The winning formula
initially written after the birth of her first child, Rosie re-shares her story on entering into the infant feeding world.
Shopping for nursing bras whilst pregnant in hindsight was a tad arrogant, but there I was holding my breastpads in place whilst an assistant fitted me. Now I look back I wish I could tell myself it’s going to be OK, you will feed your baby, but formula not breast milk.
I knew breastfeeding wasn’t a doddle, but I judged mothers who CHOSE formula. I felt it was a reflection on them. The mistake of my own misjudgement plus the self-loathing of my failure was a heavy burden.
When G was five weeks old I attended a baby massage class with eight other mamas; a bunch of truly wonderful women. Of the nine minis, two were formula fed. I needed to defend myself and tell my side of the story. I was blinkered by my own sob story, ashamed by my bottle hidden away. I neglected to listen and to truly see my new comrades. If I had taken my head out of my arse for a second I would have seen a room full of new mamas, each battling their own demons of motherhood, needing support with the path ahead.
As a formula mama, you are naturally excluded - I am yet to find a local formula feeding support group. But more than that, you’re also on the peripheries of conversations. I was lost when talk turned to the basics of breastfeeding and the lifestyle that comes with it: fashion, websites, social life, food. Over the next few months I became anxious, I felt like the teenage me; worried I had said the wrong thing, fretting I was being talked about. My confidence in my abilities as a mother was wavering.
G was 7 months before the penny dropped about my winning formula. I was walking through the park with another mama. She was telling me about being permanently within a 2 hour radius of her baby. I was gobsmacked. I was independent; with the luxuary of long trips to the hairdresser, nights out on the town, even weekends away. My in-laws gave me independence whilst garnering a close bond with their grandson through feeding. At weekends I got a good nights sleep thanks to my husband. The impending doom of nursery was fear of returning to work rather than worry of how I would feed my child.
I had always seen breastfeeding as a shimmering talisman, just out of reach. A platinum club I aspired to be in. I was beginning to realise I had a good gig with formula feeding, not my first method of choice but boy it had perks!
Frankly I was a bit daft. My friends never judged me, I only had support and love. Becoming a mother does change you, everyone talks about it. For me… I am less judgemental of others and of myself. The flip side is I have become more critical of the system.
We put a lot of emphasis on breastfeeding. The campaign for ‘best’ is sung from every roof top. We’ve become conditioned to believe formula is poisonous. Whilst breastmilk has added benefits, it doesn’t mean that formula isn’t a cracking good substitute. I feel so strongly that the campaign has been to the detriment of some mothers. I am lucky; I found a fantastic bunch of women who helped me see the good in myself again. My baby-blues ebbed but for some the depression sets in. I am not saying this is all linked to feeding, but I bet for a proportion, feeding difficulties plays a critical role.
Perhaps I am still that naive girl in the fitting room, only this time my hope is that we are educated on choices around feeding, we have freedom to choose, the support to carry out our choice and a sisterhood attitude that we all belong to the same club.
Rosie x
#TeamFeed
