When Breast Isn’t Best

  Whether or not we breastfeed, whether or not we stay home, whether or not we vaccinate… When you become a mom there's a whole slue of touchy subjects to add to the likes of religion and politics.

 I do not consider myself an activist. I make personal decisions based on what I know to be true- truths influenced by how I was raised, what I’ve read, who I trust, who I’ve become- all shaping my conclusions and decisions. 

 Some decisions seem to make themselves- I knew I'd go to college, get married, have babies, have a career, breastfeed and have excellent taste in music. But even though you see yourself on a trajectory there is always a sigh of relief when it works out. I graduated from college, I fell in love, I’ve been gainfully employed and I still think my taste in music is phenomenal. Both of my healthy newborn girls took to the breast immediately and both are up on their vaccinations. No hard choices here, just my life unfolding.

  Unfortunately I’ve had to quit what was once, for me, the most natural act.

At three weeks Cecilia had a diaper that didn’t look quite right. The doctor agreed and thought the blood-tinged mucus in her stool might be the result of a milk protein allergy. So I cut out dairy for a week but after another mucus filled diaper I also had to cut out soy, wheat, nuts and eggs. The dietary restrictions were tough but luckily I love to cook and love an excuse to shop at Whole Foods so I made a choice it was worth it to continue breastfeeding.

  For the next couple weeks I studied my newborn’s dirty diapers, even holding them up to the light to ensure all were mucus and blood free. Unfortunately another episode meant giving her a special formula for a week while I pumped… and me becoming an emotional train-wreck. I had no idea how much breastfeeding meant to me and how much I took it for granted. While on the formula her stool was completely normal. I began nursing every other feeding and once again she had a diaper with mucus and traces of blood. Despite my efforts to cut out whatever was bothering her, something in my milk was causing my baby harm. I had to stop.

 Breastfeeding is like having a second umbilical cord. Even when not actively nursing there’s an invisible connection between mother and baby. But now this connection has been severed and although my brain knows my daughter will thrive on her special formula, my heart breaks. I try to look at the bright side, I can eat whatever I want, I can have adult beverages and as much coffee as I desire and I am no longer on a two hour leash. I won’t have to pump when I return to work and there is no reason for me to be the only one to get up in the middle of the night. But I’m mourning the closeness breastfeeding provides and I somehow feel I have failed. Although my pediatrician, ObGyn, parents, husband are all supportive and assure me my baby will still be healthy and happy, it’s hard to shake what has been so engrained in my brain- breast is best.

  It took a few weeks but my body, mind and heart are all coming around to the conclusion that Cecilia will be just fine.  I can now give her a bottle, look into those big blue eyes and bond with her during feedings. I can deal with the now very stinky spit up and poo. And I'm incredibly thankful there is formula out there for babies with this very issue. 

  I’ve also had to admit to myself that not only did I enjoy providing what I believe to be the most natural and beneficial nourishment for my children, but I took pride in being a breastfeeding mom. And now I’ve been kicked out. And now I have to wonder if women are secretly judging me for feeding my baby formula. Even if they don’t mean to. Even if they think of themselves as a ‘pro-choice’ supportive woman... Because I guess without really thinking about it,  I kind of did too.