I don’t know if I had ever even heard of Jason Chaffetz until this morning and yet, by lunch, the Utah republican had basically broken my brain. It was not his fault alone, the camel was already begging for a merciful death before Chaffetz ever added his victim-blaming straw. The first thing I read this morning was a breakdown of the GOP healthcare* plan. This is why we can’t have nice things. Because they walk right in, snatch it up, tell us we don’t deserve it, and then take it home for themselves.
Let’s get the obligatory disclaimers out of the way: I fully support a family’s right to feed their baby in whatever way works best for them. Formula is not an enemy. And for women who desire to breastfeed we need to do everything in our power to help them succeed. We should be bulldozing the hurdles and sewing up the loopholes.
I am one of the lucky ones. Privileged. I’m reminded of this as I begin a post in which I am going to lament, bitch, whine, and rant about the lack of adequate paid family leave in this country.
I’ve spent a lot of time in the lobbies of various medical professionals in the last two weeks. And the common question is “awww, he’s so new, how many days old is he?” It’s always fun to watch reactions when I say “seven weeks.” Some people don’t seem to find that odd, and some look really surprised.