I spent a week at camp this summer.
Unlike a typical summer camper, I didn’t grab a sleeping roll and cram my duffle bag full of swimsuits, t-shirts, sunblock, and hiking boots. Instead, I pulled a regular suitcase out of the closet and stocked it with pajamas, a few changes of comfortable clothing, a notebook, a pack of shiny new pencils and the Pocket Guide for Lactation Management. I was off to Breastfeeding Camp.
My “camp” was, in actuality, a five-day lactation counselor certificate training course conducted by the Massachusetts-based Center for Breastfeeding and certified by the national Academy of Lactation Policy and Practice. One of two offered yearly around the country, my session was located in Mankato, and drew participants from around the upper Midwest. There were close to 40 attendees, most of whom were postpartum nurses, public health workers, W.I.C. employees, La Leche leaders — and me.
Before I became a mother, my thoughts about breastfeeding were pretty much limited to, “You give birth to a baby; if you can, you nurse that baby.” But then nursing my much-loved-and-wanted child turned out to be way, way harder than I ever expected. Eventually, thanks to the help of my hospital’s lactation consultant, my daughter and I were finally able to cobble together a breastfeeding routine. Out of those stressful first few months grew a side career of writing about breastfeeding, including a book and a professional blog.
Fast forward nine years. (That aforementioned baby is now quickly approaching ‘tweenhood, and her younger sister starts kindergarten in the fall.) Until recently, I thought I’d put all things breastfeeding behind me. But then I started to notice that a growing number of new moms were turning to me for breastfeeding advice, saying they hadn’t been getting the nonjudgmental support they needed. I wondered why so many were coming for me for help. When I was in those same, vulnerable new-mom shoes, I turned to my hospital’s team of lactation consultants for support and assistance. Don’t other new moms have the same sort of resource? Turns out that in an increasing number of cases they don’t.
Even though current medical research stands firmly in support of the benefits of breastfeeding for mothers and babies, tight economic times have forced some area hospitals to cut or limit their lactation support programs.
Replacing board-certified lactation consultants with nurses who’ve sat through a breastfeeding course may not sound like a major hardship. In many cases, a visit with a skilled nurse is all a new breastfeeding mother needs, but postpartum nurses are often busy with other crises and may not have the time required to really focus on breastfeeding issues.
“Having certified lactation consultants on staff in a hospital contributes to better outcomes with breastfeeding by helping to identify problems early,” says Catherine Adeboye, RN, IBCLC, one of two lactation consultants at Regions Hospital in St. Paul, a busy city hospital averaging 2,500 births per year. “If you expect overwhelmed new parents to take their baby home and struggle on their own or travel to an outpatient facility for support, many are going to give up on breastfeeding altogether.”
At Ridgeview Hospital in Waconia, Terri Loscheider, RN, has been working with mothers and newborns for 30 years. She attributes her hospital’s impressive rise in breastfeeding initiation rates — from 50 percent 30 years ago to over 80 percent today — to increased focus on lactation support. “There’s been a real cultural change around here,” she says.
Now, Ridgeview understands the larger cultural benefit of providing comprehensive breastfeeding support. The hospital — which averages 1,200 births a year — employs three part-time lactation consultants. “We’ve got the whole team on board,” Loscheider says.
At Woodwinds Hospital in Woodbury, two lactation consultants are on staff. The hospital — which averages 1,800 births per year — offers pre-and post-natal breastfeeding classes and complementary outpatient breastfeeding support. “We get notes all the time from people who want to thank us for helping them get started with breastfeeding,” says Lynn English, RN, IBCLC. “We also hear from people that they chose to have their babies at Woodwinds because of the lactation support available.”
Research shows that women make most of their family’s healthcare decisions, and hospitals are increasingly atuned to the power of making a new mother feel good about their services. “A woman who has a positive birth experience — and a big part of this includes comprehensive breastfeeding support — is going to come back to a hospital,” Adeboye says.
In a perfect world, financial support for breastfeeding initiatives wouldn’t be tied to marketing research, and new moms would get strong, medically sound lactation support while they were still in the hospital — plus continuing advice and tips from experienced, loving friends and family. But while cultural support for breastfeeding is growing in this country, not every mother has friends and family with real-life breastfeeding experience. The need is still there — and it grows stronger every day.
Another thing that made Breastfeeding Camp different from a regular summer camp is that after 40 hours of training and lectures, campers were required to sit for a board-certified exam. Because I was one of just two participants with no medical background, I faced a realistic worry that I might not pass the test. If I failed, I’d have spent hundreds of dollars and a week away from my family and come back with nothing to show for it.
The exam was held on the last day of camp. Because participants were not allowed to speak to one another while the test is being administered, my fellow campers just handed in their bubble sheets and disappeared. The RNs all finished the 100-question test quickly; I was among the stragglers, and by the time I finally turned in my testing materials, the whole experience felt like a dream. Did I really move to Mankato for a week? Did I spend all that time thinking about breastfeeding? What crazy impulse had overtaken me?
Then, about a month later, a large envelope arrived at my house. Inside was an official certificate stating that I had passed the Lactation Counselor Certificate Exam and had been awarded the right to use the title CLC (for Certified Lactation Counselor). Whew. I’m still formulating plans about how I’m going to use this new certification — but for now at least I can feel confident dishing out the breastfeeding advice I’m often asked to administer.
Andy Steiner, CLC (!), is a St. Paul-based freelance writer.
