Part 4

It must first be ascertained, _beyond all doubt_, that a mother is not able to suckle her own child. Many delicate ladies do suckle their infants with advantage, not only to their offspring, but to themselves. “I will maintain,” says Steele, “that the mother grows stronger by it, and will have her health better than she would have otherwise. She will find it the greatest cure and preservative for the vapors [nervousness] and future miscarriages, much beyond any other remedy whatsoever. Her children will be like giants, whereas otherwise they are but living shadows, and like unripe fruit; and certainly if a woman is strong enough to bring forth a child, she is beyond all doubt strong enough to nurse it afterward.”

Many mothers are never so well as when they are nursing; besides, suckling prevents a lady from becoming pregnant so frequently as she otherwise would. This, if she be delicate, is an important consideration, and more especially if she be subject to miscarry. The effects of a miscarriage are far more weakening than those of suckling.

A hireling, let her be ever so well inclined, can never have the affection and unceasing assiduity of a mother, and, therefore, cannot perform the duties of suckling with equal advantage to the baby.

The number of children who die under five years of age is enormous—many of them from the want of the mother’s milk. There is a regular “parental baby slaughter”—“a massacre of the innocents”—constantly going on in England, in consequence of infants being thus deprived of their proper nutriment and just dues! The mortality from this cause is frightful, chiefly, occurring among rich people who are either too grand, or, from luxury, too delicate, to perform such duties: poor married women, as a rule, nurse their own children, and, in consequence, reap their reward.

If it be ascertained, _past all doubt_, that a mother cannot suckle her child, then, if the circumstances of the parents will allow—and they ought to strain a point to accomplish it—a healthy wet-nurse should be procured, as, of course, the food which nature has supplied is far, very far superior to any invented by art.

Never bring up a baby, then, if you can possibly avoid it, on _artificial_ food. Remember, as I proved in a former conversation, there is in early infancy no _real_ substitute for either a mother’s or a wet-nurse’s milk. It is impossible to imitate the admirable and subtle chemistry of nature. The law of nature is, that a baby, for the first few months of his existence, shall be brought up by the breast; and nature’s law cannot be broken with impunity. For further reasons why artificial food is not desirable at an early period of infancy, see answer to 35th question. It will be imperatively necessary, then—

“To give to nature what is nature’s due.”

Again, in case of a severe illness occurring during the first nine months of a child’s life, what a comfort either the mother’s or the wet-nurse’s milk is to him! it often determines whether he shall live or die.

But if a wet-nurse cannot fill the place of a mother, then, asses’ milk will be found the best substitute, as it approaches nearer, in composition, than any other animal’s, to human milk; but it is both difficult and expensive to obtain. The next best substitute is goats’ milk. Either the one or the other ought to be milked fresh and fresh, as it is wanted, and should be given by means of a feeding-bottle.

Asses’ milk is more suitable for _delicate_ infants, and goats’ milk for those who are _strong_.

If neither asses’ milk nor goats’ milk can be procured, then the following from the very commencement should be given:

New milk, the produce of ONE _healthy_ cow, Warm water, of each, equal parts; Table salt, a few grains; Lump sugar, a sufficient quantity to slightly sweeten it.

Liebig, the great chemist, asserts that a small quantity of table salt to the food is essential to the health of children. The milk itself ought not to be heated over the fire, but should, as above directed, be warmed by the water; it must, morning and evening, be had fresh and fresh. It now and then happens that if the milk be not boiled, the motions of an infant are offensive; _when such is the case_ let the milk be boiled, but not otherwise. The milk and water should be of the same temperature as the mother’s milk, that is to say, at about ninety to ninety-five degrees Fahrenheit. It ought to be given by means of a feeding-bottle, and care must be taken to _scald_ the bottle out twice a day, for if attention be not paid to this point the delicate stomach of an infant is soon disordered. As he grows older the milk should be gradually increased, and the water decreased, until nearly all milk be given.

There will, in many cases, be quite sufficient nourishment in the above; I have known some robust infants brought up on it alone. But if it should not agree with the child, or if there should not be sufficient nourishment in it, then the food recommended in answer to No. 34 question ought to be given, with this only difference—a little new milk _must_ from the beginning be added, and should be gradually increased, until nearly all milk be used.

The milk, as a general rule, ought to be _unboiled_; but if it purge violently, or if it cause offensive motions—which it sometimes does—then it must be boiled. The moment the milk boils up it should be taken off the fire.

Food ought, for the first month, to be given about every two hours; for the second month, about every three hours; lengthening the space of time as the baby advances in age. A mother must be careful not to over-feed a child, as over-feeding is a prolific source of disease.

Let it be thoroughly understood, and let there be no mistake about it, that a babe, during the first nine months of his life, MUST have—it is absolutely necessary for his very existence—milk of some kind, as the staple and principal article of his diet, either mother’s, or wet-nurse’s, or asses’, or goat’s, or cow’s own milk.

37. _How would you choose a wet-nurse?_

I would inquire particularly into the state of her health; whether she be of a healthy family, or a consumptive habit, or if she or any of her family have labored under “king’s evil;” ascertaining if there be any seams or swellings about her neck; any eruptions or blotches upon her skin; if she has a plentiful breast of milk, and if it be of good quality (which may readily be ascertained by milking a little into a glass. “It should be thin, and of a bluish-white color, sweet to the taste, and when allowed to stand should throw up a considerable quantity of cream.”—_Maunsell and Evertson on the Diseases of Children._) If she has good nipples, sufficiently long for the baby to hold; that they be not sore; and if her own child be of the same or nearly of the same age as the one you wish her to nurse. Ascertain whether she menstruates during suckling; if she does, the milk is not so good and nourishing, and you had better decline taking her. Sir Charles Locock considers that a woman who menstruates during lactation is objectionable as a wet-nurse, and “that as a mother with her first child is more liable to that objection, that a second or a third child’s mother is more eligible than a first.”—_Letter to the Author._ Assure yourself that her own babe is strong and healthy, and that he is free from a sore mouth and from a “breaking-out” of the skin. Indeed, if it be possible to procure such a wet-nurse, she ought to be from the country, of ruddy complexion, of clear skin, and of between twenty and five-and-twenty years of age, as the milk will then be fresh, pure, and nourishing.

I consider it to be of great importance that the infant of the wet-nurse should be, as nearly as possible, of the same age as your own, as the milk varies in quality according to the age of the child. For instance, during the commencement of suckling, the milk is thick and creamy, similar to the biestings of a cow, which, if given to a babe of a few months old, would cause derangement of the stomach and bowels. After the first few days, the appearance of the milk changes; it becomes of a bluish-white color, and contains less nourishment. The milk gradually becomes more and more nourishing as the infant becomes older and requires more support.

In selecting a wet-nurse for a very small and feeble babe, you must carefully ascertain that the nipples of the wet-nurse are good and soft, and yet not very large: if they be very large, the child’s mouth being very small, he may not be able to hold them. You must note, too, whether the milk flows readily from the nipple into the child’s mouth; if it does not, he may not have strength to draw it, and he would soon die of starvation. The only way of ascertaining whether the infant actually draws the milk from the nipple, can be done by examining the mouth of the child _immediately_ after his taking the breast, and seeing for yourself whether there be actually milk in his mouth.

Very feeble new-born babes sometimes cannot take the bosom, be the nipples and the breasts ever so good. In such a case, cow’s milk and water, sugar and salt, as recommended at page 45, must be given in small quantities at a time—from two to four teaspoonfuls—but frequently; if the child be awake, every hour or every half hour, both night and day, until he be able to take the breast. If, then, a puny, feeble babe is only able to take but little at a time, and that little by teaspoonfuls, he must have little and often, in order that “many a little might make a mickle.”

I have known many puny, delicate children who had not strength to hold the nipple in their mouths, but who could take milk and water (as above recommended) by teaspoonfuls only at a time, with steady perseverance, and giving it every half hour or hour (according to the quantity swallowed), at length be able to take the breast, and eventually become strong and hearty children; but such cases require unwearied watching, perseverance, and care. Bear in mind, then, that the smaller the quantity of the milk and water given at a time, the oftener must it be administered, as, of course, the babe must have a certain quantity of food to sustain life.

38. _What ought to be the diet either of a wet-nurse, or of a mother who is suckling?_

It is a common practice to cram a wet-nurse with food, and to give her strong ale to drink, to make good nourishment and plentiful milk! This practice is absurd; for it either, by making the nurse feverish, makes the milk more sparing than usual, or it causes the milk to be gross and unwholesome. On the other hand, we must not run into an opposite extreme. The mother, or the wet-nurse, by using those means most conducive to her own health, will best advance the interest of her little charge.

A wet-nurse ought to live somewhat in the following way: Let her for breakfast have black tea, with one or two slices of cold meat, if her appetite demand it, but not otherwise. It is customary for a wet-nurse to make a hearty luncheon; of this I do not approve. If she feel either faint or low at eleven o’clock, let her have either a tumbler of porter, or of mild fresh ale, with a piece of dry toast soaked in it. She ought not to dine later than half-past one or two o’clock; she should eat, for dinner, either mutton or beef, with either mealy potatoes, or asparagus, or French beans, or secale, or turnips, or brocoli, or cauliflower, and stale bread. Rich pastry, soups, gravies, high-seasoned dishes, salted meats, greens, and cabbage must one and all be carefully avoided, as they only tend to disorder the stomach, and thus to deteriorate the milk.

It is a common remark, that “a mother who is suckling may eat anything.” I do not agree with this opinion. Can impure or improper food make pure and proper milk, or can impure or improper milk make good blood for an infant, and thus good health?

The wet-nurse ought to take with her dinner a moderate quantity of either sound porter, or of mild (but not old or strong) ale. Tea should be taken at half-past five or six o’clock; supper at nine, which should consist either of a slice or two of cold meat, or of cheese if she prefer it, with half a pint of porter or of mild ale; occasionally, a basin of gruel may with advantage be substituted. Hot and late suppers are prejudicial to the mother or to the wet-nurse, and, consequently, to the child. The wet-nurse ought to be in bed every night by ten o’clock.

It might be said that I have been too minute and particular in my rules for a wet-nurse; but when it is considered of what importance good milk is to the well-doing of an infant, in making him strong and robust, not only now, but as he grows up to manhood, I shall, I trust, be excused for my prolixity.

39. _Have you any more hints to offer with regard to the management of a wet-nurse?_

A wet-nurse is frequently allowed to remain in bed until a late hour in the morning, and during the day to continue in the house, as if she were a fixture! How is it possible that any one, under such treatment, can continue healthy?

A wet-nurse ought to rise early, and, if the weather and season will permit, take a walk, which will give her an appetite for breakfast and will make a good meal for her little charge. This, of course, cannot, during the winter months, be done; but even then, she ought, some part of the day, to take every opportunity of walking out; indeed, in the summer time she should live half the day in the open air.

She ought strictly to avoid crowded rooms; her mind should be kept calm and unruffled, as nothing disorders the milk so much as passion and other violent emotions of the mind; a fretful temper is very injurious, on which account you should, in choosing your wet-nurse, endeavor to procure one of a mild, calm, and placid disposition.

“The child is poisoned.”

“Poisoned! by whom?”

“By you. You have been fretting.”

“Nay, indeed, mother. How can I help fretting?”

“Don’t tell me, Margaret. A nursing mother has no business to fret. She must turn her mind away from her grief to the comfort that lies in her lap. Know you not that the child pines if the mother vexes herself?”—_The Cloister and the Hearth._ By Charles Reade.

A wet-nurse ought never to be allowed to dose her little charge either with Godfrey’s Cordial, or with Dalby’s Carminative, or with Syrup of White Poppies, or with medicine of any kind whatever. Let her thoroughly understand this, and let there be no mistake in the matter. Do not, for one moment, allow your children’s health to be tampered and trifled with. A baby’s health is too precious to be doctored, to be experimented upon, and to be ruined by an ignorant person.

40. _Have the goodness to state at what age a child ought to be weaned?_

This, of course, must depend both upon the strength of the child and upon the health of the parent; on an average, nine months is the proper time. If the mother be delicate it may be found necessary to wean the infant at six months; or if he be weak, or laboring under any disease, it may be well to continue suckling him for twelve months; but after that time the breast will do him more harm than good, and will, moreover, injure the mother’s health, and may, if she be so predisposed, excite consumption.

41. _How would you recommend a mother to act when she weans her child?_

She ought, as the word signifies, do it gradually—that is to say, she should, by degrees, give him less and less of the breast, and more and more of artificial food; at length she must only suckle him at night; and lastly, it would be well for the mother either to send him away, or to leave him at home, and, for a few days, to go away herself.

A good plan is, for the nurse-maid to have a half-pint bottle of new milk—which has been previously boiled—in the bed, so as to give a little to him in lieu of the breast. The previous boiling of the milk will prevent the warmth of the bed turning the milk sour, which it would otherwise do. The warmth of the body will keep the milk of a proper temperature, and will supersede the use of lamps, of candle-frames, and other troublesome contrivances.

42. _While a mother is weaning her infant, and after she has weaned him, what ought to be his diet?_

Any one of the foods recommended in answer to question 34, page 36.

43. _If a child be suffering severely from “wind,” is there any objection to the addition of a small quantity either of gin or of peppermint to his food to disperse it?_

It is a murderous practice to add either gin or peppermint of the shops (which is oil of peppermint dissolved in spirits) to his food. Many children have, by such a practice, been made puny and delicate, and have gradually dropped into an untimely grave. An infant who is kept, for the first three or four months, _entirely_ to the breast—more especially if the mother be careful in her own diet—seldom suffers from “wind;” those, on the contrary, who have much or improper food, suffer severely. For the first three or four months never, if you can possibly avoid it, give artificial food to an infant who is sucking. There is nothing, in the generality of cases, that agrees, for the first few months, like the mother’s milk _alone_.

Care in feeding, then, is the grand preventive of “wind;” but if, notwithstanding all your precautions, the child be troubled with flatulence, the remedies recommended under the head of Flatulence will generally answer the purpose.

44. _Have you any remarks to make on sugar for sweetening a baby’s food?_

A _small_ quantity of sugar in an infant’s food is requisite, sugar being nourishing and fattening, and making cows’ milk to resemble somewhat in its properties human milk; but, bear in mind, _it must be used sparingly. Much_ sugar cloys the stomach, weakens the digestion, produces acidity, sour belchings, and wind.

If a baby’s bowels be either regular or relaxed, _lump_ sugar is the best for the purpose of sweetening his food; if his bowels are inclined to be costive, _brown_ sugar ought to be substituted for lump sugar, as _brown_ sugar acts on a young babe as an aperient, and, in the generality of cases, is far preferable to physicking him with opening medicine. An infant’s bowels, whenever it be practicable (and it generally is), ought to be regulated by a judicious dietary rather than by physic.

VACCINATION.

45. _Are you an advocate for vaccination?_

Certainly. I consider it to be one of the greatest blessings ever conferred upon mankind. Small-pox, before vaccination was adopted, ravaged the country like a plague, and carried off thousands annually; and those who did escape with their lives were frequently made loathsome and disgusting objects by it. Even inoculation (which is cutting for the small-pox) was attended with danger—more especially to the unprotected—as it caused the disease to spread like wildfire, and thus it carried off immense numbers.

Vaccination is one and an important cause of our increasing population; small-pox, in olden times, decimated the country.

46. _But vaccination does not always protect a child from small-pox?_

I grant you that it does not _always_ protect him, _neither does inoculation_; but when he is vaccinated, if he take the infection, he is seldom pitted, and very rarely dies, and the disease assumes a comparatively mild form. There are a few, very few fatal cases recorded after vaccination, and these may be considered as only exceptions to the general rule; and, possibly some of these may be traced to the arm, when the child was vaccinated, not having taken proper effect.

If children and adults were _revaccinated_,—say every seven years after the first vaccination,—depend upon it, even these rare cases would not occur, and in a short time small-pox would only be known by name.

47. _Do you consider it, then, the imperative duty of a mother in every case to have, after the lapse of every seven years, her children revaccinated?_

I decidedly do; it would be an excellent plan for _every_ person, once every seven years, to be revaccinated, and even oftener, if small-pox be rife in the neighborhood. Vaccination, however frequently performed, can never do the slightest harm, and might do inestimable good. Small-pox is both a pest and a disgrace, and ought to be constantly fought and battled with until it is banished (which it may readily be) the kingdom.

I say that small-pox is a pest; it is worse than the plague, for if not kept in subjection it is more general—sparing neither young nor old, rich nor poor, and commits greater ravages than the plague ever did. Small-pox is a disgrace; it is a disgrace to any civilized land, as there is no necessity for its presence: if cow-pox were properly and frequently performed, small-pox would be unknown. Cow-pox is a weapon to conquer small-pox, and to drive it ignominiously from the field.

My firm belief then is, that if _every_ person were, _every seven years_, duly and properly vaccinated, small-pox might be utterly exterminated; but as long as there are such lax notions on the subject, and such gross negligence, the disease will always be rampant, for the poison of small-pox never slumbers nor sleeps, but requires the utmost diligence to eradicate it. The great Dr. Jenner, the discoverer of cow-pox as a preventative of small-pox, strongly advocated the absolute necessity of _every_ person being revaccinated once every seven years, or even oftener, if there was an epidemic of small-pox in the neighborhood.

48. _Are you not likely to catch not only the cow-pox, but any other disease that the child has from whom the matter is taken?_

The same objection holds good in cutting for small-pox (inoculation)—only in a tenfold degree—small-pox being such a disgusting complaint. Inoculated small-pox frequently produced and left behind inveterate “breakings-out,” scars, cicatrices, and indentations of the skin, sore eyes, blindness, loss of eyelashes, scrofula, deafness—indeed, a long catalogue of loathsome diseases. A medical man, of course, will be careful to take the cow-pox matter from a healthy child.

49. _Would it not be well to take the matter direct from the cow?_

If a doctor be careful—which, of course, he will be—to take the matter from a healthy child, and from a well-formed vesicle, I consider it better than taking it _direct_ from the cow, for the following reasons: The cow-pox lymph, taken direct from the cow, produces much more violent symptoms than after it has passed through several persons; indeed, in some cases, it has produced effects as severe as cutting for the small-pox; besides, it has caused, in many cases, violent inflammation and even sloughing of the arm. There are also several kinds of _spurious_ cow-pox to which the cow is subject, and which would be likely to be mistaken for the _real_ lymph. Again, if even the _genuine_ matter were not taken from the cow _exactly_ at the proper time, it would be deprived of its protecting power.

50. _At what age do you recommend an infant to be first vaccinated?_