Hi, my name is Jen, and I was formula fed….said no one ever
This is an obvious statement, but for some reason it feels like this is what my children will be asked in every room they enter.
I was a formula fed child. My older brother had been allergic to my moms breast milk. That stressful experience along with sexual abuse in her past, made formula a very easy choice for my mother even before I was born.
I am a healthy adult, never have had any issues, I have a great relationship with my mom in adulthood, but if you read much about the importance of breastmilk these days, you would think that I simply beat the odds that were stacked against me.
In 2023, I became pregnant with our first and many people asked, 'are you going to breastfeed,’ to which I always responded, I think so? I was motivated to try it because it was supposedly so much better, but I was honestly mostly motivated because of the price point… free.99.
BOYYY WAS I CLUELESS. I had heard that it was hard, I had heard that it could be emotional, but I wasn’t a very emotional mom up until that point, so I thought it would continue.
Levi was born, and the first latch went great. I remember thinking that it wasn’t comfy, but I was thrilled that things were going well.
Those first few nights though… with the cluster feeding and the rawness of my nipples… I was a puddle of stress and tears. But I had to feed my baby. I was offered a nipple shield which helped dramatically, so I started using that. Later on of course I was warned of the “incredible evil” that they were. I'll say, without them I'm not sure I would have lasted as long as I did.
We continued nursing with the shield for about 6 weeks. We introduced a bottle around 2 weeks, because I knew I was going to be going back to work.
Around 5 weeks, Levi started to show signs of severe reflux when nursing or bottle feeding.
For about three days he screamed through every feed. Finally we called a specialist that we were blessed to know at the time. She showed us the incredible method of paced feeding that changed the game for Levi.
I remember asking her if I should just bottle feed him to prevent any further issues. Based on our specific situation (there are a few details I have not shared) she said yes.
When she said that, I felt a weight fall off my shoulders. I could stop nursing and it wasn’t just me that made that decision.
You see, I had heard so much from women about how much they loved nursing. I saw the pictures of the women doing it so naturally, whipping it out anywhere and everywhere, and I just could never wrap my head around that.
I never loved it
I don’t know if I ever liked it even.
But, I couldn’t stop nursing right? It was the thing to do. The good mom’s nursed.
But in that moment with the specialist, I was released of that demand. I went on to pump for my son, Levi until he was 13 months. I worked a full time job too.
During that period, I also got mastitis 4 times. I was an oversupplier using mobile pumps, which I know now can be a recipe for disaster. But, I was making the best decisions for my life at the time.
Mastitis I QUICKLY learned was a terrible thing. One of the worst things really. Worse than the flu, and, of course you have a little one to take care of.
When I became pregnant with our second son, I knew I would likely not nurse him very much if at all. I even had a sense of dread over pumping again. Pumping really is like having a part time job following you everywhere you go. But, I had heard the science, and I wanted to give my children the, “best possible option.”
There are so many testimonies encouraging others, “just don’t give up.” Which always hit me with a twinge of shame. I would think back to my first journey and wonder, “maybe if i just tried something different, or tried harder, things would have been fine.”
But when I take a step back and think about everything, I DID TRY……HARD. Each round of mastitis taught be something different. For example, ensuring you have the right flange size for your pumps, or massaging, or drinking certain teas. You name it, I did it.
When our second was born, I did try to nurse him immediately, and it honestly did not go great, but I wasn’t stressed because I knew I could pump.
So in the hospital we gave him formula and I started pumping. I took some deep breaths.
My milk came in quite quickly, and I was pumping about 8 ounces per feed for my two week old…….excessive I know.
I did not mean for this to happen, but that’s just how my body works.
I had so much discomfort all of the time. I would frequently cry because I felt like I couldn’t enjoy my children in between trying to ice, use cabbage leaves, massage, and remembering my pain medicine schedule.
The frustration of all of it is hard to put into words. Just knowing it comes so naturally to some is very frustrating. It’s even more frustrating having the statements in your head like, “you just have to push through,” when everything is telling you that you are not feeling like the mom you could be or know that you are, just because of the pressure to produce breastmilk.
Did I mention the pain?
I tried some methods to lower my supply, but it ended with a case of bad mastitis. My husband had to call his parents to come care for the kids while he drove me to the ER with a 103 fever.
They gave me some antibiotics and it helped.
I remember crying during one painful pumping session after the hospital visit. I said to my husband, “I can’t do this again. If I get mastitis again, can I please stop.”
This was such a silly thing to say to my husband. He never asked me to suffer through any of this in the first place. Our income is low, but regardless, to him, the cost of formula was always worth my peace.
He responded, “yes honey, you can stop whenever you want.”
The 10 day antibiotic definitely helped, but 2 days after I finished them, I woke up at 3 am with a 104 fever.
I honestly felt like I was dying.
Niko (my husband) made the call to my mom at 3 in the morning and she came to care for our children, while we drove to the ER. Grandparents are superheroes.
We went to the hospital and I was expecting a stronger round of antibiotics, but they ended up admitting me for 2 nights.
They were testing my blood and were suspicious that I was septic.
I am no medical professional, but I have watched enough, House, to know that, that was bad.
Once the nurses got me up to my room, the nurse asked what my plan was for moving forward. I said, I wanted to stop breastfeeding all together. Saying this was so hard to get out. I just started sobbing in front of this woman I just met. She was so kind, supporting me at that moment. I couldn’t tell you what she said, but I felt so unjudged and loved. She instructed me that I needed to stop pumping immediately and gave me the details of how to move forward with drying up.
The doctor came in soon after and I was still puffy eyed. Her and my nurse both explained to me that neither of them breastfed their children, and my doctor proudly told me about the Ivy League degrees that her kids had. “They are just fine,” she said. It gave me so much peace. “I didn’t even try,” she said. “And my kids are killing it.”
The drying up process was….long…and painful. Emotional and Physically.
Emotionally I had to rewire my brain. I did not, “give up,” I was doing the thing that was best for me and my family. I was pumping because I wanted to do the, “good mom,” thing, but at that point it had taken me away from my children for two nights, so as far as I’m concerned, breastfeeding was getting in the way of my, “good mom,” goal.
I felt guilty for being an oversupplier and yet choosing to not use it. I can’t imagine the mental struggle it is to stress about supply. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful, but again, I almost died.
I didn’t want God to be upset with me either. Silly, I know, but I thought about how he designed my body to feed my children. I didn’t want to deny that.
His design is perfect, but we live in a fallen world. So my body is just as broken as the rest of the creation, and that’s why we have gifts like modern medicine and FORMULA.
Thank you, Lord.
I’ll never forget one night, while feeding Henry one of his first bottles of formula at home, I was crying when my husband walked in. I told him, I felt so guilty and like a quitter. I told him that while I looked at this precious baby in my arms, I wished that I could have give him, the “best possible option,” like I gave to our first born.
Very simply, my husband said, “you are giving him the best possible option, a happy and healthy mom.” As you can imagine, this sent me into a whole wave of tears, filled with gratitude for the weight he took off my shoulders.
And he was right, I am giving him the best possible option.
What I’ve learned from this experience and many others in life recently, is that two things can be true.
Breast milk can be the, “best option,” but so can formula. Everyone is different.
Some women continue on in their breastfeeding journey with grit and love, but I did too when I chose formula. The experiences and needs are just different.
I’m not here to “deny science,” or anyone’s experience. I’m not pro or against any forms of feeding. My only goal is to share my experience to hopefully help ease the burden that feeding can sometimes cause for new moms.
You’re doing amazing mama’s. Formula, boob, bottle, whatever it is, maybe we can stop having a hierarchy of what is best. Maybe we can all trust that we are all going to make the best possible decisions for our babies based on our different lives and experiences.
Stay informed, stay gracious to yourself, and let’s keep raising these babies with grit and love.