Please help. I have six packs of Boots Breast Pads taking up
room in Roshan’s nursery and I don’t have a clue what to do with them.
And that’s because despite best intentions (as pregnancy
bulk buying of above breast pads should indicate) and a lot of effort, Roshan
is a formula baby. I am a formula mum.
I started a version of this post with a guilt-laden, confessional
tone. And then I scrapped it. Because, you know what, there’s far too much
guilt and judgement of formula mothers as it is. It’s suffocating. And last
week, at the health visitor clinic, I mentally turned a corner. The HV asked me
how Roshan’s feeding was going and I apologetically shrugged my shoulders and
said “well he’s a formula baby now”. The HV responded “oh that’s fine! But how
is he doing on it?” – and I realised that she wasn’t interested so much in what
he was feeding, but the quantity and quality of his feeds. I realised that I
was loading the guilt onto myself, projecting the judgement of others onto
myself when sometimes there was none (though many times no such projection is needed).
And then I decided – no longer. I’m not apologising for bottle feeding anymore,
to others, or to myself.
For every mother I know that has sailed through exclusive
breastfeeding (a term I really hate with a passion, designed to make us “lesser”
mothers feel like we’re being refused admittance to some elite club we’re too
rubbish to be part of) I know of at least four who’ve struggled, mixed-fed or
formula fed. There’s plenty of support for mothers to facilitate breastfeeding
in the form of groups, lactation consultants, community breastfeeding
assistants and so on. But that support network is ripped away when you decide
to formula feed – and there’s nothing in its place.
So I wanted to write a post that’s, as controversial as it
might seem, positive about formula feeding. I want to write down the things I’ve
learnt, two and a half months on, mostly through trial and error, for other
women in my situation – things I wish I’d been told in the many, many classes
and workshops I attended during my pregnancy but which were never spoken of for
fear of inciting women to formula feed.
Incitement to formula feed. The present climate in the UK
regarding breastfeeding is such that any lone voice that comes out in support
of formula does indeed seem like a pariah. But really, is formula such a big,
so very moral, deal? As Anne Maxted points out in what I found to be a saviour of an article, in the developed world, not really. So
why the fuss? In my opinion, the hysteria around breast/formula is just an
another way for women to judge one another, to load even more pressure on each
other, to create another impossible to achieve goal of perfection for us all to
strive towards and endlessly beat ourselves up about.
Don’t get me wrong – I think breastfeeding is fantastic. I
was deeply committed to it throughout my pregnancy – I set up cosy nursing
places, bulk bought those wretched breast pads, and was generally so excited at
the prospect of nurturing and nourishing my child.
Two and a half months on, on formula 100%, I am doing that
still – but just not in the way I anticipated, visualised, dreamed of. But
Roshan’s thriving now, crossing centiles, getting stronger, longer and louder
and we are both so, so happy.
It wasn’t always this way. When I say I tried to breast
feed, I don’t think I could have done anything more to try to establish it for
Roshan. To the extent that I almost put his health at risk. And it still didn’t
work out. And what they don’t tell you in those pregnancy breastfeeding
workshops is that sometimes that just happens.
I’ve written about my frankly terrifying birth experience. After
all of 5 minutes of “skin to skin” (continually interrupted by paramedics
trying to keep Roshan alert), I ended up being apart from Roshan for over nine
hours due to my surgery. So, it wasn’t surprising that it took some time for my
milk to come in and when it did, that it came in tiny, tiny amounts. But I
persevered and I mastered latching Roshan within a couple of days. But he
couldn’t get much from me, and as I’ve found out, he’s not the most patient of
babies even when he’s happy. He began to get so very hungry he’d work himself into
a complete state, so much so that he couldn’t feed, flapping his little arms,
delatching himself in complete fury. I would sit with him latched for an hour
at a time, as he would fall asleep after five minutes of drinking. One night, I
recorded my feeding and I had had him latched for a total of five hours
overnight. But though he latched, he would fall asleep and stop suckling almost
immediately, and then he’d wake up and delatch in hungry fury. It was a
terrible, emotionally devastating cycle. He ended up losing 1/6th of
his birth weight, going from 6lbs to 5lbs. He looked like a little prune, drawn
and shrivelled, and he couldn’t sleep for more than half an hour at a time
because of his gnawing hunger.
In retrospect, I can’t quite believe I held on with the
breastfeeding for as long as I did. He did have the odd decent drink, and when
I wasn’t around in the intensive care unit, he was given formula with a cup or
syringe. But he still wasn’t putting on weight, and when we were discharged I
was left with a starving, dehydrated, sleepless baby who couldn’t feed and
couldn’t settle. Add my pain from my tear into that mix, and the first two
weeks were the hardest of my life.
My health visitor ended up basically ordering me to
mix-feed. I also started to express, to help my frustrated, cross little baby
consume the “good stuff” he refused to take by breast. But as Roshan was a demanding
baby during this time, this meant that when I wasn’t feeding/settling I was
expressing and I had simply no time to do anything else. After five weeks I
made the decision to stop mixed feeding and switch Roshan to EXCLUSIVE formula
feeding. Given that by this stage he didn’t like the taste of breast milk and
wouldn’t take from the breast at all (too much hard work!) he didn’t complain
at all about this.
But it wasn’t plain sailing – even on bottles, he’d
struggle, wriggle and take in lots of air so he was full of wind and in lots of
pain from it. It took a switch to Hipp Organic (I feel like such a Hampstead
yummy mummy feeding my child an organic formula!) and anti-colic bottles for me
to get the happy, smiley and THRIVING little baby I have now. But looking at
him now, all chubby cheeks, bright eyes and flapping, strong limbs, I know I
made the right decision and we’re all brilliantly happy. So I’m not going to
apologise anymore for what was right for Roshan and right for me.
Things I’ve learnt – you can master all the techniques of
breastfeeding, but if you don’t have an easy/simple birth experience and/or your
baby doesn’t have the right temperament, then it might not work out. Don’t
underestimate the power of switching formula – I was sceptical, having read
that all formulas now are pretty much the same, but I’ve seen a dramatic change
in Roshan’s ability to digest his food. We have no back arching, no pained
crying, no hours of coaxing burps out of him anymore. Infacol is a useful thing
if your child is colicky. So are wide necked bottles – but for me, Tommee
Tippee ones ended up drenching Roshan because of leaks (googling I found this
to be a common issue) so we’re using Avent Natural. Teats also make a huge
difference – some bottles come with teats for older babies, but don’t make it
clear on the box that this is so. If your baby is spluttering out milk – check if
the teat’s right. Formula dispensers are ace if you have a crazily impatient
child like I do (Roshan would work himself into a frenzy before I’d measure
eight scoops into a bottle if I dared to do that when he’s hungry). Burping is
important. Some babies don’t like bibs – muslins are softer and more easily
tucked into chubby neck rolls (neck rolls! We have neck rolls!)
The benefits of formula? I know how much food Roshan takes,
when, which reassures me given his weight struggles. He feeds regularly, and in
consistent quantities, so we’re getting close to having a schedule established.
He stays over at his grandparents’, giving me time to sleep and time to do
other things (gosh, that makes me sound less than devoted, doesn’t it? But it’s
important too, I think, for Roshan to have a happy, rested, and fulfilled
mother). I feel we – me, Bartimaeus, grandparents, uncles and aunts – co-parent
Roshu by all of us being able to feed him. And whilst expressing worked, it
(literally) sucked so much time from my day, I couldn’t even play with Roshan
between pumping, feeding, settling him and housework. He’s developing
brilliantly now I can actually give him proper attention.
So here we are. Happy
Roshan, happy me. On formula. Exclusively.
Any tips on how to use up those breast pads would be more than welcome.
