For a lot of moms their first instance of “mom shaming” is about feeding. Whether you decide to breastfeed, use formula, or exclusively pump, someone has judgment. The majority of what is hammered into most moms towards the end of their pregnancy and directly after the baby is born is “breast is best”. Breastfeeding is extremely beneficial and a great bonding experience, but no one mentions all the “what if’s” and what issues you could have that prevent you from having a successful breastfeeding relationship. And of course, no one talks about how you can have a just as meaningful bonding experience with your child with formula or bottle-feeding in general.
With always hearing and seeing that breast is best, it was a no-brainer for me that my kids were going to be breastfed. Breastfeeding for me was a losing battle though. I tried so hard to make is work with both kids. I pushed myself to the point of tears more times than I can count on both hands and feet trying to do the best for my children. You know what’s not the best for your children though? Stressing yourself out so much that you’re in tears, panicking, and just completely on edge.
Let me start from the beginning. With Mark I was immediately feeling like a bad mom and I was completely unprepared for breastfeeding. I had myself thinking that I could absolutely do it, what could stop me? Much to my surprise, Mark would not latch. I tried all the positions and did everything the lactation consultant told me. We just could not get the latch down, probably because upon further investigation, Mark has a lip tie. I had no idea that was even something that could be an issue. His lip tie made it impossible to latch properly and when he did latch it was so incredibly painful that within 24 hours of him being born my nipples were bleeding and completely raw. Still, I continued to try because what mom would I be if I didn’t give him the best form of nutrients?
We got home from the hospital and I kept trying, torn between covering while I tried or just letting it all flop out. After the first week, he was losing quite a bit of weight, but of course he made me a liar when I brought it up to his doctor and latched perfectly for the very first time. At this point, I was beyond stressed out, in pain, and taking it out on Joseph and his useless, not in pain nipples. We all three finally had enough and I decided that Mark being fed was the best thing for him and started him on formula, but I felt guilty. How could I fail him so soon? How could I let myself and the entire mom community down by not doing something so many moms could?
With how guilty I felt for not breastfeeding Mark, when Rose was born I made an agreement with myself that I would do it this time. This time I would go in there like a trooper armed with my Lanolin and nipple ice packs and I would blow it out of the water. I was wrong.
Rose latched perfectly every single time, despite a lip tie, but she also wanted my boob every (literally) 10 minutes. And this is where is all went downhill on roller skates, right from the beginning. Rose was born in very early afternoon but by nightfall I was already losing my grip on the breastfeeding situation.
Rose was waking up every 10 minutes to gnaw on me like a popsicle. I was exhausted, my nipples felt like they’d be in an overtime MMA fight, and Joe was watching me cry for the millionth time when I encountered the worst nurse I’ve ever had. She came in, I told her how much I was already struggling and asked for formula. She told me “no” and came back a few moments later with nipple ice packs and a different nipple cream. The sweet relief they offered was very welcomed at this point, but I really just needed some sleep and some formula. Since I couldn’t get either of those, I was in tears for the duration of the night.
I have never in my life been so happy for shift change. It was my saving grace to see this bouncy blonde nurse walk in the door and ask me if I was ok. I told her no I was no ok, asked for formula, and I swear the heavens opened up and this woman had a halo, because she said “oh honey of course you can” and immediately returned with ready to use bottles for us. After the night we had though I asked her if we could get discharged so I could go back to my own home and away from the worst night I’d had so far in life.
I was not going to let my breastfeeding dream die so easily. I had my pump waiting for me at home and like the milkmaid, I attached myself to that pump and spent countless hours hooked up to this machine. As I realized I was barely getting an ounce between both boobs for every hour of pumping, I watched my dream sink like the Titanic.
The magical thing about it ending this time is that I no longer felt guilty. I didn’t feel like I was a bad mom for not giving my kids less than an ounce of breastmilk and starving them. I came to terms with formula being just as valid a tool for feeding my kids. While I still occasionally hope I could have done it, and maybe one day will, I’m happy that my kids got fed and I wasn’t forcing myself to stress more during a time that’s already so stressful. I will no longer belittle myself because of a guilt that has no place in the mom community. In the end, a fed baby is a happy baby, and I definitely have two very happy, very fed babies.
