Breastmilk vs. Formula

I wasn’t going to write about this but I want a record of how I felt this week for future reference and to show people that breastfeeding ISN'T for everyone. 

To say that this week was easier than the first week would be a complete lie. Things quickly went from bad to worse as Josh, Cyril and I tried to sort out how to feed our little boy. The midwives kept saying I had the right equipment, produced loads of milk, and Cyril was latching on beautifully and getting plenty of milk, which was evident by his wet and dirty nappies, and his consistent weight gain. However, while Cyril was thriving I was falling further and further down the rabbit hole. Josh, and most likely Cyril, observed as the baby blues continued and started to resemble postpartum depression. I couldn’t go a couple hours without crying and every time Josh brought Cyril in to be fed I would cry because I hated breastfeeding. I’m not sure why I hated it, perhaps it was the pain, bleeding, and constant soaking of milk. However, as with my natural birth plan, I hadn’t researched any other options, I was breastfeeding and that was it, there was no other option in my opinion. I’ve never judged people who feed their children formula or with a bottle, it’s their decision and to be honest I don’t see any real difference as far as future health and outcome is concerned. After all Josh was formula fed and I was breastfed but we’re both just as healthy and intelligent as each other and you would never know how we were fed as infants by looking at us. 

However, I was set on breastfeeding, probably because it was the most eco-friendly and organic option. I believe this determination, and close-minded thinking, made my depression worse. Josh kept saying, “I don’t see the big deal with feeding him formula, you’re clearly not happy and I hate seeing you cry everyday.” I wouldn’t entertain the thought of formula feeding. Then, I woke up with a 102F fever at 2am and couldn’t care for Cyril, I had violent shaking and chills followed by uncontrollable sweating. I couldn’t even stand up to comfort Cyril as he screamed inconsolably so I had to wake Josh to take care of him. This fever, and my lack of being able to care for my baby, carried on for 4 days. I had infectious mastitis in my right breast. I watched as Josh looked after Cyril, and cried because I wasn’t bonding with him, the only time I held him was when I was feeding him and I basically drenched him in tears every time, partly because I was in pain and partly because I was exhausted. We have a big baby; he likes to eat A LOT of food, which meant I was feeding him approximately every 2 hours for 30-40 minutes. You do the math, if I was lucky I’d get 45 minutes of sleep in between feedings.

The house became a prison to me because I wasn’t comfortable feeding in public. I was afraid to leave the house in case he got hungry. This again pushed me further inside myself. Then my midwife came to visit, had a look at my breasts and nipples and suggested I pump for a few days to let them heal, after all I’m sure Cyril didn’t enjoy blood in his milk. I began pumping and felt a relief, not only was it pain free but Josh could now help with the feedings. She also suggested we purchase some formula in case I couldn't pump enough to feed him. We fed him one formula bottle before bed and he slept for 4 hours and because Josh and I were sharing the feedings I got the most sleep I’d had since going into labour and it felt glorious. I entertained the idea of exclusively pumping but then recalled a conversation I had with a friend.  She said she spent 6 hours a day attached to a wall pumping because she was so hard on herself about her daughter getting breast milk.  When she looked back she realised she’d wasted weeks of bonding with her daughter, weeks that she would take back now if she could. As I pumped away, and Josh fed Cyril, I realised that pumping every 3 hours was worse than breastfeeding because I had no bonding with Cyril, not that our breastfeeding sessions could be classed as bonding but at least I was holding him then.

Through many tears, Josh and I concluded that we would bottle feed Cyril. I would pump every 5 to 6 hours until he was sleeping through the night and we would supplement the remainder of his feeds with formula. Since I produce a lot of milk, he’s currently getting 50% breast milk and 50% formula.  We’ve been doing this for 3 days now and guess what I haven’t cried once. In fact, I’ve been able to get out of the house and go for a walk and today I went to a baby and toddler group at the village hall because I felt rested, my mastitis had finally cleared, and I didn’t have to worry about racing home to feed Cyril to avoid doing it in public.

One of my friends from California, unknowingly, helped me make this decision. She was one of the only people I spoke to that was completely unbiased,  non-judgemental, told me the pros and cons of both and basically just let me vent without telling me what decision I should make. One thing she told me that has stuck in my mind was “It’s your responsibility to FEED your baby, NOT breastfeed your baby.” I made my final decision based on the fact that if I was unhappy, Cyril would be unhappy. We decided Cyril would rather have a happy mummy and have formula part of the time than an unhappy mummy and get exclusively breast milk. To be honest, this little piglet will take anything you give him, he chugs down his formula just as quick as his breast milk. The one thing I hate is people who pass judgement on those who aren't breastfeeding. There are a lot of reasons why people can't or choose not to breastfeed and I think we should support every mother no matter what decision she makes because at the end of the day the mother knows what's best for her family. Thankfully, my midwife and health visitor were both completely supportive of my decision, in fact I'm still able to attend the breastfeeding support group because I love the girls who attend the class.

I'll try to write another post about Cyril's accomplishments this week, but for right now I'm going to sit back, drink my Guinness and enjoy some quality time with my family :)