'Even the thought of it I didn't like. I just didn't like the idea of him sucking on my breast." Jennifer Buckley (19), from Artane in Dublin, is delighted with her beautiful baby boy. But this teenage mother hasn't even tried to breastfeed two-month-old Dylan Jason.
Buckley never saw her mother, aunts, cousins or other female relatives breastfeeding. Her best friend, whose baby girl was born a few months before Dylan Jason, tried it but went straight back to bottle-feeding after a failed first attempt.
"It didn't appeal to me at all. Fair play to people that do it, but I'd be embarrassed," says Buckley.
Attempting to tackle such ingrained attitudes will be the job of Maureen Fallon, the newly appointed national breastfeeding co-ordinator. The first person to hold the post, Fallon is advising the Government on ways to encourage breastfeeding.
The State has the lowest breastfeeding rate in Europe. In 1994, when only 30 per cent of new mothers were breastfeeding their babies, the Department of Health and Children launched its national breastfeeding policy.
Among the targets was to have a breastfeeding initiation rate of 50 per cent by 2000, with 30 per cent of mothers breastfeeding their child up to four months. The World Health Organisation recommends that babies be breastfed for six months.
The Economic and Social Research Institute is processing the latest statistics for the department, but Fallon predicts breastfeeding rates will fall far short of the target maintains that the 1994 policy "remains a good template", however.
Fallon argues that many of the barriers to breastfeeding are social and that until the practice is normalised they will never be overcome. She identifies an element of "possible disgust" at breastfeeding within Irish society.
"That says a lot about our culture. We're used to seeing breasts as sexual objects or marketing tools, but when it comes to the breast's function all sorts of inhibitions are involved," she says.
She argues that women have been encouraged to doubt their ability to breastfeed and wrongly see bottle-feeding as an equally good choice. "It's a very unequal alternative in many ways," Fallon says.
Breastfeeding promoters cannot operate on a level playing field because of the power of the multinationals that make formula, she argues.
This influence often operates in subtle ways, with even health visitors unwittingly advertising manufacturers by using the promotional items they distribute.
They are not "altruistic or charitable organisations," she says. "They don't give out calendars and pens for no reason. They do it because it works."
Fallon says a "bottle-feeding culture" has been allowed to develop and hold sway for about two generations.
"Women are now not surrounded by a warm chain of support of grandmothers, sisters and friends who have experience of breastfeeding," she says.
Sometimes even midwives don't believe breastfeeding can be successful, often because it's outside their experience.
"Until you have a seedbed of successful breastfeeding women, basically selling it to other women, you won't have those chains of support," she believes.
Fallon sees breastfeeding as a culmination of the reproductive process.
"It's integral to it; it's not separate from it. Yet we choose to use the milk of a lower species of animal to feed our precious children, and through an artificial conduit in the form of a bottle."
Unlike some breastfeeding promoters, Fallon maintains that current maternity-leave provision is adequate "for what the country can afford".
She is also keen to stress the sensual aspect of breastfeeding. "Maybe we should be saying breastfeeding is sexy. Obviously, as health professionals we don't talk in those terms, but maybe we should."
Maura Lavery, who was recently appointed breastfeeding specialist at the Rotunda Hospital in Dublin, says partner support can be a crucial factor in whether a new mother continues to breastfeed when she leaves the maternity ward.
"If that support is not there, it can be the beginning of the end," she says.
Some people argue that breastfeeding does not allow the father an equal opportunity to bond with the child. Not so, says Lavery.
"Just because the mother is breastfeeding doesn't mean there's nothing they can do. A lot of breastfeeding babies will actually settle better with somebody who's not their mother, because the baby will think of feeding when it smells milk from the mother," she says.
Lavery is convinced that most problems breastfeeding mums encounter can be overcome. Some women have flattish or inverted nipples, but these can change during or after pregnancy. Sore or cracked nipples are agonising but can be treated.
"Breastfeeding is the natural way to feed your baby, but it's very much a learned art," says Lavery.
Liz McDonald, a new mother from Leopardstown in Dublin, agrees. She struggled with cracked nipples and mastitis while feeding her first child, Mark, who is now two. "Breastfeeding is the world of the unknown. With Mark, I cried at every feed for five weeks. It was so painful," says McDonald.
But it hasn't put her off breastfeeding Clodagh, her new daughter, despite an awkward start. "I've the benefit of knowing this is par for the course, whereas if this was my first baby I would be getting in a heap," she says. "Now I think it's a huge part of motherhood. I think everyone should try it. When you see the list of benefits, you think: I've got to give it a go."
Breastfeeding promotes a bond between mother and child while protecting the baby against infection. Colds, earaches, vomiting, diarrhoea and chest and urinary infections are all kept at bay.
When there is a family history of asthma, diabetes or eczema, breastfeeding can prove a useful preventative measure. It is even thought to combat the threat of cot death and is particularly beneficial for premature babies. Many argue that breastfed babies are brighter than their bottle-fed counterparts.
Benefits for the mother include increased protection against osteoporosis and cancer of the breast and ovaries.
Breastfeeding can be done discreetly and need never involve exposing yourself in public, says Margaret McGuigan of the La Leche League of Ireland, one of the organisations that runs support groups for new mothers around the Republic.
"There's no skin exposed, but if you get nervous and embarrassed yourself, then the baby gets in a very distressed state. It's then that everybody notices," she says.
Describing her new baby, David, as "mobile", McGuigan says breastfeeding does away with the need to carry a heavy bag containing bottles and sterilising equipment.
"Lots of women think about the feed as if it's a huge thing, a big deal. But I've seen a mother in McDonald's putting out Happy Meals for a bunch of children while her baby was feeding. It depends on your attitude."
Immigrant women are setting an excellent example for new Irish mothers when it comes to breastfeeding, says Fallon. "They tend to come with a breastfeeding culture that runs counter to our bottle-feeding culture. It's a very good thing they've brought to Ireland."
Iyabode Ibrahim from Nigeria has been breastfeeding her twin girls, Vanessa and Celine, since they were born in the National Maternity Hospital at Holles Street in Dublin on June 21st.
"Breastfeeding is like God's own medicine," she says. Ibrahim, who has been in Ireland for a month, says almost all Nigerian mothers breastfeed their babies. She is the eldest of six children, all breastfed.
"It's natural and I understand it makes the baby more intelligent," she says, adding that she imagines some Irish women worry that breastfeeding will change the shape of their breasts.
"When the breasts go down, the husband goes out to look for other women. That's what they say!" she jokes.
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