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.)
In my new release: Willow's Worth, a head injury causes communication problems of a different kind. Telegraph operator, Willow Graham, has benefited from a unique lifestyle growing up on her grandfather's ranch. She loves the wide-open countryside, where she rides and trains animals. With her twenty-first birthday approaching, her family pressures her to return to the city and take up the lavish lifestyle her uncle has planned for her. But another option piques her curiosity - a matchmaking agency's recommendation that she begin correspondence with a handsome farmer.
