FFF Friday: "Why I just didn't even try."

One of the reasons why I insist on supporting all formula feeders - regardless of their reasons for not breastfeeding - is because we can never know someone's entire story. There are a myriad of complicated factors that play into our feeding decisions. The thing of it is, this isn't like any other food or health-related decision. Feeding a child from your breast is not like spending your food budget on healthy choices/organic brands, or quitting smoking, or limiting television, or exercising. It's not just a lifestyle choice. For some women, the act of nursing can be physically or emotionally painful - and frankly, that's not anyone's business but her own.

The woman who shares her story for today's FFF Friday wants to remain anonymous, for obvious reasons. But I hope she knows how incredibly brave she is - and how incredibly considerate to tell the truth about her decision in the hopes that it can aid the cause of supporting all women, breastfeeding, formula feeding, or anywhere in between.

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I was 14 when I was raped. Or maybe I was 15. I don’t really know…and to be honest that fact blows my mind, considering every other detail, like the way the forest smelt, the way my throat felt like it had a hot poker shoved down it and the way his eyes looked at me is embedded in my mind like little shards of glass. And wow how those shards have affected ever facet of my life since.  

Truly it doesn’t matter though what age I was. What does matter was that it was someone I trusted. Not a family member or even a family friend but my own boyfriend who I had said no to repeatedly. The fact that I was confused about even calling it rape for many years is important to, because it dramatically shaped the way I felt about my body, who touched it and what I considered trust for over 10 years.

It affected my relationships with almost everyone, but the worst type was the Boyfriend type. Some were understanding and gentle when I suddenly stopped in the middle of being intimate with them, screwed myself up into a ball and sobbed my way through a couple of hours or when everything was going fine and they would touch me in a slightly different way and I would go stiff and unresponsive. Some were impatient and they didn’t stick around. Some like my poor ex husband suffered in silence for years until he was too scared to even touch me. Yeah, so it was a catalyst to ruining my marriage too… when we get down to it. 

But this is a breastfeeding story, not a story about boyfriends.

I come from a place where breastfeeding rates are high. It’s the normal, responsible and practical thing to do. When friends and family did it, I thought it was the most natural thing in the world. When I thought about having babies in the future, I imagined holding that child in my arms and breastfeeding it. 

I felt that way right up until about the 6 month mark of my first pregnancy. At first it started out with feelings of dread. A person, using my body again... even more than it already is during pregnancy. Relying on only me and that’s it – it scared me. It filled me with dread. But I told myself that was nothing, that I’m sure most people feel that way briefly if they would care to admit it. I countered it with positive thoughts and used a sort visualization technique to make my brain realise how wonderful it would be. I read up on breastfeeding benefits, how truly wonderful our bond would be. Etc etc. 

Then I started waking at 2am in sweat after nightmares of a baby suckling blood from me. I tried the visualization stuff some more. Then I started having panic attacks during the day about it and I broke down in tears more than once about it, lets even go as far to say more than once a day about it. I tried talking to people who knew about my past about how I was feeling and they told me it would be fine, to just do it. Others had been through this before, they are fine. 

Then, I started to hate the baby growing inside me. I truly and utterly hated it. Oh god, I resented it. I hated the fact I would be made to feed this thing from my body, FROM MY BREASTS. My most sensitive part of my body, that had had so much damage done to them in the past, the part of my body that my partner had to be careful about touching in case it made me fly into one of my sobbing fits. Someone FEEDING from me? I couldn’t cope.  

I let the hate fester for a month or so. I felt I couldn’t discuss it with anyone because I got the ‘it will be fine’ talk or looked down at for feeling this way about my baby. . I couldn’t even discuss it with my partner or my best friend because I felt like such a failure. My mother doesn’t even know what had happened to me, neither did most of my family so there was no one to turn to there – not without opening a can of worms I didn’t want opened. I felt so ashamed, so guilty… but more than that I hated that creature for making me feel this way.

During the next visit with my midwife, I ended up breaking down. My blood pressure was sky high, I was obviously stressed beyond belief and she asked what was up. I told her I didn’t want the baby to come, that I really didn’t want to be a mother anymore. I was too scared to tell her why because I know how pro breastfeeding they all were but she got it out of me anyway. She looked at me carefully for a minute or two before taking my hand and saying the one thing that stuck with me since.

‘Then you will use formula, it’s a fine replacement and your baby will still thrive, be happy and healthy and more importantly, you will bond with him and love him more than anything you have ever loved before.’ She told me to let it go, to just look forward to holding the baby in my arms and the rest will happen. 

So, that’s how it happened. My hospital notes got changed to ‘will artificial feed’ and we did. My partner gave my baby his first feed and the love on his face said how privileged he felt doing so. When I held my baby in my arms and gave him a bottle I felt so at peace. I could touch his little face and stare into his big bright blue eyes and tell him just how much I loved him and how he was the best thing to ever happen to me… and oh how I meant it.

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If you'd like to share your story with the FFF audience, please email me at formulafeeders@gmail.com.