby. Set in 1866, canned milk is available, Roslyn can leave little Emmy behind for a month, then send for her later. So, even though it means going through the misery of having her breasts dry up, her baby can be fed--or so she thinks. 

As soon as Roslyn Welsh closed the hotel room door behind her, she turned and flopped against it, using the hard surface to support her back. She pressed both forearms against her nipples to stop the flow of milk. She squeezed her eyes shut and bent over, willing the let-down sensation to stop. How long before my milk finally dries up? It’s already been two days. After several seconds, she stood up and brushed aside the once royal blue Zouave jacket her aunt had dyed black. She inspected the front of her shirtwaist and heaved a sigh of relief. No wet spots. The folded muslin pads she had stuffed into the front of her corset were holding. She poked the side of one breast with her forefinger. Rock hard. 

While she is in the process of meeting this man, Roslyn gets a big surprise.

          The words caught in her throat and her eyes widened as she heard the sound of a baby’s cry. Emmy? No, it could not be her baby, but her body did not know the difference. She could feel the milk in her breasts let down.

            Roslyn spun a quarter turn to face the street. Interlacing her fingers, she clasped her hands together as she brought them to her lips, hoping the movement hid her real purpose which was to press her forearms against her nipples to stop the flow of milk.

            Roslyn turned her head to the right to look in the direction from which the sound of the baby’s cries came.

            On the boardwalk the next block over, a woman dressed in black from the top of her bonnet to the bottom hem of her skirt approached with a quick walk.

            Roslyn would know that silhouette anywhere. In her arms, Penelope, five months pregnant with her own child, held an infant wrapped in a familiar-looking, white knit blanket. What are they doing here? Panic surged up within her. Penelope is going to ruin everything. Without concern for what any of the men standing in front of the hotel saw or thought, Roslyn bounded off the side of the boardwalk into the cross-street as she ran toward her cousin and daughter.

            While Roslyn was still in the middle of the road, Penelope called out to her.

            “Roslyn, you need to take your baby. Emmy needs you.”

          Roslyn felt her entire body stiffen, and a surge of anger welled up within her. She cared not a whit if people in town witnessed her face red with annoyance. As Penelope joined her and she reached for her baby, she leaned forward and hissed at her cousin. “What are you doing here? You were supposed to wait a month for me to let you know it was all right to bring her to me.”

            ... “I had to bring her, Roslyn. Emmy isn’t eating well at all, and she cries all the time. The canned milk doesn’t agree with her.”

The way I was originally taught to breastfeed, at least in the daytime when I was not lying on my side in the bed, was to unbutton my blouse or dress from the top and breastfeed with what I always called the "let it all hang out" method.

 

By about the second or third child, I learned it was easier and a lot more modest to either wear a knit shirt or unbutton the blouse from the bottom. By keeping my upper body covered, and positioning the clothing hem just above the baby's mouth on my nipple, the baby's head hid my breast from view and baby's body covered my otherwise exposed midriff.

Once again, public transportation is not a private place, but when a nursing mother is traveling with baby, and baby is hungry, baby doesn't care about mother's modesty concerns. 

Later in my book, I have Roslyn in a tense, busy situation during a short stop at a stagecoach station at the same time Emmy wants to be fed. At times like that, a mother will put the needs of her baby first, no matter what. Here's a snippet from a scene I had fun writing:

            Hugging her tight against her chest, Roslyn climbed inside the coach. The only passenger remaining there was the soldier injured at the station. His eyes widened as Roslyn untied her fabric belt and tugged up the tail of her shirt. “Soldier, if you’ve never seen a woman nurse a baby before, you’re about to get an education. This child can’t wait any longer.” She reached beneath the shirt and loosened the camisole, then she positioned Emmy so she could latch on. She knew Emmy’s head and body blocked her breast so she was not exposed, but there was no disguising the nasal nursing noises.

Ah, yes, the nasal, snorting, gasping nursing noises. Many a nursing mother intent upon being discreet, will  position her clothing to keep herself covered and toss a blanket over her shoulder as if keeping the light out of a sleeping baby's eyes.  She may think she is disguising that she is breastfeeding the baby. Then, everyone around her stops talking. At that point, the noises a baby makes when it is nursing fills the room. It becomes very obvious to everyone what is going on. (Like I said--been there, done that.)

Back in the day, breastfeeding a child was the best option for keeping a baby alive and healthy. If a woman was unable (or unwilling) to breastfeed her own, she needed to find a wet nurse who could feed her child for her. Goat's milk or the milk of other animals might be an alternative. (Cow's milk was too hard for most younger babies to digest well).

Regardless of the practical and health aspects of nursing a baby, after having done so with my own six, I know there are other benefits. The closeness and bonding that takes place is difficult to duplicate, and takes effort on the part of those who are unable or decide not to breastfeed their own. Just be grateful that, if you choose to travel with a nursing baby, it is so much easier today than it was in the past.

Mail Order Roslyn is now available for purchase as an ebook on Amazon. I will be working on the print versions of my three most recent books starting the end of this week. 

(Speaking of previous books, does anyone recognize my hero named Elam Stewart in Mail Order Roslyn? He was a minor character in my previous book, Hannah's Handkerchief. It was one of those cases where I developed a character out of the blue in order to flesh out a scene, and I fell in love with him. He needed his own happily ever after.)

To find the book description and purchase link for Mail Order Roslyn, PLEASE CLICK HERE.

 

Nursing Careers in the 1800's

 by Cyndi Raye

Most women in the 1800's found it hard to establish themselves in certain careers. Especially in one such as nursing. It wasn't because they didn't want to, but the obstacles in the way were huge.

 It was a common practice for doctors in the 19th century to treat their nurses as if they were mere maids without their own minds. Nurses were not allowed to suggest  a way to treat the patient, but were to only administer aid when the doctor gave the go ahead. Many times a nurse would try to calm a sick or dying patient, to the doctor's dismay. Many doctors during that time period did not have a very sweet bedside manner, and when the nurse tried to help, she was usually reprimanded.

Much of the nursing in hospitals were done without proper schooling until later in the century. If a woman wanted to become a nurse, she would shadow an experienced senior nurse as an apprentice to learn the trade.

Florence Nightingale was a pioneer in London and had established a nursing school in 1860 at St. Thomas Hospital. Then, in 1873, Bellevue Hospital followed her lead and opened their first nursing school using her mode of training in New York. Students learned bedside manner, how to observe a patient's needs and the skills to do so.  The following job description shows how it was in 1887 in some areas.

Even then, doctors didn't allow their nurses to speak up or treat the patient. In one of my mail order bride books, Ellie of the Mail Order Brides of Wichita Falls, Nurse Ellie was a young lady who wanted to establish herself in the nursing field and make a difference. She had studied hard and wanted to contribute, but at every turn, the barriers were too high.

 However, every single time she spoke up it usually got her fired. Here's an excerpt from her book. Imagine you were a free thinking woman during this period. Nurse Ellie had spunk and liked to speak her mind:

“I’m terribly sorry, Miss Jacobs, there is no longer a position for you at this hospital.”

He wasn’t sorry one bit, that Ellie could see from where she stood. She clutched her hands so tight she may have winced if she hadn’t been trying hard not to let him see how upsetting his words were. She raised her chin a notch. No tears would be shed in front of this man. 

Dr. Tate was incorrigible. He was so miserable he hated everyone and everything, always finding fault with the nurses under his charge. What Ellie didn’t understand was why he was in the business of caring for people in the first place. It was obvious to everyone at the hospital he hated both nurses and patients alike, yet no one took it upon themselves to stop this madman from ruining people’s lives. 

Like he had just ruined hers.

Dr.Tate grunted before sitting back down at his desk. “Please gather your belongings and leave the premises. Upon termination, you will no longer be permitted to step foot in this hospital. Carry on.”

Ellie stood frozen to the spot for a moment. Should she do as the others had who lost their nursing position and nod politely, thanking him for the opportunity and experience to work here all these months?

No, not Ellie. 
Her biggest downfall was speaking the honest truth in any matter.

Dr. Tate looked up from the paperwork on his desk. “Well, Miss Jacobs, go on now.”

She pressed her knees together, pursed her mouth in a tiny pucker and squared round shoulders. “Dr. Tate, while I appreciate all this hospital has taught me-”

Her words were quickly interrupted. “No need to go on and on. We can’t afford to have nurses thinking for themselves. Your job was to stand behind the doctors and follow their direction, not go about taking matters in to your own hands, defying orders and diagnosing patients, for crying out loud.”

“Is there any chance this hospital will pen me a positive reference?”

He pushed the frames of his glasses in place. “I’m afraid not, Miss Jacobs. I’m afraid you’ve done yourself in on this one.”

“That’s what I presumed, Dr. Tate. Therefore, I want you to know my true feelings.”

He put up his hand. “It’s not necessary, Miss Jacobs. I understand your frustration at losing a position here. Perhaps you are not meant to be a nurse after all.”

“Poppycock!” She took a step forward, placing the knuckles of her fists on the desktop and leaned forward in an unladylike manner. “You, sir, are indeed one of the worst doctors in Charleston! Your patients are left wondering what is happening to them as you treat people as though they are pigs in a den and not of much consequence.”

“That will be enough!” Dr. Tate rose. He tore off his glasses and flung them to land on the untidy desk. “I’ll repeat the request for you to leave these premises, Miss Jacobs, before I have someone remove you.”

Ellie flung her head back to look up at the six foot doctor. “I am leaving, sir, of my own accord.”

He pressed his fingertips to the top of the desk and leaned forward as she had done. “It’s a shame you threw away a nursing career. No one will hire you now. I’ll make sure of this.”

“I don’t doubt you will but I’ve had my say. I am a nurse and will continue to practice. Maybe not here in Charleston, but somewhere. Good day.” 

Ellie marched from the doctor’s office, her head held high. She was glad she had told him what she thought even if it wasn’t ladylike. Several employees who heard the conversation tried not to stare as she grabbed her reticule from where it sat on the corner of the window pane and left the Roper Hospital behind.

Nurse Ellie was quite bold. She had spoken up in a time when women usually kept their mouths shut because they were afraid of being ridiculed or even fired. Many nurses were fired at the drop of a hat, especially if a doctor didn't care for them. In Charleston, where Ellie starts out, if a nurse was fired she usually wound up at the Charleston Orphan House, a far cry from a nursing career. There, in the dark, depressing atmosphere, a nurse would be no more than a maid for the children, ironing and washing clothes, cooking and taking care of orphans. Many women didn't dare to speak up like Ellie had.

If you'd like to learn more about what happens to Nurse Ellie, be sure to pick up your own copy at Amazon.

Get Nurse Ellie here on Amazon