How Switching to Formula Made Me a Better Mom

Hey Mama!

We’ve all heard the saying, “Breast is best.” But my question is, “Is it?” For as long as I can remember, long before Sweet Pea was even thought of, I’ve always wanted to breastfeed. There was something magical about being my baby’s primary source of nutrition that excited me. I wanted the connection. I wanted the closeness. I wanted to be able to say that milk formed from my body sustained my child for their first year of life, possibly two. I even put off having a breast reduction (that was purely for cosmetic purposes) because I didn’t want it to interfere with my breastfeeding dreams.

However, I soon learned that breastfeeding was not for everyone. Because it definitely wasn’t for me, as my breastfeeding journey came to an end soon after it started.

In a recent letter to my daughter, I briefly touched on how giving up breastfeeding taught me to trust my instincts. But it also made me a better mom. In the days after giving birth, I was a breastfeeding machine. Every two hours, Sweet Pea was attached to my body. Sometimes her feedings would last 30 minutes per nipple, sometimes 15, sometimes I ate while she ate, and a few times I fell asleep, but when the time called for it, I was prepared. I had no problems producing milk, had ample nipple cream, a breastfeeding pillow, and all the support in the world from my lover. The problem? I was tired, I was cranky, I wasn’t eating or drinking enough water, and after numerous improper latches, I began to loathe her feeding time.

Now, an improper latch can make your breastfeeding experience go from sugar to shit. I’ll spare you the details. But let’s just say that the discomfort that I felt caused me to develop a very unhealthy relationship with breastfeeding. The thing that I once looked forward to, that I overly prepared myself for, became the same thing that started to depress me. And I know you’re probably wondering why I didn’t just pump.

Well, pumping was just as uncomfortable. But it was more of a psychological thing. The thought of having this apparatus attached to my breasts, milking me like a cow, made me uneasy. In fact, I didn’t even want to pump while home alone due to my fear of it malfunctioning while expressing milk from my nipples. And no, it wasn’t the pump that was the issue. I had three, and had that same fear with each one.

I also began to see how much work breastfeeding was and how my life revolved around it. Because I was exclusively breastfeeding, when we went out, I had to make sure that travel times were in between feedings. Sometimes I had to feed Sweet Pea as soon as we reached our destination and right before we left. A few times, she became hungry while in the middle of traffic, and there was nothing I could do to comfort her as she screamed. Even if I stepped out without her, I only had a small window to do what I needed to do before her next feeding. I soon, began to wonder what the future of breastfeeding would look like. 

Now, like everything else I’ve done in the past, I approached breastfeeding with the same attitude. That I would give it my all and exhaust every possible resource before throwing in the towel. I talked with friends, a lactation doula, and two different lactation specialists about perfecting Sweet Pea’s latch and overcoming my fear of pumping. But 23 days after I gave birth, I realized that breastfeeding was not for me, and switched her to formula. 

Truth be told, I had been wrestling with the idea of making the switch for quite some time. During late-night feedings, I found myself comparing different brands to determine which one would fit our needs. I even envisioned what life would be like and the freedom I would have if I gave up nursing. If I’m being honest, I knew breastfeeding wasn’t going to last as long as I had hoped. But I was determined to prove myself wrong. Because breast was best, right? And dammit, I wanted my baby to have the best. 

But I also wanted to be my best. And what good would breastfeeding have done, if I wasn’t the best possible mommy to my sweet girl? Yes, nothing can replace breastmilk, but at the same time, nothing can replace being a present mom. A pleasant mom. A rested mom. And a happy mom. 

The night that I made the switch to formula, I went from having to feed baby girl every two hours, to every four. We went from room sharing to her sleeping in her own room. And I went from putting my body through discomfort to ensure Sweet Pea was fed, to knowing that she would still get the same nutrients without any parts of my body being harmed in the process. It was a win for us all.

Now, although I was in a better place after making the switch to formula, I wrestled with a lot of guilt. I often asked myself, “Was I a bad mom?” “Why didn’t I keep going?” And often felt like a failure. In fact, not breastfeeding is what triggered my postpartum depression. And every time I saw someone else doing it or was asked about it, I immediately felt the lowest of lows. I was even judged by a few people. 

See, society will tell you that you must breastfeed. Because anything other than that makes you lazy and a bad mom. I had a friend tell me that I punked out. One relative turned their nose up at me. And another mocked me for saying that breastfeeding was impacting my mental health.

Also, due to societal pressures, I judged myself and soon realized that my breastfeeding aspirations were a bit ego-driven. I wanted to join the ranks of other mothers who came before me. The ones who whipped their breasts out at a moment’s notice to feed their babies when they were hungry. The ones who proudly shared their frozen milk stash. The ones who celebrated nursing their babies for a year or more. I, too, wanted to say that my baby was a breastfed baby. It became more about what I wanted and how I looked in the eyes of others, than how I felt and how that energy was passed on to my baby. But it’s like someone once said, “Let your ego go, so that your soul can begin to do the work for you.”

In the end, I had to do what was best for me and my baby. And since making the switch, we are both healthy, happy, thriving, closer than ever, and meeting all of our milestones. Go us! 

Not to mention, I wasn’t a failure. I achieved my breastfeeding dreams. For my baby’s first 23 days of life, she was fed off of nutrients produced from my body that kept her alive, and rid her of jaundice. I also sought out help when it was needed. All of which, I’m damn proud of.

Now, I’m not trying to tell you what direction to go in when it comes to feeding your babies. But know that fed is best. So, whether you breastfeed, formula feed, or do a combination of both, your baby will be fine. Just do what works for you.

I had to choose myself. And in doing that, it made me a phenomenal mom to an equally phenomenal little girl. And that, my friends, is what’s most important.

With Love,

Racquel