I learned in residency that if you cant solve a problem you can at least
reframe it.

In 1960, my mother was brought another baby to feed instead of me.  When
she changed his diaper, she knew there was a mistake.

I grew up in a small town, so starting in 7th grade I was in the same
class with Tom.  Every time his name came up, my mother (not generally a
woman to repeat herself) would tell this story.  She always said "feed."
Since she is a Southern woman she left the listener to fill in the rest
of the story.  Since I was raised in bottle feeding culture, I was a
physician before I put it together--I knew Mom breastfed all her
children.  Now I get it--she put a stranger's baby to her breast.  Now,
there was no HIV risk, but there are plenty of other issues(privacy,
staff competence, etc).

My mother has a great fondness for Tom, would always make a point to say
hello to him the five or ten times she was involved in school functions.
He and I were both a little embarrassed by what we interpreted as
inappropiate familiarity.  Now I have a different perspective.  Though I
do not ever see Tom, I see that he was, for a moment, a milk brother.

How sad that HIV concerns now reduce these kind of connections that used
to bind families to each other in fondness.

Elizabeth A. Peyton, MD, physician midwife, [log in to unmask]