When I was pregnant with my first daughter at just 17, my only choice was to use formula. It seemed logical; I was a single teen mom finishing high school and working as an underwhelming waitress. To my surprise, no one seemed to question my decision. Maybe it was due to the sympathetic attitude they had towards my situation. “As long as the baby is fed, what more can we expect from her?” I didn’t realize at the time that I had been let off the hook rather easily.
Fast forward ten years: I am now married and expecting again, with a stable career that allows me to work from home. We’re not struggling anymore, and you could say I’m in an ideal situation. (Don’t roll your eyes; it took a lot of effort to get here.) Yet, despite our financial stability, following the “traditional” path, and having more life experience, I have never felt more judged for one decision: I have opted to exclusively pump and possibly use formula for my newborn.
When I decided to try pumping, I felt triumphant, like Rocky at the top of the Philadelphia Museum steps, celebrating my selfless choice to provide my baby with the praised breastmilk. (For the record, I fully support formula feeding; a fed baby is a happy baby.) When asked if I would breastfeed, I confidently replied, “Yes, that’s the plan, but I’ll be exclusively pumping.” To my dismay, the response was often a disappointed look or a change in tone, “Oh, well okay, but you know…” followed by unsolicited advice.
Wasn’t I still giving my child the valuable breastmilk everyone raves about? I immediately felt the need to justify my choice — a choice I made confidently, believing it was best for both me and my baby. Yet, I found it difficult to defend myself without exposing my vulnerabilities, which only intensified their judgments. So, I crafted a few secondary reasons for my decision: my husband could help more if the baby was bottle-fed, it suited our family better, and it allowed me to monitor her intake more effectively.
Despite my attempts to explain my reasoning, the responses often lacked understanding. “It’s a bonding experience if you breastfeed. Don’t you want that? It’s crucial.” Sure, Karen, because I’d rather not bond with the baby I carried for nine months. My body has endured so much in that time, and I’m not convinced that breastfeeding is the only path to maternal bonding. I had a strong bond with my first daughter, who thrived on her bottle.
Another common piece of advice was, “You should just try it; you might regret it if you don’t.” I call nonsense on that. I am a survivor of sexual abuse and have always struggled with certain types of touch or closeness. This is unfortunately common among survivors. A Norwegian study indicates that women with a history of abuse are more likely to avoid breastfeeding or stop before four months. The reasons can vary: feelings of insecurity, mental or emotional discomfort with breastfeeding, PTSD, etc. Regardless, it is essential to remember: it’s your body, your baby, your choice!
“But it’s the most natural thing in the world.” A response that even my well-meaning husband offered. The idea of something so “natural” made my skin crawl. What is truly unnatural is the experience of reliving past trauma while trying to nourish my child. The guilt alone can be paralyzing. I have struggled for years with any contact near my chest, even during a brief, guilt-driven attempt to breastfeed my firstborn in the hospital, thanks to a pushy nurse.
Ten years later, I am still battling the chains of my past, grappling with profound mental barriers. I cringe at the thought of using a pump or allowing my newborn to latch on, only to pull her back. Yet, I am trying. I am trying to not let my history rob me of this opportunity for my child. I am trying to sift through the unsolicited advice and be the best mother I can while tackling my own demons.
“Just push through it; it’s temporary, but the benefits are lasting.” While some women can power through the discomfort, others shouldn’t feel penalized for their choices. A comfortable and confident mother is invaluable. You must do what feels right for your emotional and mental well-being, or it will only create stress for both you and your baby. The naysayers won’t be there at 3 am while you’re a human milk machine, wrestling with your past.
I’m still uncertain if pumping will work out for me, but I can assure you that my child will not go hungry or suffer for a lack of breastmilk. Sure, my first daughter is a bit quirky—she talks to inanimate objects and pretends to be a man-eating eagle in a cape—but I highly doubt her formula or lack of breastfeeding is to blame.
For more insights, you can check this other blog post on home insemination. If you’re looking for authoritative sources, Make a Mom has excellent information on this subject, and Facts About Fertility is a great resource for pregnancy and home insemination.
Search Queries:
- Why can’t I breastfeed after trauma?
- Alternatives to breastfeeding for trauma survivors.
- Emotional impact of breastfeeding for abuse survivors.
- Pumping vs. breastfeeding: personal experiences.
- Formula feeding and child bonding.
In summary, my past trauma has shaped my choices surrounding breastfeeding, leading me to pump and potentially use formula instead. I strive to navigate this journey while understanding that my comfort and mental well-being are paramount in raising my child.
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