Anna Rahmanan
Writer | Editor | Producer
I hate breastfeeding.
There, I said it. It took some time, and tears, to admit to the fact that, as much as I thought I’d love to nurse my children, I was not able to do so for more than a few months each.
Let’s be clear: I am an advocate for the form of feeding. Countless studies over decades have confirmed that breast milk helps babies fight infections, allergies and a slew of viruses whose mere names send shivers down mothers’ spines. Lots has also been written about the intimacy that develops between a child and his or her breastfeeding parent. I get it: breastfeeding, when done properly, is the very best way to nourish your baby.
And yet, I failed at the task. I was not able to adequately breastfeed either one of my daughters, opting instead for a combination of expressed breast milk and formula.
Although I don’t regret my decision, I spent months feeling guilty about it. On maternity leave and blessed with an overflowing supply of milk, I equated the discomfort I felt while trying to nurse to my inadequacy at motherhood. I waited so long to have children and championed “natural” solutions and foods over artificial ones my whole life… how could I ever opt out of breastfeeding? And, yet, I did.
Why? The simple answer is that I just couldn’t. I felt shackled by my breasts, terrified that I was the only thing standing between my daughters and their nutrition. I felt physical discomfort as soon as my children latched (which took a very long time during each session) and paranoid about how much they were actually eating considering I couldn’t measure their feedings like I would have been able to if using a bottle. I also thrive on a schedule, which is the very opposite of what breastfeeding feels like: you are food on demand.
I might regret admitting this but I also love my freedom, which I can only enjoy if I allow someone else – an aunt, grandma, caretaker or my very own husband – to feed my babies via bottle once in a while so that I could sneak out of the home for some fresh air.
I tried placing Giordana, my first born, on my breast for eight weeks while dealing with a bout of postpartum depression and eventually switched her to a full-on formula schedule. Given the trauma that ensued and shame I felt after that pregnancy, I opted to pump-and-feed my second daughter, Alessia. For nearly three months, I’d pump every three to four hours and then spend another hour feeding her the expressed milk in a bottle. I might have lost out on the intimacy and skin-to-skin time that experts celebrate, but I was at least feeding her “better” food and I knew how much she was eating each day. Did I feel guilty? Sure. Do I regret my decision? Not at all.
Of course, as is the case with just about anything in 2021, my personal choice was dissected in the public sphere. Although my children’s pediatrician urged me not to even try breastfeeding (“if you don’t find pleasure in it, it won’t be beneficial to your children either. Your mental health will suffer”), mere acquaintances, dear friends and family members commented on my decision. “It gets better!” I was constantly told. “It’s not for everyone,” others would say, with what felt like an undertone of judgement, because it was for them.
“You shouldn’t really stop, it’s so much better than formula,” a relative said to me just as I was starting to wean off. My own mother, who witnessed how hard it was for me the first time around and who virtually never breastfed any one of her own four children, urged me to “pump a little while longer” after I had Alessia.
It all had me thinking: Switching to formula is financially taxing (breastfeeding is free, after all), so why do we render it an emotionally taxing decision as well? Why do some women choose to stay away from nursing while others easily do it for a year or longer? And most importantly, why do we judge women who decide not to breastfeed?
To kick off my amateur study in the psychological ramifications of breastfeeding (or not), I sent out a message to a chat of about 100 mothers of kids born in 2021, asking them to share their thoughts on the matter – whether they be for or against nursing. To my surprise, women of all ages and from all walks of life privately reached out to me to vent about the difficulty they had breastfeeding either one or all of their children. Very few extolled the wonders of the breast.
«Breastfeeding is bad,» a 30-something mother who actually nursed both of her children for a time said to me. «It does help with the jaundice, which both of my kids had, but it’s super stressful for the mom, especially the new moms who feel like they are not enough because they can’t breastfeed and usually it’s not their fault. It’s just the way it is. It’s also stressful for the kids as a lot of breastfed babies end up being underweight and have trouble sleeping. Formula kids are calmer.»
«With postpartum depression, breastfeeding just didn’t work,» a soon-to-be mom of four wrote to me. «Firstly, when you are so depressed that you have no appetite, you can’t eat much and it affects your milk. It’s also nice when someone else is able to feed the baby besides you so you can get out of the house for an hour or two. And don’t tell me to pump and give it in a bottle because the time it takes to do that is taken away from your ‘free,’ non-feeding time.»
Although plenty of comments I received centered on the mother’s own relationship with nursing and the constant worry involving the amount of milk produced and difficulties in latching, loads of parents discussed how their decisions unfolded in public and how their personal choices became public matters.
«I find it interesting that one of the first questions people would ask me when they would visit me after I gave birth was: are you nursing or formula feeding?» one of the moms I spoke to revealed. «It’s not a personal question because it’s not a secret but, at the same time, I find it interesting that it’s the first thing that people would ask. It’s just a simple question but I think it says a lot.” After sharing her experience, this particular mother turned the interviewer into the interviewee, asking for my thoughts regarding her revelations.
“Shame,” I thought to myself and said to her. There’s an element of shame involved in one’s decision not to breastfeed that, unfortunately, women nurture. That was rendered apparent throughout every conversation I had with my fellow chat members: every single woman I spoke to followed her negative comments about breastfeeding with a variation of “but breastfeeding is good and I did try.” I was under the impression they found the need to justify their decision to opt out of formula in order for me not to judge them.
One particular mom related her traumatic post-delivery story, one involving countless breast infections and subsequent hospital stays. As striking as her tale was, the following words are what impacted me most. “I feel there is a stigma around non-breastfeeding moms and when someone asks me if I’m breastfeeding, I don’t feel like relating my whole medical history so I just say I am formula feeding but I feel judged right away,” she said. “In my case, though, I really shouldn’t be breastfeeding and it’s fine and my babies are fine.»
Although not meaning to, she offered a justification – a totally valid, scary and medically-approved one – for her decision to go straight to formula following two traumatic breastfeeding attempts. But why did she feel like she needed to give me an explanation? Isn’t that where the issue around shaming begins? Why do we non-breast-feeding moms feel compelled to tell other moms about why we decided to raise our kids a certain way?
«When people say, don’t feel guilty about not breastfeeding, I think: why do you assume I should feel guilty to begin with?» an astute mother commented. «Would I ever think to say ‘please don’t feel guilty for not giving formula?’ You shouldn’t say anything regardless!»
A currently pregnant woman, already a mother to a toddler, echoed the above feelings: «I am very open about not breastfeeding but I think a lot of women feel shame over not being able to do it,» she said. «They will even lie to people around them about doing it and it’s because of the pressure society and other women put on each other. It all starts in the hospital with the lactation consultants harassing you and pressuring women to think that ‘breast is best.’»
Social media doesn’t help assuage feelings of inadequacy. Constantly bombarded by images and videos depicting perfect-looking mothers and their well-behaved, well-groomed and well-fed children, can you blame us for feeling like we’re the only ones who can’t do it? Can you therefore blame us for feeling like we should find validation and justifications for our decisions to make life slightly easier and choose formula over breast milk?
I would be remiss, however, not to mention the devotion and love for breastfeeding that some women sincerely display throughout the first years of their babies’ lives. «The bond between my child and me is the main reason why I loved doing it,» a friend who exclusively breastfed and made it seem easy for a year said to me once I asked her about it. «It was an irreplaceable feeling. Not to sound cliche, but when there’s a successful latch there is really nothing else like it in the world.»
She went on listing other clear benefits of the practice: from convenience («waking up in the middle of the night and not having to pour powder and water in a bottle») to price («depending on the amount your baby drinks and the formula, you can save up to $2,000 a year») and health-related aspects («the baby gets all your antibodies!»).
Of course, when strictly looking at the nutritional value of the two forms of food, breast really is best. The pros of breastfeeding, as mentioned earlier, aren’t dismissable and shouldn’t be dismissed. Just Google “breast milk” and you’ll be inundated with an avalanche of data regarding the topic: the food’s nutrients are better absorbed by babies, who are also at lower risk for asthma, skin problems, lung issues and more if breastfed. The benefits extend to the mother herself, who is less likely to get breast or ovarian cancer and diabetes later in life.
And yet, as my pediatrician never fails to mention to me, formula in America in the year 2021 is pretty damn similar to breast milk. Nutritious and safe, formula contains the vitamins, proteins and fats necessary for proper child development. To put it simply: formula is not bad for your baby – so stop feeling guilty when feeding it to your child.
Alas, every woman is entitled to her own opinion and her own decision. It’s the ability to live freely, calmly and confidently with that decision that will make it the right one. Once your baby moves on to whole milk – and they all do, eventually – you’ll be rewarded with a barrage of even more emotionally-draining worries (will my child have any friends? Will he or she be smart? Will they love me forever?), so why not try to keep things light and sweet for as long as possible?