FFF Friday: “We will bond no matter how she is fed…”

Earlier in the week, I shared an expert’s perspective on the emotional and mental health impact of formula feeding. Megan’s story feels like the perfect corollary to the insight offered in that post; a raw, brave account of mental illness and how this illness influenced a truly informed decision not to breastfeed. 

It is so incredibly humbling to get stories like the one below. The fact that you trust me and this space enough to share them here is not taken lightly… and while I hate that any of you even have to write these heartbreaking accounts, I can’t help but celebrate your resilience and willingness to speak your truths in the hopes of helping others feel less alone. 

So thanks, Megan. And thanks to all of you who share and read and participate – you are all amazing.

Happy Friday, fearless ones,

The FFF

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Megan’s Story

During the summer of 2014, I spent two months separated from my husband.  I took our 4 kids, packed up and went to another state to stay with my parents.  Things were pretty tough.  Traumatic would put it mildly.  But there’s a happy ending.  We both desperately wanted our marriage to succeed.  With blood, sweat and tears on both sides, we reached a really good place by the end of the summer – a fantastic place, even!  That fall, reunited both physically and emotionally, we finally made significant progress in so many areas of our lives that we had been struggling to move forward with over the decade of our marriage.  We remodeled our house (which we bought bank owned and in need of repair).  We instituted family rituals and routines that we had always wanted in place, but never quite could manage because we often couldn’t be in the same room with each other – hurt feelings make it hard to pretend that everything is fine.  But mostly, we both felt very strongly that there was another child ready to come to our family.  It was a very exciting, exhilarating time.  And a very anxious time.  Things were still so new.  We had just demolished the foundation our entire lives had been built upon for the last 11 years, and our new foundation was yet to be truly tested.  We were about to do just that – and how.

 

The day after my birthday in September, I started what would be my last menstrual cycle.  We were so thrilled!  This baby was figuratively and literally a symbol of our renewed and healing relationship.  Hope for the future of our family.  Evidence and a symbol of just how far we had come, of the new life we had brought to our union.  I was basking in the glow of being pregnant again.

 

Eventually, however, elation began to give way to a gradual sinking… At first I just thought it was exhaustion from first trimester blahs’.  But as the days began to grow shorter, and colder, we began to see that this was depression.  Depression wasn’t something foreign to me.  I had struggled with major postpartum depression with 3 of my 4 babies, with depression in-between postpartum periods as well.  I had a history of childhood sexual abuse, though, so I mostly attributed my depressive episodes with my work to resolve the effects of that abuse.  I kept figuring “once I get past this issue, I’ll be able to move on with a normal mood”.  Grieving and untangling trauma can be very difficult, and often looks like depression.  As we neared December, however, I hit a new low, even for me.  I went from being just fine and functional in the morning, to being so low that afternoon that I began thinking not just suicidal thoughts, but even thinking that my children would be better off being spared the agony of living with such a mother.  I thought to myself, “I can see how those mothers end up drowning their children in the bathtub.  I can see how that would be merciful”.  Then I wondered, as I brought up the image of the logistics in my mind, how you would drown multiple children, and what would you do with the bodies?  If you did them one at a time, they would freak at seeing the bodies of their siblings…..”  OH MY GOD!!  Did I really just think that???  Right as I thought that, the very clear phrase came into my mind “I need medication”.  That snapped me out of it, and gave me a surge of energy and forward momentum to act on a solution.

 

I reached out to my husband.  I told him he needed to come home.  I was shaken, I was ashamed, I was afraid.  What was happening?  That was NOT like me.  What was going on?  I couldn’t wrap my brain around it, but I knew that this couldn’t happen again, something had to change!  Dealing with things in psychotherapy wasn’t addressing this issue.  What else would??  Could medication really help?

 

 

Near the end of the two months I’d spent at my parents, when things began to calm down and my husband and I had a solid timeframe and plan for our reunification and going back home, my mother sat me down and had a talk with me.  That summer she was finishing up her rigorous PhD program in psychology.  She later said she was too close to the situation to be able to see it clearly for a time, but by the end of the summer, she finally had drawn a few conclusions that put the pieces together.  She read me the DSM-V definition of Bipolar I.  I was crushed.  I fit the description to a t.  I didn’t want to believe it.  Bipolar meant something was wrong with me, and I didn’t want to own that.  That was shameful.  And it meant I had a part in the separation, and I wasn’t the innocent victim.  I needed to be the innocent victim, and I needed him to be the perfect bad guy.

 

Fast forward again to that dismal and garish December.  At this point, my mother’s conversation came back to me in vivid detail.  Maybe she was right!!  A sense of relief washed over me.  This wasn’t my fault!!  I can do something about this that would actually work!  Exercise wasn’t cutting it, praying and reading my scriptures diligently wasn’t cutting it, having a close connection with my husband wasn’t cutting it, having good friends wasn’t cutting it… But if this is bipolar and not just me not “trying hard enough”, then I could see a light at the end of the tunnel.

 

So, at 20 weeks pregnant with my 5th child, I was officially diagnosed with bipolar I disorder, and began taking lamotrigine.  It pulled me out of my depression!  What elation, what relief!  Of course, I obsessively looked up and read every scientific study I could get my hands on, and I was very worried about the effects on my baby, but most studies concluded that after the 1st trimester, baby was at relatively low risk.  Then I began to notice a ramping up of anxiety.  It started gradually, but I began to notice feeling really great, and very productive, but increasingly I began heading toward fully anxious, crawling out of my skin feelings.  And then I realized, 3 weeks in a row, getting to the point where I was becoming paranoid again.  That was enough.  I went back in to my doctor and pretty much insisted he start me on lithium.  I was 32 weeks pregnant.  It helped!  I was so excited, and the case studies on lithium said that as long as baby didn’t have any troubles eliminating or getting dehydrated, that as far as they could tell, lithium didn’t have any measurable side effects.  Yes, they knew it was transferred to baby in breastmilk, but didn’t really see consistent harmful effects.  I felt comfortable with those odds.

 

Then came the day, at 37.5 weeks, when I began to wonder how the hormones of breastfeeding would impact me postpartum.  My biggest fear was having a major mood set back after birth, and for good reason.  I had a very clear history of it.  And, the medications were still helping, but I wasn’t actually feeling rock solid stable yet.  I still was having some ups and downs, just not so extreme.  All the research said that breastfeeding was protective against PPD, but nothing was said about bipolar.  So I asked my psychiatrist and my OB what their clinical experiences were.  They both said that almost universally, when moms are having postpartum mood issues, they fairly immediately improved after ceasing to breastfeed.  Clinical experience has to account for something, doesn’t it?

 

I think the biggest reason I could see their point and trust it was that not even a week before these discussions, I had about 4 hours of “warmup” labor, and it put me into a manic place, followed a few days later by a depressive place.  We increased the dosage of both my mood stabilizers, and that noticeably helped.  So when both my providers agreed with each other about stability and breastfeeding in my situation, I whole heartedly could see their point of view.  If I wasn’t even mood stable before birth, what would be the after birth chances when things really got screwy with my hormones?  It also occurred to me that my psychotic episode the summer before happened while I was still breastfeeding my one year old.  They were right.  Breastfeeding was not the option for me if my main goal was emotional stability.  I was crushed.  And peaceful.  And then obsessive about ordering just the right bottle feeding supplies.  And then crushed.  And then peaceful.  And then obsessive about looking up research to tell me that my doctors were wrong and I could actually breastfeed and I would be able to stay mood stable at the same time….

 

And then my shipment of bottles, pacifiers and all things formula feeding came in.  I could barely look at the unopened amazon box for a few hours.  I placed it on my couch where it could torment me every time I passed it.  Then I’d have a good cry, and busy myself with something to forget it.  Then I finally screwed up enough courage to open the shipping box.  Then I had a good cry, but left all the bottles and things in their original packaging – I wasn’t really going to use these, was I???  Eventually, after enough tears and grumpiness, I decided I would stop thinking about it.  I invited my older daughters to help me open them.  They were thrilled.  They wanted to touch everything, suck on everything (of course) and figure out how everything worked. Bottles and pacifiers are definitely a novelty in our home.  To this point, the only bottles I had ever owned always lived safely covered in thick dust in the cabinet above the fridge (you know, the useless one you can never get in and out of because it’s too high and you always have stuff on top of your fridge in front of it?).  Boy is this a change.  It did comfort me that the small size bottles, when I held them up and imagined feeding my baby from them, felt very close…. Like maybe I could bring baby really close to me like if I was breastfeeding.  Bottles and pacifiers safely in the dishwasher and ready to be sanitized, I needed a good cry again.

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And why was I crying?  I had hope for stability.  I was making choices that would not only benefit my new baby, but all my children and my marriage too.  I was making a choice to skip the living hell that is the ups and downs of bipolar – a choice that would afford me the chance to be in the world of people, living in the moment and enjoying that living.  Bipolar depression is completely exhausting and isolating, and bipolar mania is terrifying and crazy making because you can’t trust your gut or calm down enough to take in the moment.  Why would I want that?  Wouldn’t I want the best thing for everyone I love, including myself?

 

That night, my husband held me while great sobs wracked my frame.  I didn’t want to grieve.  I didn’t want to have to grieve.  I didn’t want to need to grieve.  I wanted to just treat this as a matter of fact, and then move on.  Grieving is scary – what if I get going and can’t stop – what if it’s not actually grief but just that ugly old depression again?  I felt broken, helpless, like a failure… Why did I have to be bipolar?  Why couldn’t I be stable?  Why did I need medications?  Why weren’t they working better yet?  Where was the line between a normal emotional response and a bipolar swing?  In truth, I don’t think they can really be distinguished, after a point.  The feelings are there either way.  The options are learn to sit with it in a way that isn’t destructive, or adjust medications.  After my intense crying session, I felt better.  That was a good sign that this was grief!  But grief usually comes in waves. I woke up the next morning after nightmares about having to bottle feed next to my breastfeeding friends.  I felt so surreal, to be bottle feeding – and horrifying.  I got up, sad and even angry.  Angry that this is my situation.  Angry at myself, angry that this is just part of living and having a body.  I’m grateful for my body and the children I have been able to conceive and give birth to, and the four I was able to breastfeed, even if it was a great struggle for my mental health in every postpartum period.  I’m grateful for this baby too – this little miracle child of the seaming back together of my marriage that was hanging by a thread only just one year ago.  And I feel raw.  I don’t want one more thing put on my plate that I don’t feel I have the capacity to do and do well.  I don’t want to see anyone pregnant and brimming with excitement about breastfeeding.  I don’t want to imagine them taking their brand new baby onto their chest, and having their baby root and suckle.  I don’t want to imagine that and a hundred other images I have in my head from my own babies.  I just want to fall down face first and sob until I have no strength left to sob.   And I want to not have to sob, to be able to either breastfeed, or get over it.

 

So why is it so emotional?  Why can’t I just “get over it”?  I never realized how much of my self worth was wrapped up in my ability to breastfeed, and ultimately in my capacity for perfection.  Good mothers feed their babies, but the best mothers know that “breast is best” right?  Good mothers know that emotional stability and consistency are keys to raising well-adjusted children, but the best mothers are just born with that natural ability.  Good mothers often sacrifice and put their children first, but the best mothers never have needs of their own and can endlessly give whatever their children require without resentment or burnout.  Wow.  What a load of distorted thoughts!!!  Does any of this sound familiar to you?

 

The truth is – the best mothers recognize their limitations, and plan for them.  The best mothers accept reality, get help, surround themselves with supportive people, and don’t try to brute force themselves into good mental health through sheer force of will and determination.  The best mothers recognize that breastfeeding, while extremely biologically engineered to create bonding, is not the same as bonding.  It’s a tool.  Bonding is a choice – one that continues through the child’s entire life span, and has many stages and phases.  You can’t breastfeed your teenager back into a close relationship with you if you haven’t stayed close through his earlier childhood and tween years…..  The best mothers understand that our imperfections are gifts to ourselves and our children.  Seeing that we aren’t perfectly put together all the time lets them know that it’s okay that they aren’t perfectly put together all the time either.  It gifts us all a sense of “we’re in this together – I’m ok, you’re ok”.  Which brings the sweetest sense of safety, connection and reassurance I’ve ever known.

 

The best mothers know that when we love ourselves, warts and all, we are providing the greatest example for our children we possibly can.  An example of just showing up, being transparent, and having self-compassion and self-kindness.

 

And that’s why my bottles are currently sitting in my dishwasher sanitized and ready to be packed into my hospital bag.  That’s why I have histamines and decongestants ready to go to dry up my milk supply.  That’s why I have a list of friends and family who have agreed to help support me after birth.  That’s why I’m still taking my mood stabilizers.  That’s why I’m going to finish writing this, and then go enjoy the last precious days of being a family of only 6, before our world changes to welcome our new one.  She’s precious no matter my weaknesses, and we will bond no matter how she is fed, because I will be emotionally stable enough to enjoy her.

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Want to share your story? Email me at formulafeeders@gmail.com.

The Mental Health Benefits of Formula Feeding – a Guest Post by Anna Glezer, MD

I’m so thrilled to be able to bring you the following guest post, from Harvard-trained clinician Anna Glezer, MD.  Dr. Glezer holds joint appointments in the reproductive psychiatry and OB/GYN departments at UCSF Medical Center, and recently launched a new website, Mind Body Pregnancy.

Enjoy!

-The FFF

The Mental Health Benefits of Formula Feeding

A guest post by Anna Glezer, MD

 

In my clinic, I have spoken with many women who struggled with the decision about how to best provide nutrition for their baby. I remember Cindy, a new mom who had low milk supply postpartum and supplemented her baby’s diet with formula, who expressed feeling inadequate as a mother. I remember Sarah, a second time mom who was taking medications that led to her decision not to breastfeed and the difficult time she had making that decision for herself and her baby. I remember Anne, a woman who felt judged by her peers and even strangers in the street when she would bring a bottle out to nourish her crying child.

As a new mom, you may have heard repeatedly from various clinicians, other parents, and perhaps even random strangers about the benefits and importance of breast feeding. However, not all women are able to breast feed and this article is for you. After reviewing the reasons when formula is the right choice and the negative feelings many women experience when making it, we will discuss all the emotional benefits of choosing to formula feed your baby.

Reasons When Formula is the Right Choice

There could be a wide variety of reasons for choosing formula:

– When taking certain medications that can be harmful through the breast milk. These may include medications for conditions such as multiple sclerosis, certain types of cancer, HIV, or others. Women taking medications for mental health reasons (such as certain mood stabilizers) may choose not to breastfeed because of a lack of data at this time on safety.

– When sleep is a significant issue. For women with bipolar disorder, poor sleep is a common trigger for a mood episode. For women with severe illness, the risks of poor sleep may outweigh the benefits of breastfeeding.

– When breastfeeding causes pain to a degree beyond what is typical. This may be due to medical complications such as recurrent mastitis.

– When breast milk supply is poor (due to a multitude of underlying reasons).

– When breastfeeding is not an option due to a woman’s medical history, such as a history of breast cancer and subsequent surgery.

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The Feelings of Many Women Choosing Formula

Women who initially planned to breastfeed but for whatever reason cannot often go through several stages of feelings:

Guilt – Many women describe feeling like a failure as a mother and guilty for being unable to provide breast milk for their infant. I have had women describe this when they are supplementing with formula and when they are exclusively formula feeding, when they are using formula temporarily and when it is for months.

Anxiety – Moms describe feeling worried about their infants’ future. Am I providing my baby with the best possible start? What about my baby’s health?

Shame – While guilt is the feeling you place on yourself with responsibility, shame is what you feel when the judgement of others falls upon you. Women have told me that their parents, partners, clinicians, friends, and acquaintances have made them feel ashamed of their choosing to formula feed their infants.

Depression – Postpartum depression affects 15% of moms, and difficulty with breastfeeding is a significant risk factor.

Grief – A grieving process is not unusual after a significant loss. In this case, the loss is the expectations a mom may have had about what postpartum will be like and what breastfeeding will be like.

How to Manage These Feelings: Looking at the Emotional Benefits of Formula Feeding

Once the decision to formula feed is made (and this is often not an easy decision to make, requiring careful weighing of choices, hopefully with the support of a partner and nonjudgmental health care professional), the next step is managing all those feelings mentioned above that come with that decision.

Recognizing all the positive mental health benefits of formula feeding can help you achieve this.

  1. First, one of the main reasons breastfeeding is considered so important is that it is an essential time of bonding between mom and baby. This doesn’t change with formula! This benefit remains regardless of what the baby is drinking. The key is in how the baby feeds – in mom’s arms, in a loving, strong embrace, looking into mom’s face and seeing her love. This attachment time between mom and baby leads to healthy bonding and positive well-being for both.
  2. Second, formula feeding can help moms work on their emotional wellness by providing them with flexibility. That might mean that while the partner feeds baby, mom has the opportunity to attend an exercise class, go to a therapy appointment, or call a supportive friend. That might also mean that mom can share night-time duties with her partner or others, allowing for better sleep. Sleep is crucial for good mental health, particularly in vulnerable women.
  3. Third, by formula feeding, you might be avoiding some of the emotional costs of breast feeding. One patient of mine suffered severe mastitis from breastfeeding, complicated by a systemic infection requiring hospitalization, which led to the consequence of post-traumatic stress disorder. Others describe the pressure to breastfeed, coupled with feelings of inadequacy, as the trigger for postpartum depression. Anxiety can rise also after the transition back to work, if you are trying to pump and breastfeed while working full-time. These emotional complications – PTSD, depression, and anxiety can potentially be avoided if a woman is able to move past her and others’ expectations and accept formula feeding as a wonderful way of nourishing a baby.
  4. Fourth, formula feeding helps to promote a loving bond between baby and dad. Some fathers have said they feel left out of the relationship with young infants. This helps to foster that bond, which can also have a positive effect on the partner relationship, alleviating the sense of helplessness and jealousy that can sometimes arise.

In summary, it is essential to recognize that the decision a mother makes about breastfeeding or formula feeding is very individual and depends on her unique set of life circumstances, including physical and mental health issues. Having the support of a partner, family, other moms, or a provider will help when making this choice. Being aware of the positive mental health benefits of formula feeding might help you if you are struggling with this decision and experiencing some of those common negative feelings like guilt or anxiety.

 

About Dr. Glezer:

Dr. Anna Glezer is a Harvard-trained clinician with current joint appointments in the reproductive psychiatry and OB/GYN departments at UCSF Medical Center. She is the founder of Mind Body Pregnancy, a new online educational resource that helps women with their emotional well-being and mental health during pregnancy, delivery, and postpartum

FFF Friday: “Please don’t ask.”

Very often, reading your FFF Friday submissions, I think I could seriously just retire from doing this and leave your stories up here as an archive, and it would be just as effective. Because your stories are so powerful, that they speak for themselves – and all the rest of it just becomes unnecessary background noise.

Fawn’s story, below, is a perfect example of what I’m talking about. It pretty much sums up everything I’ve tried to say in the past 7 years, in a much more concise and artful way. So.. here you go. One of the best diatribes ever written on this issue, in my opinion.

Happy Friday, fearless ones,

The FFF

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Fawn’s Story 

Two weeks ago, I was foolishly optimistic enough to believe I wouldn’t have reason or need to write this.  It’s frustrating to find out that my optimism was misguided naiveté.

I am a mom of four.  I have a brilliant six year old son, a hilarious four year old son, and a beautiful pair of newborn identical twin daughters.  After each birth (and frequently leading up to them), I have been surprised by the number of people who feel the need to ask about our feeding situation.  I’ve been here before; I’m not sure why I thought maybe people wouldn’t ask this time around.  But they do.  And it catches me off guard every time.

So it’s been on my mind lately.  And do you know what my well-considered answer is?  My answer is, “Why do you need to know?”

If you are not my doctor, or my babies’ doctor, why do you need to know?  Are you asking because you’re looking for an ally for whichever side of this ridiculous battle you’re on?  Are you asking out of concern for my babies?  Are you asking, because you’re about to offer to buy some formula?  If it’s that last one, ask away, please, and thank you for the help… if it’s for another reason, please reconsider asking.

If you’re asking because you imagine there’s some sort of right vs. wrong, and you need to know which side I’m on, please don’t ask.  I have more important things to worry about than how other people feed their children.  I trust them to make the best choices for their families, just like I do my best to make the best choices for my own family.quotescover-JPG-94

If you’re asking out of concern for the health of my babies, please don’t ask.  Do you really think you’re more concerned about my children’s wellbeing than I am?  Do you think you know more than our doctors or I do, or that I’m incapable of doing the same research you’re capable of?  Please understand that I am a relatively intelligent person with very reliable reading skills.  I have the same access to the internet that you do, and I have had plenty of time to scour PubMed and other sources for actual scientific research. Don’t insult my intelligence or my love for my children by implying that you care more for them than I do.

If you ask about our feeding situation, and I do let you know that yes, we use formula, please don’t try to convince me otherwise.  See the above paragraph, please.  That should suffice.  But if it doesn’t…

Do you want me to describe for you, in detail, what it’s like to watch your firstborn son cry nonstop for days, until he’s exhausted, and unable to even wake up to eat? How it feels to watch him slowly wither and grow weaker as his tiny little body gets even smaller and lighter?  And then, what it’s like to be nursing, and pumping, constantly around the clock, under the watchful supervision of the lactation consultant.  She’d cheered his beautiful latch even in the hospital!  How, in exhaustion, at twelve days old, we went into her office to weigh him before and after, to discover he was getting almost nothing to eat.  Well, how often did I feel let-down?  How long had I experienced engorgement? I wasn’t sure, perhaps because neither of those things ever really happened.  At this point, our six-pound, twelve-ounce newborn had lost nearly a pound.  There in her office, he turned blue from being so thin and pale, and she scooped him up, grabbed me by the hand, and rushed us downstairs to the emergency room.  I can tell you about how tragically sad it is to watch an ER doctor hold your tiny baby down while they do their best to draw blood from his miniature arm.  Is this what you want to hear, when you ask me why we’re using formula?  I pumped for him for six weeks.  It was six weeks of tears, sorrow, and feeling like a failure, as I sat for an hour at a time to wind up with maybe an ounce of “liquid gold” to give my baby, while other people were getting to actually spend time with him and enjoy him.  I would give anything to go back and have the chance to really enjoy him during that time too.  To offer him a mama that is present and happy.   But at least he got the important part of me.  Right?
Have you seen the sunken eyes and cheeks of a baby that’s slowly being starved?

Should I then go on to tell you how I researched while expecting my second-born son?  How I was determined to get it right this time, this thing that supposedly everyone can do, if they just try hard enough?  I was not a new mom; I knew better than to assume breastfeeding would just happen naturally.  It took work.  I spent months reading everything I could about nursing positions, latches, tongue ties, proper diets.  I would set myself and my baby up for success.  I looked forward to the lactation consultants visiting us in the hospital; I had a number on hand for another IBCLC in case we needed her later.

We needed her later.

Did you know that different babies respond differently to intense, long-term hunger?  This baby didn’t cry.  Or sleep.  He attempted to nurse, literally, around the clock.  And we let him.  For days, he and I slept, ten minutes at a time, every few hours.  The rest of the time, we were topless, sequestered in the bedroom, while he did everything he could to be nourished from my body.  When he began to literally nurse my nipples off, we had the IBCLC over as quickly as we could.

I started supplements to increase my supply.  I drank water.  I ate oatmeal.  We weighed him before and after feeds, and he continued to lose weight.  Eventually our IBCLC resignedly informed me that there was not a lot left that we could try.  I was so thankful when she gave me permission to “give up;” I was tired, depressed, and feeling the struggle of following the same road I’d followed the first time around.  Even with education and support, it just wasn’t working.  I refused to put this baby through what the first had suffered through.  I decided that he deserved a present, happy mom.  And he got it.

Our twins are now eleven days old.  They are vibrant and beautiful.  They are also 34-week preemies.  So far, they’ve spent their entire lives in the hospital, finishing up their development and growing.  It is emotionally trying to be a parent of NICU twins; I cannot imagine what would happen to my self-esteem if I was trying to pump for them.  I know what my body can and cannot do.  I also know that this experience is hard enough for me without failing to feed them properly.  They are thriving on formula under the care of the amazing NICU nurses, and my husband and I (and assorted grandparents) bond with them by giving them bottles and snuggling them every day, as often as we are able.  We are so in love, and we cannot wait to bring them home!

When you second-guess the decision my husband and I made to formula feed them, you send a pretty offensive message.  You’re implying that we don’t care enough about our babies to do what you think is best for them.  You don’t know our history, and I shouldn’t have to relive it by having to explain it to you.  It’s not your business. It was painful enough when it happened; I’d rather not dredge it all up to random acquaintances and strangers who feel entitled to ask.

I thought I was impervious to comments and judgements about our family’s formula use, but I’ve discovered I’m not.  If you’re not directly responsible for my family’s medical care, please don’t ask.  That goes for every mom and baby, everywhere.

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Feel like sharing your story? Email the FFF – formulafeeders@gmail.com.

FFF Friday: “I made a choice and it was the right choice.”

There’s something so quietly profound about the quote I pulled out of Sarah’s story. “I wasn’t going to stop myself from being able to look after him in every other way in order to give him (breastmilk),” she says. That’s really the crux of our argument, isn’t it? That sometimes, you have to choose something that seems less than ideal in order to have what is truly ideal: a bond with your child, a healthy body, a functioning mind.

When you make those kinds of choices, you thank whatever deity you believe – God, Jehovha, Allah, Buddha, Science- for the invention of viable substitutes, that can fill in when the ideal is not ideal. And you know what? I thank him/her/it every time I look at my children’s ideal faces, marvel at their ideal minds, and treasure our ideal bond.

Happy Friday, fearless ones,

The FFF

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Sarah’s Story

When I fell pregnant for the second time (first pregnancy was a miscarriage), I was asked by every health professional whether I planned to breastfeed. I was all for it, it was everything I wanted to do. I thought it would just happen naturally so I didn’t go to any classes and didn’t do much research on it at all.

My son measured big throughout my whole pregnancy and at 38 weeks he was estimated to be about 4.5kg. The doctor decided It was best to be induced which I really didn’t want but I agreed anyway. We had a date within the week and I went into hospital at 39 weeks and 1 day to be induced. Things did not progress overnight with a catheter inserted so I was put on the drip the following morning. I did not cope very well with the pain and I had an epidural which I was adamant I wasn’t getting before labour started! Baby was sitting funny so the pain of the contractions was gone, but I had back pain which lasted the entire time I was in labour. I was so exhausted I spent he whole day drifting in and out of consciousness. By 10pm the midwife told me I had fully dilated but baby’s head wasn’t descending as he was very big. I was terrified of the idea of a cesarian but I agreed. I was taken to theatre at around 12am I believe, I don’t have much memory of the day at all. I was hysterical with fear and exhaustion.

Finally at 1:30am my son was born. He was weighed at 4.9kg and wrapped in a towel and my partner held him on my chest for a few minutes. Suddenly I was passing out again, my baby was taken to nursery and my fiance kicked out of the OR. I don’t remember much except the anesthetist telling me I may need to be put to sleep. I came in and out of consciousness and at one point I was in recovery with nurses all around doing things. I was taken to the adult special care unit and I could barely move my limbs. I had oxygen tubes in my nose, three different canulas with lines going into my arms and i was so tired. My baby was no where to be seen but my fiance assured me he was okay, but hypoglycemic. He had already given him his first bottle in the nursery and while i was disappointed it wasn’t me, I understood why and I wasn’t upset. I was glad it was him that fed him.

The next day I found out I had lost 4 litres of blood when my tired uterus didn’t contract after my son was born. I was very anaemic and that was why I was so tired.  It had also tore bigger than the incision site and I wasn’t allowed to try for more babies for well over a year.  I was encouraged to attempt breastfeeding with the help of the nurses. I felt so overwhelmed with random people touching my breasts, telling me what to do and it was so painful. We didn’t have much success feeding and it was always painful despite being told it would get better it never did. We gave him formula bottles in the hospital after attempting to feed and he took to them very well. They told me because of the large blood loss my body was focusing on producing blood rather than milk. I was sent home on the 5th day after my son was born, still barely able to walk from cesarian pain. It took a week for my milk to come in and it was a very small amount, I tried pumping and I got less than 40ml from both breasts. I discovered I have flat nipples and it was very hard for my son to latch on and the whole experience was very frustrating leaving us both in tears. I began to resent my baby for the way I felt when feeding him. I then got an infection in my wound site and had to take pain medication which was unsafe for breastfeeding. I pumped the whole time I was taking them with the intention of trying again after I was off them.

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Afterwards I sought out the help of a lactation consultant at the hospital where I gave birth. I went in for weekly appointments and we discovered he was getting less than 30ml from each breast. He also had a terrible latch but we had most of this corrected. I tried nipple shields, I even borrowed a hospital grade pump from them and I was about to start taking drugs to increase my supply. I tried a SNS which was too fiddly for me and I couldn’t see myself using it in public. We were giving him bottles this whole time after every feed and I wish i had just stuck with them earlier.

The final stroke happened when my son was just under five weeks old. I was taken to hospital in an ambulance with severe abdominal pain. It was diagnosed as pancreatitis caused by gallstones blocking a duct. It was the worst pain I have ever experienced and I spent a whole night hooked up to morphine just to make it through. I was away from my baby for a week in hospital waiting for surgery to have my gallbladder removed. I missed him so much. By the time I got home my milk was completely gone and I was barely able to pick him up without pain, let alone feed him. I made the call to switch him to full formula feeds.

I struggled for many weeks with the guilt. I cried and cried about my traumatic labour experience, my inability to breastfeed, everything. I still don’t know what it took to realize that I had done nothing wrong. That I’d done my best for him and done the best thing for both of our health and sanity. My partners mother told me that she had formula fed all four of her children from birth, by choice. I don’t feel now that I was unable to breastfeed and was forced into formula feeding. I made a choice and it was the right choice. A stressful breastfeeding relationship was damaging my ability to bond with my baby, and health concerns meant I’d have to put my own health second, keep myself in pain just to give him breastmilk. I wasn’t going to stop myself from being able to look after him in every other way because I was sick, to give him that when it wasn’t benefiting either of us.
I wish there was more information and support out there for mothers who choose to formula feed. Bottle safety, how to prepare a bottle, etc. I have been lucky to not receive judgement from anyone except myself. Even the LC was very supportive with bottle feeding. Mothers, please start supporting each other and your choices. It doesn’t matter whether your baby is formula fed, breast fed or fed with expressed milk, as long as it’s done with love and care. My son is now a happy and healthy 4.5 month old who benefits from having a mum who isn’t stressed to the max while trying to feed him, and we have a beautiful relationship.

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