Formula Doesn’t Define My Motherhood
I exclusively formula fed Nolan and Austin. I will exclusively formula feed my third. One of the hardest parts of my feeding journey with my sons was fighting the idea that I was missing out on something.
When I learned I wasn’t producing milk for my first (Nolan), I spiraled. I struggled to believe I was “worthy” to be a mother.
Nolan less than 5 weeks old.
I thought, “If I can’t nurse him, what makes me different than some random lady down there street?”
Leading up to Nolan’s birth, I imagined what motherhood would look like...breastfeeding was a given. It would help me and my child bond. Nursing would be the best gift I could give him. Not producing/ failing never crossed my mind.
Austin, 4 months old.
I thought I’d never know the physical bond that comes from breastfeeding. I wouldn’t give my sons the “very best” food. They would be deficient of essential antibodies from me.
Leading up to having Nolan, I was prepared to breastfeed NO MATTER WHAT. I remember reading, “If there is formula in your house it will undermine your success with breastfeeding.” With that advice, I refused to even have formula in the house as back up.
Devastated doesn’t even describe how I felt when my milk never came. That same book said, “if a woman says she can’t breastfeed, it means she didn’t try hard enough.”
And I tried. I saw five different lactation consultants who all concluded, “I don’t know why it’s not working for you.” I drank the teas, water, beer, and ate the cookies. I pumped. I spend 5 weeks mastering the SNS feeding system. I even got 2 MRIs to check my pituitary glands, which came back normal.
When I finally decided to stop waiting on my milk, I threw away that book. I had a decision to make—stop believing the lie that my motherhood journey was defined by breastfeeding. Instead, I focused on all the ways I did connect with my new baby.
I actually started enjoying Nolan. I found our rhythm. We bonded with every bottle that I held chest to chest. Looking back, I know our bond was close because there’s nothing like staring into your baby’s eyes. Or watching your partner feed your baby.
Formula didn’t make me less than. Formula saved me and my baby.
When we learned that I wasn’t producing milk for my second (Austin) the shame crept back into my mind. But I was confident in formula by then—plus Ryan was leaving for a deployment and I didn’t want to relive the trauma I experienced with feeding Nolan.
I didn’t miss a thing by formula feeding my boys. No matter what happens this third time around, whether my milk comes in or not, I don’t care. My son will get the best formula and the best of me.
Formula doesn’t define my motherhood. I do.