By Barbara Brotman
Tribune staff reporter
Published September 25, 2002
Erika Scott and Charlotte Johnson walked into a room at Cook County Hospital,
and into their kind of challenge.Rashida Collins was there with her newborn
baby, her mind set on feeding her formula."All my friends bottle-feed," said
Collins, 20, of the West Side, who also has a year-old son. She would be
putting her baby in day care in about a month to return to school, and didn't
see how breast-feeding would work, she said. Besides, she thought feeding by
breast would be embarrassing. "You can't just whip it out; everyone doesn't
feel comfortable like that," she said.But it's hard to feel uncomfortable
with Johnson, breast-feeding coordinator at the hospital, and Scott, a
breast-feeding peer counselor, both of whom speak so gently that you almost
don't hear the determination.They are among the front-line troops in the
local battle to change national statistics: Only 51 percent of black women
start breast-feeding after giving birth, compared with 72 percent of whites
and 71 percent of Hispanics. Six months later, only 21 percent of black women
are breast-feeding, compared with 34 percent of white women and 28 percent of
Hispanics, according to the 2000 Ross Mothers Survey conducted by Abbott
Laboratories, which manufactures infant formula through its Ross Products
Division.Former U.S. Surgeon General David Satcher called the breast-feeding
rates among African-American women "alarmingly low," and characterized them
as a serious public health problem.Scott and Johnson took aim at the problem
by taking an affectionate look at newborn Tyre'l, who was sleeping."Have you
tried to put the baby to the breast?" Scott asked."I don't know how," Collins
said. "Someone's going to have to show me."Scott and Johnson didn't have to
be asked twice."She should be in the crook of your arms," Scott instructed.
"Now hold your breast like this--four fingers underneath, thumb on top.""Like
this?" Collins said."Now tickle her chin; wait till she opens up really big .
. . ""No biting, now," Collins said, looking down uncertainly.Tyre'l opened
her mouth, latched on and methodically began sucking."She did it!" Scott
said."Wow! Great job," Johnson told Collins.Despite that successful
beginning, Collins was uncertain whether she would continue. "It feels funny;
but it doesn't feel bad," she concluded. "We'll see how it goes."The Cook
County Hospital Breastfeeding Program, run jointly by the hospital and
Chicago Health Connection, serves patients of all races and has developed
expertise in a variety of cultural attitudes toward breast-feeding. Sixty one
percent of women who deliver babies at the hospital are black. The program's
peer counselors are generally current or former nursing mothers and are
chosen partly to reflect the patient population."The mothers are able to
relate," said breast-feeding clinician Bertha Condes.They speak frankly to
counselors about why they are reluctant to breast-feed.Beyond the myths"In
the African-American population, they hear a lot of myths," said Scott.
"`Breast-feeding hurts.' `Your baby will be spoiled.' `You can't do anything
else but breast-feed.' We've heard it all."They heard more of it a few
minutes later in the neonatal intensive care unit, where 19-year-old Crystal
Ware, of Harvey, was visiting her newborn, Keyon, who was recovering from a
fever."I don't want to get my baby spoiled; I've got to go to work, to
school," she said. "I don't want him to get too attached."But after a few
minutes with Scott and Johnson, Ware was willing to try pumping her breast
milk while Keyon was in the hospital.Johnson assures mothers that nursing
babies will not spoil them."We tell them that babies learn to trust in those
early months," she said. "The only way they learn to trust is when we meet
their needs."The hospital walls are papered at regular intervals with posters
and fliers about breast-feeding. Staffers and peer counselors extol the
benefits of breast-feeding at the prenatal clinic, in the hospital--"in the
elevators, walking through the halls, walking down the street--any
opportunity," said Johnson, who is also a member of the Chicago Region
Breastfeeding Task Force."I breathe breast-feeding," joked Condes.Medical
complications do not dissuade the breast-feeding team; a sick or low
birth-weight baby, staffers say, is in even more urgent need of the
protections provided by breast milk. Some 80 to 85 percent of mothers of low
birth-weight babies in the hospital's neonatal intensive care unit pump their
milk.One of the hospital's successful breast-feeding mothers is Angelique
McKinney, whose baby was delivered by emergency C-section in May after both
she and the 7-month-old fetus were shot on a South Side street.Adriel was
born without a heart rate, but doctors resuscitated her. McKinney underwent
surgery, but a few days later, under the breast-feeding team's guidance,
started pumping her breast milk. It was given to Adriel, who was too
undeveloped to suck, through a feeding tube. Adriel is now doing well and
nursing conventionally."I'll breast-feed, I hope, up to a year," said
McKinney.The percentage of women who start breast-feeding in Cook County
Hospital has increased from 23 percent in 1987, when the program began, to
between 50 and 55 percent today.Nationwide, the trend is improving, too.
Between 1990 and 2000, black women showed the greatest increase in initiating
breast-feeding, the Ross Mothers Survey found. While only 23 percent of black
women were breast-feeding immediately after birth in 1990, nearly 51 percent
were doing so in 2000.Taking on the causeIn the Chicago area, the cause has
been taken on by a growing cadre of peer counselors, staffers from the Women,
Infants and Children special supplemental nutrition program and
African-American nursing mothers themselves."I have approached young pregnant
women in the grocery store. I'll say, `When are you due? How are you going to
feed? Have you ever breast-fed?'" said Marilyn Markham, 35, of North Chicago.
A WIC recipient, Markham nursed all six of her children and last year
received a "Loving Support Award" from the Illinois Department of Human
Services for promoting breast-feeding among African-Americans.The WIC program
provides infant formula for low-income women, but increasingly encourages new
mothers to breast-feed. Jessica Carpenter, breast-feeding coordinator for the
Chicago Department of Health's WIC program, regularly sends staffers to be
trained as certified lactation counselors."What works the best is expecting
[black women] to breast-feed," Carpenter said.She tells staffers not to ask
whether their clients plan to breast-feed, but to ask how long they plan to
do so."That makes breast-feeding the norm," she said.It once was the norm,
said Mishawn Purnell-O'Neal, a public health consultant who last year founded
the Chicago chapter of the African-American Breastfeeding Alliance."At one
time, African-Americans exclusively breast-fed," said Purnell-O'Neal, 33, of
Forest Park. She nursed her now 3-year-old son and is breast-feeding her
6-week-old son, and attributes her success partly to her husband's
support."But when formula became available, [black women] wanted to embrace
that; it seemed like a step up as opposed to being stuck breast-feeding.
Breast-feeding seemed something you did out of necessity," she said.There is
also a lingering distaste for breast-feeding because black women once served
as wet nurses for other people's children, she said. It adds up to a
devastating health problem in the black community, said Purnell-O'Neal, who
has self-published a book titled, "Breastfeeding Facts Over Fiction: The
Health Implications on the African-American Community.""In the city of
Chicago, African-American communities have the highest infant mortality rate,
and the lowest breast-feeding rate; there's a correlation," she
said.Breast-feeding reduces the chances and severity of several illnesses
that contribute to infant mortality, said Rachel Abramson, executive director
of Chicago Health Connection, including sudden infant death syndrome,
necrotizing enterocolitis and gastrointestinal and respiratory
infections.Breast-fed infants experience fewer infections and non-infectious
diseases, and less severe cases of diarrhea, respiratory infections and ear
infections. Studies have suggested that they are also at less risk for
chronic diseases including diabetes, celiac disease, inflammatory bowel
disease and childhood cancer. For mothers, breast-feeding makes it easier to
lose pregnancy weight, minimizes postpartum blood loss and may reduce breast
and ovarian cancer.Breast-fed babies have been shown to be less likely to
suffer childhood obesity, a greater problem among African-Americans than
whites. Breast milk is particularly important for low birth-weight babies,
also a more common health issue among African-Americans.And studies have
shown that breast-feeding reduces the chances a child will develop asthma,
which is also more prevalent among blacks than whites. However, a study
published last week in The Lancet found that breast-fed children are actually
twice as likely to develop asthma and allergies as those who are not
breast-fed.But these benefits have to battle unfamiliarity. Many
African-Americans have never seen a black woman nursing a baby, Markham
said."I have had many children come up to me and say, `What is your baby
doing under there? That is disgusting.' That is a horrifying thing in our
community," she said. "Black women need to see black women
breast-feeding."CindyMarkham does her best to show them. A trained
breast-feeding peer counselor, she speaks to classes at Lake County WIC sites
and to women in her church, where her husband is pastor. She has tried to get
other black women to join her La Leche League International group in Lake
County, where she has been the lone black member for seven years, but in
vain. "I've taken them [to meetings], but they feel very threatened by these
white women who can afford to stay at home when a lot of the black women I
deal with are single moms," she said.Targeting teenage mothers.Teenage
mothers are among the least likely to breast-feed."It's peer pressure," said
Rosie Moreno, a peer counselor at Cook County Hospital. "They don't want to
feel different. And they want to go out shopping and partying; you can't be
away for 2 1/2 hours" while breast-feeding.Johnson tells teens that
breast-feeding gives them a powerful bond with their babies even if their own
mothers do most of the child care.Bottle-feeding insulates young mothers from
the demanding nature of good parenting, Markham said."It's convenient; they
can get [the] grandmothers to keep their baby," she said. "But what does that
do? ... They don't feel like mothers."And they may be more likely to have
additional children, she said, because it seems relatively easy.At Cook
County Hospital, the breast-feeding program keeps a watch out for anything
that might make breast-feeding hard. As they left the postpartum ward, Scott
and Johnson noticed an infant sucking on a nipple from a bottle. Artificial
nipples can lead to confusion when a baby tries to latch on to the real
thing, the breast-feeding team says. They were given out by a baby
photographer who wanted to keep the newborns quiet."Oooh," said Johnson
softly. "We're going to have to talk to somebody."----------For more
information, contact the African-American Breastfeeding Alliance at
877-532-8535; the Chicago chapter by e-mail at [log in to unmask]; or the
La Leche League at 800-LA-LECHE.
Copyright © 2002, Chicago Tribune
Cindy Fagiano
Peer breastfeeding Counselor
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