I thought the first month after giving birth would be all about my baby. Turns out, the first month has been all about my breasts.
Before I had a baby, I read a lot of articles/Instagram posts/Twitter threads, and listened to a lot of real-life conversations, about mom-shaming women who choose not to breastfeed and the guilt that comes along with it. I remember wondering why mothers would feel guilty about the choice to feed their babies formula rather than breastfeed. As long as you’re feeding your baby, why do you care how it gets done? And why would anyone else care?
Now I understand the guilt. And I understand the shame. Doctors, nurses, lactation specialists, family members, friends, husbands, the baby itself — they all seem to think it’s a foregone conclusion that I, and every other mother to an infant, will breastfeed.
Within 30 minutes of delivering my baby boy, Miles, the nurse placed him on my left breast and instructed me to squeeze colostrum (pre-milk) out of my nipple. Throughout the two-day hospital stay, each nurse did the same thing as the first one. Some were relatively respectful of my boundaries, placing the baby on my chest and verbally instructing me on how to encourage him to latch and suck down the goods. Others were more invasive, squeezing my breasts with cold hands until I cried out with discomfort.
Then came the pediatricians. First the one in the hospital, then my baby’s actual pediatrician in the clinic after we brought him home. They both led with questions like, “How’s breastfeeding going?” and “How long is he nursing on each side?” rather than “Are you breastfeeding?” or “How’s feeding going?” or “How are you feeling?” I am breastfeeding and plan to continue to do so, but the doctors made me feel resentful on behalf of the mothers who arrive at the hospital with a can of formula and a few bottles, or those who make the switch to formula after a week because breastfeeding just isn’t worth the pain, the time, the frustration, and possibly the infections, the inadequate milk supply, the baby who screams because it’s nearly impossible to latch on.
And I feel resentful on behalf of my future self, the one who may decide to make the switch to formula in lieu of breastfeeding, or to formula feed my second child. I’m already nervous about the possibility of telling our pediatrician I’m no longer breastfeeding. I imagine the conversation going something like this:
Doctor: “How’s nursing?”
Me: [Cringe, face turns red] “I’ve actually stopped breastfeeding. He’s exclusively drinking formula. [Provide all sorts of unsolicited excuses about why I’ve decided to give up breastfeeding, including but not limited to: My boobs hurt, I have clogged milk ducts, the baby doesn’t seem to get enough milk from my breasts, it takes too long, my mental health is suffering, I’m exhausted.]”
Doctor: “Well, I’d really prefer he drink breast milk, but I can’t tell you what to do.”
In reality, the last line of the conversation probably wouldn’t play out like that. The doctor would probably be understanding. More likely than not, she’d say something supportive and offer tips on using formula. But the fact that I think she’d be judgmental is the problem. It points to society’s overwhelming preference for breastfeeding and the message that’s passed along to mothers: Breast is best. Even the back of formula bottles say, “breast milk is recommended.”
My baby is just about three weeks old and he’s eating almost exclusively pumped breast milk. There are a lot of reasons for that:
- The baby lost too much weight within the first few days of life and the doctor recommended feeding him formula after each breastfeeding session to help weight gain.
- He was jaundiced, so the doctor recommended continuing formula because it flushes out jaundice better than breast milk.
- Since day one, the baby has been lazy at the breast. He constantly falls asleep and it’s tough to rouse him and get him to eat.
- Contrast that with the bottle – whether it’s formula or expressed breast milk, the baby loves the bottle and eats from it voraciously.
- I don’t think he gets enough food from my breasts. Maybe that’s because he’s used to eating from a bottle or maybe I really don’t produce enough or maybe it really does make him too sleepy, but even if he sucks on my boobs for an hour, he seem ravenous afterwards.
- Pumping allows me to see exactly how much milk he’s drinking and it lets him drink from a bottle, which I believe is his preference.
I prefer pumping to straight breastfeeding, but it’s only been three weeks and already I’m getting sick of pumping, too. My breasts are constantly hard and engorged, my nipples are sore, I feel like I’m a hostage to the breast pump (I can barely leave the house because I need to pump for 30 minutes every three hours to produce enough milk to satisfy the baby), I think my milk ducts are clogged and I’m worried I’m developing mastitis, and I’m already exhausted enough from sleep deprivation without the additional tiredness that comes from violently pumping milk out of my breasts.
I knew the first few months with a newborn would be extremely difficult. I knew a baby would completely change my life. But I never really thought about the breastfeeding bit. I pictured a cute little newborn in an elephant onesie sucking away at my breast once every few hours. In my imagination, it wouldn’t hurt and it would take about 10 minutes before the baby satisfied himself and drifted back off to sleep, not needing to be fed for several more hours. Maybe that’s naive. In fact, now that I actually have a baby, I know it’s naive. But the mental and physical toll of breastfeeding is one of those things people don’t talk about.
Before I had a baby, I didn’t understand why people judged people for feeding their babies with formula. But I also didn’t really understand why mothers would choose to feed their babies with formula — after all, isn’t it cheaper, more convenient, better for newborn bonding to breastfeed? It seemed like a no-brainer. Now, of course, I completely understand why mothers choose not to breastfeed their babies.
I get that I’m hardly the first — or the thousandth — person to call for an end to mom-shaming women who feed their babies with formula. But I’m one of them. Fed is best.