When you're pregnant you can expect an onslaught of advice. Do this, not that. Eat this, not that. No caffeine. Exercise, but not too excessively. No alcohol or drugs. So many rules...
Here's a little surprise for after you give birth - the advice doesn't stop. It never stops. You will be getting advice until you are either dead or deaf, at which point you won't care because you can't hear the advice anymore.
For some reason, there is a subset of the human race that thinks you are a monster if you don't let your newborn child suction to your breasts for several hours a day. These individuals are not afraid to speak their mind, either. You can identify them by their constant cries that "breast is best!" and their general asshole-ish demeanor.
I have never been interested in breast feeding. I'm not real into anything to do with my nipples. If I didn't have nipples, I'd be fine. However, I was super into the whole "breast milk is free" thing. I mean, free food means that I can spend more money on essentials like hair bows and adorable sleepers with pineapples on the butt. So I made a plan to use the free breast pump I got through my insurance and to exclusively pump. I read over and over how hard it is to pump, but I figured that I would be up anyway and while I was pumping my husband could be feeding the baby. We would supplement with formula if needed because I have no issues with formula, other than it costs money. I also wanted my husband to be involved in the feeding process because I feel like it's a great time to bond with the baby. It's you and her for a few minutes. Gaze into each other's eyes and enjoy the quiet baby time.
Luckily I had amazing nurses in the hospital who didn't push one form of feeding over the other. I let them know that I was planning on feeding expressed breast milk and they gladly brought over RTF bottles of newborn formula and suggested that I start trying to pump while in the hospital to get some colostrum and try to stimulate my milk. Aye, aye, captain! I was actually able to pump quite a bit of colostrum and by the time I got home I was pumping a few ounces of milk every 2-3 hours. This shit was going to be a piece of cake!
Well, in theory this would be a piece of cake. I was pumping every 2-3 hours on schedule as the baby would wake up and want to eat. Except eventually my pumping schedule and the baby's schedule had gotten completely out of whack because you can't control when a newborn sleeps or wants to eat. So within a couple of days I was waking up twice as often at night to feed a hungry baby either formula or expressed milk, and then later to pump my rock hard boobs so that they didn't explode. In the first couple of days I was pumping about 2-3 ounces per boob, per session. After about 4 days I was pumping about 5 ounces per boob, per session. I had no shortage of milk production. The issue was that I hated it. HATED IT. I hated sitting there for 15-20 minutes every couple hours. I hated bagging the milk afterward. I hated cleaning my pump parts in addition to the storage bottles and regular bottles every day. I hated it all. A week into this whole pumping thing I counted my freezer stash. I had accumulated over a week's worth of feedings with 8 meals a day, and the storage bags holding anywhere from 2-4 ounces.
So in a week, I had pumped a week's worth of milk. During that week we probably fed the baby half formula, half breast milk. One day, while pumping, I really asked myself what we were working toward. What was the point? There is literally no study out there that shows that the long term benefits of breast milk outweigh those of formula. I was formula fed. My husband was formula fed. We have never had any real serious health issues. I'm exhausted from pumping and losing that time with the baby because I can't hold her while I have two bottles sticking out from my boobs. Add to that that my boobs leak like water fountains if I don't pump them in time, my nipples are sore, and I'm just cranky overall. A lovely combination when you're recovering from major surgery and trying to navigate the hurricane that is a new baby.
Exactly 8 days into my adventure in pumping breast milk, I threw in the towel. I quit. I was a quitter. And I did not give a tiny rat's ass. I regained my sanity, my baby continued to be fed, and every member of our family who was so excited about the new addition could help feed her. This is a win-win-win situation. This is what works for us.
I'm going to do something crazy here - I'm not going to bash people who choose to breastfeed. I'm not going to bash people who choose to exclusively pump. I'm clearly not going to bash people who choose to formula feed. Shockingly enough, there is no wrong answer when it comes to feeding your baby. There is a wrong way to discuss it, though. There is no "breast is best" or "formula is best"...FED is best. We all have our reasons for doing what we do. You cannot judge someone or admonish them for their choices. I give props to people who breastfeed and pump. You're doing you and you're saving some cash while doing it. It's hard as fuck. It takes a lot of work and it's exhausting. Just remember that we're all just keeping our tiny humans alive the best we can each day and we all deserve a high five.
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