Oh no, I’ve become one of THEM!

I was doing some work on the Cyber Doulas blog recently, and I noticed a rather distinct imbalance of information. There were 30 links to articles about breastfeeding, and another three about formula. Guess what? None of them said, “If it’s the right thing for your situation, go ahead and give that baby a bottle. It’s OK.”

And I am kind of sorry for that.

Don’t get me wrong, I am a huge supporter of breastfeeding. As we speak, I am nursing a baby who will be two years old in less than a month, I recently started a breastfeeding support group in my town, and I am studying to become a lactation consultant. I couldn’t be more supportive of breastfeeding, and I think it is hugely important that women have the support they need in order to nurse their children for as long as they choose.

But I also know – quite personally – that not all women have that support.

I had children young. My son was born three weeks before my 19^th birthday, and two daughters arrived in rapid succession. I did not have a strong support system (my ex-husband and I split up for the second, and final, time when baby number three was just shy of two), and there were a lot of things unhealthy in my life.

But I was a good mom, and I did everything for those three little people that I possibly could. Unfortunately, breastfeeding just didn’t seem to be in the cards for us.

My son came into the world following a rather eventful (read: difficult) pregnancy. I was on bed rest for several months for pre-term labor and preeclampsia, and ended up being induced on his estimated due date. Even with all that, I was absolutely adamant that I would have as “natural” a labor as possible. I had taken childbirth education classes, and I knew the benefits, and the risks of medication for baby. I was driven, and with my doula by my side, I fought for what I wanted. Alas, after a long Pitocin-fed labor, baby boy C was delivered by emergency cesarean.

I knew that breastfeeding was the right choice for my baby, and as soon as we could be back together after the surgery, we worked to initiate the breastfeeding relationship. Hours had passed by then, and we were both traumatized from the days we had just experienced.

We had mixed success in the first days. A lactation consultant came to the hospital room to work with us, and while she was supportive and kind, I felt an overwhelming pressure to succeed. There simply didn’t seem to be an option. Human breasts were made to nourish human babies…why was this so hard for me? What was it about me that caused me to struggle with this (seemingly basic) breastfeeding thing? What was my problem?!?

After five days in the hospital we went home, and the struggles continued, as did the pressure. When mixed success started turning into absolute failure, a local program provided a lactation consultant to come to my home. I wanted this to work, so I followed all of their advice. I didn’t give my son a bottle (although it turns out he had been given a few in the hospital, thanks to some “helpful” labor and delivery nurses) or pacifier.

When engorgement became a severe issue, I pumped. Then I pumped some more. And some more. Wow, I pumped a lot in those first weeks.

We fed C from a tiny plastic cup, with a syringe, with everything but a bottle. Looking back (with my now far broader knowledge base) I know there are other things I could have done, but at the time, I did all I could. I know now that I was probably suffering from some postpartum depression, and my home situation was definitely not conducive to working through the issues baby and I were experiencing.

When tiny C was three weeks old, I threw in the towel and decided to bottle feed him. It was one of the hardest decisions of my life – and one of the best for my relationship with my son. Without this total awfulness looming over our heads, we were able to move on with our lives and become a happy, healthy mother/son pair.

I stopped feeling like a failure and started feeling like a mom.

One of my strongest memories from this time was women I coined “nursing Nazis.” These women, both online and in person, made me feel as though the decision I had made was akin to leaving my baby on a doorstep somewhere. My heart told me I had made the right choice, but I allowed others to make me second-guess myself. Constantly.

I am well aware that some of those feelings were probably self-created due to the guilt I felt over not breastfeeding. But I also know that not all of them were. And 14-years-later-me has not done enough to help moms in that situation feel good about their parenting choices.

The moral of the story? If it’s the right thing for your situation, go ahead and give that baby a bottle. It’s OK.