IN DEFENSE OF BINKIES

I recently discovered the term "attachment parenting" during a search on the web, and I began reading many homepages written by attachment parents. Most of them wholeheartedly condemn the use of a pacifier, or "binky", as I have always known it. La Leche League International, whose breastfeeding information I have become very enamored with, also strongly discourages anything that could be considered a substitution for the breast.

And that's quite all right, to not use a binky or to have the opinion that binkies are not a good thing. But let me share with you why I have used binkies with my babies, in case you use one too and are feeling guilty by all the binky-bashing on the Internet and in parenting literature, particularly from the pro-breastfeeding crowd.

First of all, I have breastfed all three of my sons for one length of time or another. My first two nursed only a few months due to my job outside of the home and my ignorance. My current baby is going to breastfeed until he's ready to wean himself. Though I don't doubt that "nipple confusion" is a real issue, I have never experienced it in my household. All three of my breastfed sons have used binkies. My first two boys kept their binkies until they each turned 4 years old. How's that for a shocker? (I can hear the shrieks!) Tyler, my youngest, isn't as attached to his binky as his older brothers were to theirs, so I am expecting it to go away far sooner than 4 years. I attribute this to the fact that Tyler is nursing far longer than Keaton or Jaxon did, and this time I have learned to offer breastfeeding as a consolation instead of the binky, when the situation permits.

In the early nineties, when my oldest sons were infants, I also was much younger. I didn't know as much about anything as I do now. "Attachment parenting" hadn't been coined yet. I didn't own a computer. Breastfeeding and parenting books didn't appeal to me. I just figured I could mother my babies instinctually, and if I ran into problems I could ask my Mom, the pediatrician, or any of a host of other mothers around me for advice or help.

I don't remember how I came to have the first binky in my possession. Probably it was given to me at a baby shower. Possibly I even bought a couple more in addition to the ones given to me. I do know that my firstborn, Keaton, had a binky from the get-go. And he LOVED it! Or I should say "them." We had many binkies around, in case one got lost. Every diaper bag had an emergency "backup binky" in it. The binky brought Keaton so much peace and comfort when he was upset (I didn't know back then that I could offer the breast for reasons other than feeding). It helped him drift off when he was overly tired and fighting sleep. In public, when he was bored or tired or both, the binky came in handy to help him get through a shopping trip or other errand. And of course, since I was a working mom back then, I would never leave him in childcare without a binky.

When Jaxon, my middle son, came into the world, his big brother's first gesture toward him was to offer him the binky from his own mouth. We grown-ups were all exceedingly touched. All of us knew how cherished Keaton's binky was. But soon after that, Jaxon started rejecting the binky. Why I offered it to him again a year later is beyond my memory, but I do know that from that time until he was four years old, he had a binky.

The boys didn't suck on a binky constantly. But it was a faithful friend at bedtime, naptime, and during times of sickness or stress. I still fail to see why that is such a terrible thing.

Now, in 2001, I have given birth to my third and final son. He's still a baby. And even though I am infinitely wiser than I was in the nineties, I lovingly brought a binky with me to the hospital. Three of them, to be exact. I even bought the same favorite brand I used to buy for Keaton and Jaxon-Mam. I nursed baby Tyler, I knew I was going to nurse, and I knew I wanted to nurse a long, long time, and I still brought binkies. Mind you, I didn't read La Leche League's Womanly Art of Breastfeeding until weeks after the birth. I just knew what a binky could do. And it did not fail me.

Tyler took his first binky within the first 24 hours. With his little tiny binky in his little tiny mouth, he was able to take all the weighing, measuring, diaper changes, temperature readings, prodding, and foot-poking without even crying. It may be a misguided thought, but even if I could have stuck my own breast nipple in his mouth during those procedures, I am actually kinda glad that he doesn't associate his mother or breastfeeding with those unpleasantries.

Nowadays, Tyler takes a binky pretty much only when he falls asleep on my breast and I need to put him down and get some things done around the house. I carefully pull him off my nipple, sneak in the binky, and he often stays blissfully asleep. As a newborn, he needed the binky in order to sleep at night between nursings, but now I don't even take one with us when we go to bed. I use it just for naps. The binky also is still occasionally offered in public, like at church or at restaurants, and in the car, although he is increasingly likely to spit it out in protest. When he wants to talk or cry, he knows that short of strapping it to his face (which I have never done), he doesn't have to take the binky if he doesn't want to. The choice is his.

Yes, I know that binkies are made of plastic and rubber or silicone. Yes, I'm aware that these are not the greatest substances to put in a baby's mouth. For these reasons especially, I am glad that Tyler is not sucking on one very often. People may think me hypocritical for even owning binkies, in light of all that I preach about the use of plastics, Teflon, toxic household cleaners, and other poisons. Most of us make occasional exceptions to certain beliefs and policies we hold dear, and one of mine is now exposed. It is apparent that the benefits of peace for my babies outweighed the known risks of bodily contact with binky materials. I am guilty of putting on blinders in this instance.

Until I recently saw it in print, I had never thought of the binky as a substitute for my nipple or breastfeeding. To me it's just another tool for nurturing my baby and comforting him. And in spite of what some attachment parenting writers suggest, I cannot hold and nurse my baby every hour of every day, nor at the drop of every single hat. Most of the time I can, but not always. Sometimes his need for some sort of sucking or comfort comes at a very inconvenient time. Like when I'm driving. Or cooking something on the stove. Or trying to worship God. The binky can certainly be a handy blessing in times such as those!

So if you use a binky, and your baby is good-natured like mine is and eager to nurse, don't fret or feel inferior if someone makes a negative comment about it. Unless you truly are substituting an inanimate object for your personal, bodily comfort as the rule, rather than the exception, the binky can be a valuable "friend."

Binky-loving mothers and fathers, unite!