by Heidi Green
August 06, 2010

My daughter Katie sprained her ankle today. While she gave up breastfeeding long ago, her cries reminded me of something I appreciated with each of my children: Breastfeeding was soothing. It was comforting. It had a powerful ability to calm a child in pain or discomfort. One friend calls breastfeeding a “magic ability;” another calls it a “super power.”

I have used this super power many times over the years, breastfeeding each of my babies during and after their vaccinations. Sadly, for my firstborn, Ben, our first pediatrician didn’t allow breastfeeding during the actual needle stick. Comparing my son’s reaction during those shots to his later reaction to those accompanied by breastfeeding, I was sold on the analgesic effects of breastfeeding—and made sure his sister and brother received the same opportunity to breastfeed during their vaccinations.

Breastfeeding’s magic ability was quite handy during each of my baby’s initial attempts at mobility. When crawling Sam overreached his mark and bumped his head, I put him right to breast. The nursing soothed him, and I could more easily assess the “damage” while he calmed down.

When toddler Katie fell off the short picnic table, I pulled her right into my lap to offer the breast. If the crying stopped thanks to the nutritive and convenient distraction, I was reassured that no real physical harm was done. And, when she was done nursing, Katie would be calm enough to point to what hurt or say a few words about what happened—usually before toddling off to play again.

But this magic ability only lasted as long as each child was breastfeeding. Today, tumbles are inevitable. Falls happen. Boo-boos occur. And my power to soothe isn’t so super.

After Katie’s recent fall, I pulled her into my lap and patted her back. I stroked her hair and murmured gentle words while finding out which body part hurt. The crying didn’t stop as readily; and comfort was a longer time coming.

My children no longer associate injuries with breastfeeding, but I do miss that magic ability to cure any problem. I miss my super power. There’s no Superman-style shirt-tearing, no breast-baring activity going on here, just a hint of nostalgia as I tend to their big kid ouchies. —Heidi Hauser Green, writer for babygooroo.com, mom to Ben, Katie, Sam, and Max