Excerpted from the Fall '99 issue of BIRTH GAZETTE.

The drafters of the International Code of Marketing of Breastmilk Substitutes know that putting formula into the hands of breastfeeding mothers leads to use of formula, which undermines breastfeeding. The World Health Organization and UNICEF thus knew that if they wanted to strengthen the health of babies the world over by increasing breastfeeding rates, the makers of breastmilk substitutes would need to be reigned in. However in this country, where no restrictions on baby formula companies apply, targeted marketing tactics by the big baby food companies are not only commonplace, but have been in practice for decades—generations of new mothers in America have been touched by them. I am no exception—and neither was my mother.

I was born in 1970. My young mother was given drugs to make her unconscious for my birth. When I was finally brought to her and we were left alone, she unwrapped my tight swaddling and put me to her breast. I did not latch on to her nipple. Perhaps I was sleepy from the birth, or still under the influence of the "twilight sleep" drugs my mother had been given to help her forget the pain of her labor. Perhaps I just needed help learning what to do. So did my mother. When she asked for help from the attending nurse, she was spoken to scoldingly, "Now, why would you want to do something like breastfeed?"

In my baby scrapbook is the ID card that was clipped to my nursery bassinette, imprinted with the name and address of the hospital I was born in. In the lower right-hand corner of the card is an old fashioned looking pink bear. Fine print along the bottom reads "Ó 1968 Ross Laboratories." On the back of the card, under "For modern mothers who want convenience" are line drawings of Ross products, and below that are the words "Similac and Similac With Iron ready-to-feed infant formulas." On the front side along the top of the card are little boxes that gave the nurses information about me. "BM" has a check. So does "PKU." The word "Breast" has a thick black line through it. I was never breastfed.

Twenty seven years later, my daughter was born in our local hospital in Santa Fe, after transporting from home where we had planned to give birth. I had learned from my mother’s loss: there was no doubt in my mind that I would breastfeed my baby, and our hospital had a good reputation for supporting nursing mothers. At four am when my daughter was ready to eat for the first time, I got wonderful help latching her on from a nurse I totally trusted. I was never questioned about keeping my baby with me in my bed after the birth, and there was no danger of her receiving supplements or a pacifier. Her bassinette, which was hardly used, had an identification card taped to it that read, "I’m a breastfed girl!"

But when it came time to leave the hospital, and we were given armfuls of hospital stuff to take home, we discovered a little cooler bag decorated with pastel bears that looked like they had been drawn with crayons. There was no identifying it until I noticed that under one of the bears, in small print, like an artist’s signature, was "Ó Ross 1996." Upon opening the purple zipper, I discovered that Ross wanted me to have their Breastfeeding Support Kit Cooler Bag, which included two cold packs designed to be frozen flat and slipped into side pockets, and a package of plastic bottles with screw tops (no nipples). And of course, two small, cans of formula. Well, I thought, I’ll leave the formula, but the rest of this package might come in handy. When I got home from the hospital, I inspected my Breastfeeding Support Kit more closely. I discovered that right below where I wrote in my name and phone number on the ID tag inside, were the words, "Compliments of Ross Pediatrics, The makers of Similac and Isomil" (next to the bear which now bore a Ô ). And on the back of the ice packs, I, the breastfeeding mother was told, "We appreciate your support and use of Ross products, including Similac With Iron, Isomil and Similac NeoCare Infant Formulas." And in case I was not an English speaker, the Spanish translation was right next to it.

I was one of the lucky ones. I didn’t receive an unsolicited case of formula timed to arrive on my baby’s due date. Ross didn’t follow up with me, six months after my daughter’s birth, to find out if I ever bought formula and where. But even under the best of these circumstances, Ross managed to slip in. And the hospital I gave birth at, though it now has a full time lactation consultant and a staff of labor and delivery nurses who’ve been trained in lactation management, refuses to apply for WHO and UNICEF’s Baby Friendly Hospital certification, which would indicate official compliance with their ten steps to breastfeeding success. One of these steps, and the one that most US hospitals seem to trip over, is ending formula promotion via the distribution of formula samples. Word has it that our hospital won’t become with Baby Friendly, although they have almost all the other steps already in place, because they don’t want to alienate Ross, who helps to support the hospital with grants and gifts. And so it is that Ross makes sure their formula promotions touch the lives of mothers and babies, generation after generation.