What I Didn’t Need to Hear About Breastfeeding (And Why I Love Fake Milk)
By: Megan Zehnder
Tags: Exclusive Pumping, Formula, Breastfeeding, Parenting

Sweet, tender…

Easy, convenient….

Excruciating, bloody….

Those were some of the breastfeeding descriptors I heard before giving birth.

Even though the messages were a little confusing, I still planned to nurse my baby. I anticipated some initial pain but ultimately a rewarding and positive experience.

My early concerns were assuaged by a breastfeeding class I took, where the lactation consultant shared tricks to make nursing “pain-free.” The tricks: Hold mom’s boob like a sandwich. Hold baby’s nose to mom’s nipple and wait for baby’s mouth to open wide. If the cradle hold doesn’t work, try the football hold.

We practiced the tricks by shoving a doll up to a balloon boob, and everything worked out fine.

But when baby Devon was born 10 weeks later, nursing him turned out to be quite different than putting a doll to a balloon.

When I put his nose to my nipple, he cried.

I tried again a few hours later, and he fell asleep.

After about 30 hours or so of non-latching, I conceded to feed Dev some supplemental donor milk and turned my efforts to pumping instead.

When I took him home the next day, I fed him everything I was pumping, plus some donor milk.

To avoid the dreaded “nipple confusion,” we fed him via a syringe and our finger. This process was fine, at first. (Even tedious tasks, like filling a syringe over and over at 3 a.m., are pretty wonderful when you get to look at your new baby.)

But the feeding chart kept insisting on larger amounts. Feedings took longer. And the “finger feeding” method was only one third of the full food-production process. In between feedings, I pumped. In between pumps, I tried to get him to latch. And somewhere in between those events, I tried to do as much skin-to-skin contact as possible to stimulate milk production.

I was exhausted. And I was still healing from childbirth, so sitting was incredibly painful.

I constantly wondered what I was doing wrong, and what I needed to do differently. But none of the many trials conducted led to the desired outcome.

The more I insisted with nursing, the more he screamed.

My Instagram and Facebook feeds were filled with ads showing moms in cute nursing outfits effortlessly nursing their baby while snuggling another older child, while my experience felt nothing near that.

I slowly succumbed to the fact that if I wanted to feed Dev with my own milk, my only option was to keep pumping — and to pump a lot. Unfortunately, my pumping output fell way short of the amounts dictated by the feeding charts.

It was frustrating and exhausting to watch him continually reject my boobs. But by far the hardest part was not being able to make enough milk for him.

The lactation consultant told me to just keep pumping, and add in some intense sessions, known as “power pumps.”

During my months of pumping, my entire day was centered around ensuring I had clean parts and access to a pump. I had to leave public events early. I had to wake up several times each night to pump. If Devon was crying during a session, I couldn’t easily get to him.

I pumped in cars, restaurants, dirty bathrooms, a train station and even a boat.

And I tried all the recommended supplements under the sun.

But no matter how many times I pumped — and how much blessed thistle, fenugreek, oatmeal, brewer’s yeast, water and flax seed I put in my body — I still couldn’t seem to make enough.

Eventually I became so sick of spending half my exhausted life hooked up to a machine — while Dev, meanwhile, slept beautifully.

I decided to wean and rely exclusively on formula.

My breastfeeding chapter officially ended when Dev was 7-months-old, after a grand total of 586 hours and 37 minutes of pumping.

All in all, I would rate the whole breastfeeding experience as not great. I never knew whether I was making the right decision or not. I felt guilty for spending more time with the pump than cuddling Dev. I felt sad every time I had to pay $30 for a tin of formula that told me “breast milk is best” on the packaging. And I felt disappointed after trying the ineffective lactation cookies, mother’s milk supplements, and BODYARMOR drinks.

I also felt stupid for caring so much for something that logically I knew wasn’t a big deal in the scheme of things. After all, I was lucky to have a healthy and growing boy.

But breastfeeding is an emotionally charged experience. That’s why people’s feelings about it span from “sweet and tender” to “miserable and excruciating.”

I understand how it can be a positive experience. I adore feeding and cooking for people — it’s one of the main ways I show my love. And choosing to give Dev formula over breast milk felt like I was giving him an inferior, fake meal.

But I eventually learned to love that fake milk.

Sure, breast milk is great. I won’t discount any of the benefits.

But formula is also amazing. It provided my kid with all the nutrients he needed to grow and thrive. It allowed me to sleep 9 whole hours in a row when I had a 7-month-old. It gave me the freedom to stay out in public for longer than three hours with my new family. It helped me enjoy feeding my son again.

And I realized that formula removes many barriers to feeding — enabling dads, adoptive parents and those with double mastectomies to feed their newborns.

Yes, breast milk has benefits. But breast milk is not free. It takes time, support, resources and money. When people casually say, “breast milk is free,” they undermine the time demands it puts on women, not to mention the cost of many products that are often needed to assist in milk production.

Women everywhere in the world who want to breastfeed should have all the support and resources they need to make that relationship happen. And I commend all the groups of people working to widen access to those resources. Without paid leave, pumping accommodations, and supportive family, breastfeeding is incredibly hard — and impossible for some parents.

But we should also acknowledge that breastfeeding is not always best for every parent and baby.

When society adds guilt to the decision to use formula, it’s painful.

During my breastfeeding journey, I did not need to see “breast milk is best” when I opened the tin of formula. I did not need to hear, “breast milk is free” from men who had no idea what it actually required. I did not need to hear, “breastfed babies have a higher IQ” (which is not entirely true).

I believe these messages were shared with good intentions, but they also added to my feelings of inadequacy. During the vulnerable postpartum weeks, I did not want to hear how convenient and free breastmilk is — and perhaps other parents who can’t or choose not to breastfeed don’t want to hear that either.

Would I do anything differently next time? Sure. As hard as breastfeeding was, I plan to try it again if I have another kid. I’ll skip the expensive supplements, but I will pump a lot right from the start and worry less about nipple confusion from pacifiers and bottles.

If baby two latches, I’ll be happy (and I’m sure I’ll discover a bunch of new challenges!). But if the next baby prefers bottles, or if I struggle again with supply, I will be so grateful for formula.

Ultimately, a baby’s first few months are so special, and it’s not worth worrying about ounces of breastmilk that cannot be produced. Personally, I will keep reminding myself that it’s OK to love fake milk.