The first two days with my newborn were hell.
Those weren't exactly the words I'd expected to come out of my mouth as a first-time mom, but from the moment my new little man laid eyes on my breasts, his reaction was to scream. I had intended to breastfeed, just like I had planned on having my baby sleep through the night at eight-weeks-old; I was aware that things were pretty unpredictable. What I didn't know was that the transition from breastfeeding to formula was going to be, what I perceived at the time, my first failure in motherhood.
Oliver (Olly) was delivered at a downtown Manhattan hospital. After 18 hours of labor, a long pregnancy that left me 55 pounds heavier, and a whole life of waiting to be a mom, the moment had finally arrived.
In the maternity ward, the culture of breastfeeding became my new world. By the time Olly was introduced to my naked chest he was incredibly hungry, and due to my, let's just say challenging nipples, it was as if the poor guy was trying to suck a melon through a straw. But the nurses all seemed to be of one belief system: breast is best. I knew about the general positives of breastfeeding that I had learned in classes and books, so I didn't think they were that out of line for encouraging me.
There's no arguing that the antibodies found in breast milk that help build a healthy immune system cannot be found in formula. I had read that breast milk can reduce the risk of cancer, obesity, respiratory problems, blood disorders and so on, so of course I was going to try to give my child the best start possible. But the nurses' "healthy" encouragement soon became dictated instructions that left me feeling guilty for not doing such a great job.
I met with three lactation consultants, all with different strategies to get Olly sucking, and each one of them remarked on his impatience. But was he impatient or just hungry? I began to question them on why breast milk is leaps and bounds better than formula. They all had the same ambiguous look as they answered by saying, "It's just better for your baby." That was it. It was just "better." So I continued blindly, pushing my two-day-old baby and myself to just be "better."
After a day and a half of different nurses meandering in and casually giving me a purple nurple, telling me that I just had to just grin and bear it, I began to think of them as brainwashed. "If he can't even get the colostrum out, isn't that bad?" I'd said. "He's fine. He just has to learn," they responded. They all said that every new mom has challenges with breastfeeding, but that in the end the rewards always outweigh the struggle.
It wasn't about my struggle though, or my sore nipples, or my frustration -- it was about my new best friend in the world, and he was hungry. That was it. That was all that mattered.
I got the feeling from these nurses that if I were to feed him formula it would be like pouring a bottle of vodka down his throat. At that point, my determination to breastfeed was there not because of my personal belief in the benefits, but because of the social pressure I felt around me.
Towards the end of the second day, tired and defeated, I sat limply holding the back of Olly's neck, trying to place him directly in front of my nipple. As tears gently fell down my cheek, a woman walked into the room. Olly's back was arched and he was screaming bloody murder. The woman leaned in and said with a thick Brooklyn accent, "My baby was just as hungry when he was born and I wasn't producing enough milk, so I supplemented with formula." Promptly sitting up, I looked at her with starstruck eyes; someone was actually going to help me. She took a look around, like a dealer about to sell drugs, and told me that if I wanted, she'd bring me a secret stash of formula.
After I had said, "Yes!" a little too excitedly, she came back with six or seven bottles and hid them in my overnight bag. I was crying as I opened the bottle and attached the plastic nipple. I was so desperate to have my child's belly full that my need to feel competent as a breastfeeding mother disappeared completely. As soon as Olly's lips made contact with that pseudo boob, his eyes fluttered and rolled back blissfully into his head. The room was quiet, and I could actually hear Manhattan's nature sounds: sirens and honking cars. It was so very peaceful.
After arriving home and continuing the struggle for breastfeeding breeziness, I realized that for the first time I was not in control. I felt affected by the perception of my situation rather than just making a decision based on what was best for my new relationship.
I have to say, I envy women who can just whip out their boob and feed their baby easily and naturally. I admire the type of woman who quietly breastfeeds without a hint of judgment towards others who formula feed. I also look up to women who persevered through the latching and the sucking with cracked nipples and infections trying to get to that stage of ease. They can say after a month of hell, "I never gave up and it was terrible, but now it's easy, convenient and my baby is getting breast milk." They are like war vets in my mind, soldiers who endured a battle. And even with my second baby, after the blood and thrush and continuing the battle with a totally different personality and the same issues, I had to look at the situation and decide what I felt was right versus what our current society tells us is right and what a 'good' mother is.
After a couple of months and what felt like hundreds of hours at the pump station, I turned to formula full time. I remember the day that I told our Paediatrician in NYC that I had turned to formula. I had tears in my eyes as I expressed guilt. As she looked down at her chart she said, "Just so you know, there are discrepancies about the scientific evidence that breast milk will, for example, produce a smarter baby or prevent Cancer, or that a formula-fed baby will have a weaker immune system." She then looked at me, as Olly lay sleeping against my bare skin, and said, "See, there is no difference between the way you bond with your baby and all the other breastfeeding moms out there." If Olly hadn't been sleeping so peacefully, I would have jumped into her arms.
When people ask me if I breastfed my boys and I tell them my experience, I wonder if they might think I just didn't try hard enough, or that I'm just not fully educated on the benefits of breastfeeding. But there was my first lesson in parenting: It doesn't matter what they think. What matters is that I have a happy baby.
The Purple Fig is a community where women share personal and relatable stories; no ego, no shame. We're about life, love and all of the stuff that makes us yearn, squirm, and giggle. These stories make up the authentic and intriguing journey of a woman.
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Having said that, I also struggled, and was in incredible pain while on the learning curve. I got over it; it's not about me. Most women's bodies are NOT defective in that they cannot breastfeed - society gives them an easy out, far too quickly. It's just not evolutionary sound, the 'I can't breastfeed' mantra of a vanity culture (the author complains about her 55 lb weight gain - you were pregnant, not training for a marathon. Sheesh.) There are so many options BEFORE resorting to the last choice - nipple shields, pumping, etc. etc. ad nauseum.
Giving your child formula is akin to feeding it canned soup or MacDonalds 7/365. Sure, the kid won't die, but at what cost? Normalizing formula is such a first world cop out. But I'm sure the formula companies and their billion dollar ad campaigns will try to make you feel better about it.
BTW-I wasn't complaining about gaining 55 lbs...to be honest, I'm quite proud of that weight gain, it's like a badge of honour, hehe. I was just illustrating the anticipation I felt for this baby to arrive.
Formula is processed food, period. Not even formula companies deny that one. Compare fresh to canned vegetables. Same thing. Breast milk contains OVER 100 ingredients that CANNOT be mimicked in formula. Nature is not stupid; breastmilk evolved over millenia to become a perfect food for growing infants.
I get that maybe 1% of women really, really cannot breastfeed, for physiological, physical, mental health and chemical reasons (if they are on meds). The 'lighthearted' journalistic approach that bashes 'breastfeeding nazis' is frustrating. Not only does it divide mothers, but it spreads an 'in your face' edgy message about how ok formula is for the hip and career-driven generation.
I knew when I posted that I would get lots angry responses, but I took the chance that I might educate someone along the way.
Please be responsible with your writing.
I feel tremendous sympathy for these mothers, but it does everyone a disservice, including these mothers to turn this issue into a feminist issue of choice. There is an element of choice in the bottle versus breast debate and I agree wholeheartedly that women she be able to make that choice without anyone interfering of passing judgement. But the situations described in the article are not about the right to choose at all. Rather than defending these situations where women are unable to breastfeed as choice, efforts would be better focused on making sure there is adequete support and good information available to support women's actual choices.
This article and then the follow-up comments by the author that reward anyone who agreed with what she wrote and censure of anyone who dares to post a dissenting view as either male or a nipple nazi seem like they have been deliberately constructed to pitch a tedious new battle in a long and tiring war between the breast vs bottle camps. What we are dealing with here is not women choosing to bottlefeed their babies and experiencing judgement because of that.
The mothers the author is defending are those who did want to breastfeed and are unable to because of bad information or lack of sufficient support or some other circumstance. They are not making a choice to bottlefeed, but rather because of difficult circumstances have no choice at all BUT to bottlefeed. So mixed in with all the other societal pressures the mom is feeling is her own anger, disappointment frustration and sadness at not being *able* to choose what she wanted. And then having to defend to the world these circumstances that forced a situation she didnt choose as a choice.
And yes, one does have to make the choice to stop trying breastfeeding and at what point. They could go through six months of hell and depression and still choose to keep going or stop. Whether that decision is being affected by nurses, society, Michael Bloomberg, how their mother fed them, their own beliefs..ect ect., it is still a decision. I did choose to stop breastfeeding...I could have carried on pumping ect ect., but at a point I chose to stop.
I don't wish to turn this into a 'feminist issue of choice'. It's just being *able* to choose to bottle feed and not have people make you feel bad about it. In my case, that's what it was about.
Do they make that call themselves? absolutely! But what do they make it on? The thought that they are going to be subjected to months and months of hell when what they really want to to enjoy their babies? That their babies are starving because they cant make enough milk? What choice is there then? None, really. Its no wonder they are angry, frustrated and feel judged. Who wouldnt? There is so little access to good information and the kind of hand holding support new mothers need and yet when they are left with no choice, all there is left is judgement and suggestions they might have tried harder.
I completely agree that making the choice to bottlefeed is personal and no one else's business. That goes without saying. But I have counselled breastfeeding mothers for close to two decades and while you may not feel it was the case in your experience, for the women who start off wanting to breastfeed, the decision to bottlefeed is not about choice.
The struggles you describe in your own experience are not unusual, but many are preventable with good information and support that begins from birth. Those typical struggles are made worse by many different factors along the way, some of which moms are given the right answer for, but no support, such as not suplementing. Sometimes they are given support, but incomplete information about latch or use of medications and so things go astray. But its very very common for breastfeeding moms having problems to come to a point where this all equals a bad breastfeeding experience and then there is no choice left.
Just saying.
Sometimes it just doesn't work out and baby needs to be fed.
I think kids rock. They're worth all this shit we have to go through. But I totally respect when people don't want kids and choose a different path.
If only women learned to support each other, rather than judge and condemn, what a fantastic community we'd have around us as we navigate the waters of motherhood. Instead we get fanatics, judgements, condemnation and hate.
I have two sons, one formula-fed, one breast-fed for 7 months. Both are healthy, happy, well-adjusted, kind, considerate and lovely young men. Interestingly enough, the formula-fed one has a genius IQ, while the breast-fed one sadly, is only considered 'gifted'. I guess I failed as a mother on that one, huh?
Every mother's experience is her own, no two are the same, and we have no right to judge or criticize.