Mullach Íd
At the end of spring, I announced that I was going to travel to Ireland to assist in teaching Infant CST Level 2 with Beames CST in Dublin.
That wording mattered.
It would have been easy to say, “I’d like to go,” or “I’m hoping to make it work.” But instead, I said I was going. And once those words were spoken out loud, the rest of the pieces began to organize themselves around that commitment.
It is rarely possible for me to bring my family along on teaching trips, so when the opportunity arose to travel abroad in the summer and make it a shared experience, I didn’t linger in the realm of possibility. As summer approached, I wound down my practice, prepared my clients, and made space for what I had already decided would happen. After my week in Dublin, we would continue on to France, taking a full two weeks to be together, fully present.
There is a meaningful difference between wanting something and deciding something. One leaves room for retreat. The other asks for follow through.
I have always loved traveling. I’ve been fortunate to spend time all over the world, and I remain fascinated by how different and yet how similar we all are. Growing up in California, trips to Mexico highlighted which ideas crossed borders easily and which did not. Years later, in Europe, I noticed fewer differences than before. Trade, globalization, and shared technology have softened some contrasts. Still, I play the same quiet game wherever I go: observe the differences.
I have now studied craniosacral therapy in three countries: the United States, Canada, and Ireland. In each place, I meet parents, hold babies, and listen to their stories. And those stories are shaped, unmistakably, by culture, policy, and expectation.
In the Bay Area, where I grew up and trained, the stories did not surprise me, though they still weighed heavily. Families often wait longer to start parenting. Some are single parents by choice. Many return to work quickly after birth, often following a cesarean section. Breast pumps are covered by insurance, making them accessible and necessary, but also normalizing bottle feeding very early. None of this is good or bad. It simply reflects the realities and unintended consequences of life in the United States.
In Canada, I heard similar stories, but with an important difference. Families had access to more support. They could see multiple providers without the same financial barriers. CST was often covered by insurance. Parents still struggled. Newborn life is still intense. But overall, there was more space to be supported, and that mattered.
Then I arrived in Ireland, and something shifted.
The stories were different.
Again and again, families spoke with conviction about feeding their babies. Not hope. Not preference. Conviction. They did not say, “I’d like to breastfeed if it works out.” They said, “I am breastfeeding.”
I realized I had rarely heard language like that before.
In the United States, feeding conversations often carry flexibility by necessity. Parents return to work quickly. Formula feeding and combination feeding are culturally normalized. These realities shape the language we use. We’ll see how it goes. I’ll try.
And to pause here clearly and intentionally: there is nothing wrong with formula. Formula can be lifesaving. It can be essential. It can be the right and loving choice for a family. Feeding decisions are deeply personal and deserve support, not judgment.
So what creates this difference in conviction?
Money.
Formula is a product. Products have marketing budgets. Breastmilk is not a product. It has no marketing team, no advertisements, no claims printed on a can. The playing field will never be even.
Formula will never replicate breastmilk’s complexity, adaptability, or biological intelligence. They are not the same substance and never will be. But marketing can compensate for that gap by shaping perception. If breastmilk had a marketing budget, the conversation would look very different.
So to hear families speak with such certainty, such determination, such decision about feeding their babies human milk was stunning.
It mirrored something else I had just lived myself.
There is a quiet power in moving from “I’d like to” to “I am going to.” One keeps options open. The other builds a path forward.
And once that decision is made, support matters. Systems matter. Culture matters. But the language we use is often the first signal that we have crossed that threshold.
Sometimes the difference between struggle and momentum begins with deciding we are no longer waiting to see what happens.
