What happens when it doesn't happen?
Like fertility, breastfeeding is one of those things you just assume you'll be able to do when the time comes. As a girl, all your life, you're told that you will have a baby, and depending on who raised you, you were probably told at some point that you will breastfeed that baby. So, what happens when it doesn't all pan out that way? What happens when you have trouble conceiving that baby? What happens when you can't breastfeed that baby you finally do conceive? You feel broken. You can't do something that comes so naturally to so many women.
You spend from the time you start having sex until the point up until you decide to have a baby terrified that you'll get pregnant. Then your life changes. Either you decide that it's time to get pregnant (or you get pregnant and decide to keep the baby). For 9 months, you make all these plans for your new little one- from decorating the nursery to what kind of diapers to use. You buy everything you can in the appropriate color. You're going to do this and that with junior and s/he will be the perfect specimen of what every baby should be. S/he will be the perfect accessory: like the chocolate brown leather Gucci purse with the bamboo handle (and your baby will feel just as buttery soft as a chocolate brown leather Gucci purse with the bamboo handle). Your baby will make the Gerber baby look like a cross between a troll and Lyle Lovett (right after he gets out of bed in the mornings).
The big day arrives and your baby is here. Ten fingers, ten toes, your eyes, and their father's chin. You're in love. The nurse in the delivery room encourages you to breastfeed the baby, so you bring baby to boobie and let him/her suckle. The perfect picture of Madonna and baby. Since babies don't need much, if any, food to survive in the first few days, no matter how much milk you are or aren't producing, it will be enough. You go home with you baby and you find out in a few weeks that through no fault of your own, no, it isn't enough.
I assume that when you make the decision to formula feed from the beginning, that you're comfortable with that decision. You are prepared to deal with the boob nazis and the old women who look down their noses at you in the supermarket. Every time I go to the store to buy my cans of Enfamil, I wish I had a shirt that said "It's not my fault!". I don't feel like sharing my entire medical history with these women who feel compelled to come up and tell me that breast is best, so what do I say? When I tell them that I can't, they roll their eyes and walk away. I'm left there feeling guilty for something I have no control over.
Why can't we support one another no matter what the decision? We're all playing for the same team: it's not some stranger's place to tell me I'm wrong. Is breastfeeding best? Sure. So is never drinking coffee, growing your own vegetables, and never giving into that Ben and Jerry's craving. If you can do all that, you're a better woman than me. I tip my hat to you.
You spend from the time you start having sex until the point up until you decide to have a baby terrified that you'll get pregnant. Then your life changes. Either you decide that it's time to get pregnant (or you get pregnant and decide to keep the baby). For 9 months, you make all these plans for your new little one- from decorating the nursery to what kind of diapers to use. You buy everything you can in the appropriate color. You're going to do this and that with junior and s/he will be the perfect specimen of what every baby should be. S/he will be the perfect accessory: like the chocolate brown leather Gucci purse with the bamboo handle (and your baby will feel just as buttery soft as a chocolate brown leather Gucci purse with the bamboo handle). Your baby will make the Gerber baby look like a cross between a troll and Lyle Lovett (right after he gets out of bed in the mornings).
The big day arrives and your baby is here. Ten fingers, ten toes, your eyes, and their father's chin. You're in love. The nurse in the delivery room encourages you to breastfeed the baby, so you bring baby to boobie and let him/her suckle. The perfect picture of Madonna and baby. Since babies don't need much, if any, food to survive in the first few days, no matter how much milk you are or aren't producing, it will be enough. You go home with you baby and you find out in a few weeks that through no fault of your own, no, it isn't enough.
I assume that when you make the decision to formula feed from the beginning, that you're comfortable with that decision. You are prepared to deal with the boob nazis and the old women who look down their noses at you in the supermarket. Every time I go to the store to buy my cans of Enfamil, I wish I had a shirt that said "It's not my fault!". I don't feel like sharing my entire medical history with these women who feel compelled to come up and tell me that breast is best, so what do I say? When I tell them that I can't, they roll their eyes and walk away. I'm left there feeling guilty for something I have no control over.
Why can't we support one another no matter what the decision? We're all playing for the same team: it's not some stranger's place to tell me I'm wrong. Is breastfeeding best? Sure. So is never drinking coffee, growing your own vegetables, and never giving into that Ben and Jerry's craving. If you can do all that, you're a better woman than me. I tip my hat to you.