I was a bottle fed formula baby and so was my mother. My husband and his siblings were exclusively breast fed. I had heard that breastfeeding was “the best thing you could do for your child’s health” but was skeptical because I was formula fed and am actually a really healthy adult. In truth breast feeding was appealing because it seemed cheap and convenient. No bottle warming, no formula mixing, and no washing tons of bottles. My husband was supportive either way, “They're your boobs!”. I also heard that breastfeeding would help my body get back to it’s pre-pregnancy condition (I know it sounds selfish but what can I say?).
Cookie and Peanut were preemies who started getting their nourishment through feeding tubes. There is nothing that can put more guilt in a mother than seeing her 3lb babies hooked up to machines with tubes running down their throats. I felt so helpless while they were in the NICU (I’ll write more on the NICU experience later). I was weak, sore, full of pain medication, and low on iron after the surgery. Our hospital had an in room pump as well as a department of nurses dedicated to helping moms breastfeed. There was a lot of pressure to breastfeed at my hospital! I had a coach visit every day, was required to watch videos before I could check out from the hospital, and was given lots of pamphlets outlining the benefits of breastfeeding. Whatever tiny amount of milk I could squeeze out was put into the girls feeding machine which gave me a sense that I was helping them in some way. Unfortunately, pumping was a lot harder than it seemed. In the beginning the machine could pump for 20 minutes and barely squeeze out a drop or two. A nurse taught me hand milking techniques that were supposed to help with my supply but instead made me feel like my boobs were on fire (I can’t imagine what this felt like without my pain medication cocktail). It also made me feel like a cow which was not good for post pregnancy hormones.
After day three in the NICU, the nurses started to try and bottle feed the girls. Whatever they couldn’t finish was put into the feeding tube because weight gain was so important at this stage. My supply started to come in a bit but apparently the “oh so perfect” breast milk I gave them had to be supplemented with a preemie neosure powder in order to give the babies more calories. I struggled a lot with trying to keep up with the twins appetite but they took more and more of the bottle every day. Soon the hospital decided Cookie was strong enough to try and directly breastfeed. A nursing coach came to help me with my first try. It was an awful experience for both me and Cookie. She was so hungry and I was so frustrated that the session ended in tears as I popped a bottle into her mouth. The nurses gave me many techniques to help with latching that may as well ended with me standing on my head while reciting Shakespeare. We kept trying and it did get easier but the girls often got frustrated with my slow flow ending in yet another bottle.
Before I knew it, it was time to take the girls home. This is when things really became tough. I had decided to let the girls have their bottle but I would still give them pumped breastmilk. None of us really got much of a “bond experience” from breastfeeding anyway. Snuggling with them and kissing their precious little heads seemed to make me feel much closer than popping my boob into their mouth. Unfortunately, pumping at a machine can take up to 25 minutes which doesn’t sound so bad until you realise you’re pumping every couple of hours. On top of that, if you want your supply to stay strong then you have to pump through the night too. My weight and energy really took a hit with a mixture of surgery recovery, iron depletion, sleep deprivation, and the calories required to produce enough milk for two babies.
One day, while sitting at my usual pump station both girls decided to throw little baby fits. They were hungry but I was still hooked up to the machine and had at least another 20 minutes of pumping left. My dog thought that it was a great time to have a barking fit at some squirrel he spotted in the backyard and while I was distracted I guess I had broken the seal on the pump cups causing all the precious milk to spill down my pants. Standing there in the middle of my living room with my boobs exposed looking like I had wet my pants with two children and a dog whaling, I decided that my twin girls would be formula babies. I put on my shirt, mixed two bottles with some sample formula we got in the mail, and fed my girls who greedily drank every drop. I haven't breastfed since. I was warned that my breasts would be in a lot of pain as my supply dried up but they actually felt better. I was also told that my mood would darken as my hormones went crazy when I stopped breastfeeding. On the contrary, I felt freed. Free to get more things done, free to snuggle with the girls more, and free to sleep for longer stretches. I didn’t smell like sour milk anymore and I was relieved to get rid of those awful nursing pads. My mood improved and you could feel a sigh of relief go through the house as we all settled into a more manageable routine.
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| Peanut is trying to eat Cookie. |
I sometimes felt a bit guilty about switching to formula but when I think about how much my family’s quality of life seemed to improve I decide it was for the best. Over the next month or two, it seems like everyone I met on the street wanted to know if I breastfed. People at my office would ask,”How are the girls,” followed immediately by, “Are you breastfeeding?” I found this really odd. It seems to have become a social norm to ask this question. What is it any of their business on how I feed my children? Perhaps this is just another sign of how much breast feeding social pressure we have been taught to place on other people. Women who had never even had kids were giving me the stink eye for using the dreaded formula. One lady even suggested I look for a breast milk donation program in our area. I guess other mothers with increased supply either sell or give away their milk so that poor dried up mothers have something decent to feed to their children (please note the sarcasm). Eventually, I just grew thicker skin and ignored the peanut gallery.
So to sum up my post:
Mothers who exclusively breastfeed twins for 1+ years please go to your local bakery and buy yourself a very large cookie. You can eat that cookie on your “breastaversary” (yes that is a thing now).
Mothers who formula feed please ignore the peanut gallery. You are not a bad mother and your children will probably not chastise you when they’re adults about not breastfeeding them.
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| Multitasking. |
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