Saturday, April 12, 2014

Formula vs Breastfeeding vs Pumping

*Please note that these are my personal opinions based on my own experiences.* 

One of the biggest issues I see in the "Mommy Wars" is the way we feed our children. It's only understandable that as good mothers we want THEE BEST for our little ones. I think we often forget that the "best" needs to be our PERSONAL best, not the "best" compared to every other mom in the universe. 

There are three options for feeding your new baby. Breastfeeding, formula feeding and exclusively pumping. And like girls in high school, mothers have formed themselves into these groups or cliques to support each other in their "feeding journey." Even worse- they tend to bash those who choose a different method of feeding. Never mind that their children are all healthy and growing.

I have done all three methods of feeding with my two sons. And I can honestly say that each method has it's own struggles. They are hard in their own way. One is not harder than the other. And in my personal opinion, one is not better than the rest. No mother should feel guilty just for feeding her baby! And seriously- you cannot walk into a room full of Kindergarteners and recognize who had breast milk and who had formula. It's not going on their resume. It doesn't count toward their college education. 

Breastfeeding: It is typically the intention of all new mothers to breastfeed. It has been the way to feed an infant since Adam and Eve. It's what our bodies were made to do. It doesn't cost anything, it comes ready made and science has proved that it is the healthiest option-for MOST mothers and their babies. I say "most" because there are several cases that breastfeeding is not the best option. Life saving medication for the mother may harm her baby through the breast milk. Sometimes the child does not thrive on the milk the mother provides. Sometimes the mother does not make enough. Sometimes there are cases where the mother suffered a form of abuse that makes breastfeeding uncomfortable. And sometimes things just don't work out. Guess what? Breastfeeding is HARD! At least it was for me. Some mothers take to breastfeeding like it is second nature to them. No one told me it was going to be hard. I had no idea what I was doing when I tried to breastfeed Andrew. I did a lot if things wrong and was too afraid to ask for help. He wouldn't latch. When I had Benjamin I was more educated and knew what to do. And so far we have been exclusively breastfeeding for almost two weeks. It hurts. I cried. Bleeding and sore nipples are no walk in the park! Not to mention I over produce and often feel like I have milk coming out my ears. My lactation consultant said I'd make a great wet nurse and could easily feed twins. I love breast feeding. I love knowing he is getting it from me, and that I can provide for him on my own. But it is hard. 

Pumping: When Andrew wouldn't latch, I was devistated. I was determined he would get my milk. I felt like it was the only thing I was doing right. So I started pumping. And it was HARD. I'd pump for 30 minutes every two hours. I'd pump, feed it to him, rock him back to sleep and then start pumping for the next feeding. This made me seriously sleep deprived, which also contributed to my PPD. I did all this research on keeping my supply up, which wasn't a problem until I developed mastitis- three times. One landed me in the ER. The pump doesn't completely drain you like a baby would. I often felt like people thought that because I was pumping it wasn't as good as breastfeeding. And that hurt. After all, he was still getting MY milk. Why wasn't that good enough? I was working so hard just to feed him and it still didn't feel like it was enough. I pumped for six months before I switched to formula. And I don't regret it, but I will never do it again. 

Formula: I want to slap someone when they say that formula is for lazy moms. It is NOT for lazy moms. Thank heavens for formula! Think of all the children who would have died without it. It's truly a miracle. But Formula has it's own set of trials. Finding one that is right for your baby can be a nightmare. Andrew was allergic to cows milk based formula and then began reacting to soy formula too. And Hypoallergenic formula is so expensive it makes me sick to think about it. We slowly got him used to cow milk formula, but not without many tearful and sleepless nights. His poor tummy hurt him so much and it killed me to see him in pain. It also stabbed at my heart every time Tyler complained about the cost of formula. He didn't mean to, but it made me feel so guilty that I wasn't breastfeeding and saving us money every month. We often had to settle for macaroni and cheese for a few nights in a row just to make sure we had enough for formula. I felt like breastfeeding moms looked down on me. One breastfeeding group on Facebook is so against formula that they call it the "f-word" and it is forbidden to be suggested or talked about. One mom tried to convince me that formula was poison. But it is truly a scientific miracle and nothing to be ashamed of. 

The biggest problem with my three experiences is that I was so worried about what everyone else thought. I wanted to wear the invisible breastfeeding badge so badly that I looked down on myself when things didn't work out. I felt guilty for making my child healthy. Now what is wrong with that picture? 

And now that I am breastfeeding, I don't think it's worth prancing around with a holier-than-thou attitude. Yes, I'm ecstatic that I'm actually doing it successfully. But my only regret with the way I fed Andrew is my attitude. If I could go back I would only change my way of thinking. Being a mom is hard enough, why make it harder? If something happens and I have to put Benjamin on formula, I will have a much better attitude about it. Because I don't want approval from other moms. I want approval from my sweet baby. I want HIM to be happy and healthy. 

I was an exclusively Breastfed baby. Tyler was formula fed. And guess what? We are both healthy, happy, intelligent adults. Our mothers did their very best for us and they did a fantastic job. That is exactly what I want for my boys. 

Thursday, April 3, 2014

April Fools

April 1st, 2014


I woke up 15 minutes before my 5:00AM alarm. I closed my eyes and thought about all the things I needed to do today. I stewed in my thoughts for so long that surely those 15 minutes had passed and my alarm would go off at any moment. I checked my phone. Only three minutes had passed. 

I decided to get up anyway. I rushed to the bathroom and emptied my stomach. No zofran today! I did my hair. I threw up again, this time loud enough that I woke up Tyler. I double checked all the bags and then made toast for Drew. I threw up again and then woke him up. 

He is normally grouchy if he wakes up too early but today he was all smiles. 

We dropped off Drew and Abbie at my mom's and headed to the hospital. We checked in and settled. I was dilated to a 5. We finally got my IV going and started the pitocen. I got an epidural. And then we waited. 

Three hours passed. I dilated to a 7 and stay there for a while. I started to get nervous that something was wrong as they gave me more pitocen and had me lie on my side. My nurse came to check me once again. Her face became stern. As she pulled her hand away I noticed a good amount of blood on her glove. 

"Sometimes," she said softly, "the cervix swells and causes things to close back up. You're back to a five." 

I caught my breath. Did this mean I would need a c-section? I hadn't prepared myself for that. I felt my anxiety sink in and I began to panic. 

"April Fools!" She shouted. She laughed at my expression. 
"Sorry, I had to do it! You're dilated to a ten! I now pronounce Benjamin ready to come! I'll get your doctor." 

The next thing I know I hear Tyler saying, "Ree! He has hair! And such chubby cheeks! He looks like Drew!"

 And my doctor saying, "He is so big! I can't believe he is so big!" 

And the nurses saying, "Wow, look at the snow storm outside!" 

Sure enough it looked just like Christmas Eve outside on this Spring day. 

7 pounds 14 ounces and 21 inches. Because I was so sick we were told not to expect him to be more than 7 pounds. That is why my doctor was so shocked he came out so big. He was even bigger than Andrew was. What a blessing! 

Andrew desperately needed a nap and could have cared less about his new role as a brother. 
And now I have three sweet Furlong boys to love! 

How lucky am I??