Why I'm Lucky

I am extremely blessed. I have a wonderful husband, two gorgeous, healthy children, an adorable house, a sweet pug and a job I love. I am saved by grace and a child of God.

But that's not why I say I'm lucky. I'm lucky because I didn't have to choose to bottle feed. Most of the women reading this blog will have chosen to bottle feed through one path or another. I didn't breastfeed because I couldn't breastfeed. And when I get those looks--you know the ones I am talking about--I can say, "I had a breast surgery and I cannot breastfeed," and happily go on feeding my baby her bottle. Both my doctor and my mother support my bottle feeding--in fact, they both thought I was crazy even to try to breastfeed my son. Not every girl here has is so lucky.

I by no means want to bash breastfeeding or women who breastfeed--but there are times that I think if I hear "breast milk is best" one more time I will scream. I read one article in a parenting magazine that suggested putting a warning label on formula--like they have on cigarettes and alcohol.

I don't want to widen the gap between the breastfeeders and the bottle feeders, but I do want to give bottle feeders a chance to have their voices unashamedly heard. It's a tough world out there for a bottle feeder. I've gotten nasty looks as I prepared my baby's formula in public. I've had conversions with tons of women who I know pity me and my inability to breastfeed. I've had to endure countless magazine article, latation consultants, well-meaning friends, and nosy strangers telling me about the wonders of breastfeeding. And I've heard "breast milk is best, but...." more times than I care to count. I don't know if breast milk is best or not because I haven't done the research--and I have $10 that says most of the people saying it to you haven't done it either.

What I want to do here is remove the "but" and the guilt. I bottle feed. Period. Not "I wanted to breastfeed but I had surgery." Not "I wanted to breastfeed but I adopted." Not "I wanted to breastfeed but I had a premie." Not "I wanted to breastffeed but I got an infection." No buts, no guilt.

I bottle feed. Period.

This is where we will vent. When someone says something to you that hurts your feelings, makes you feel guilty or just really cheeses you off, tell us about it. Please don't use any profanity or actual names--I'll take those comments off. Just refer to all women as "Betty."

There are countless books, websites and support groups for breastfeeders--it's time we had some support, too!

Welcome to Bottle Feeding!

I'm very excited to start this blog! Bottle feeding is something that I feel very passionately about and I want to offer new moms ( & seasoned moms!) as much help and advice as I can--and if nothing else, provide you with a place to vent!!

I'll start with a little bit of my story to explain why bottles & bottle feeding became such a huge part of my life. My journey to bottles actually started when I was in the fourth grade and I "blossomed" into a young lady overnight. By eighth grade I had a bigger chest than all my teachers and by senior year I had to buy a two-piece prom dress to accommodate my enormous chest and tiny hips (where did those go, by the way??).

As I entered college I realized that something had to be done. Not only did I look huge, I felt huge. My chest had begun to limit my ability to do activities such as run or jog--and going down stairs was not pretty. I was extremely embarrassed by my appearance and finding modest clothes was next to impossible. I had back aches and shoulder issues and to this day I have permanent dips in my shoulders from wearing a bra almost 24/7. It was time to do something.

My wonderful, wonderful parents agreed to let me meet with Dr. Linderman, a plastic surgeon. After discussing with him my medical and emotional issues associated with my breasts, we decided that a breast reduction surgery would be the best answer to my problems & prayers. On September 20, 2002 I went into surgery and came out 5 full pounds lighter. Dr. Linderman removed approximately 2.5 pounds of tissue from each breast. My bra size went from an F to a D (yes, I still have plenty left!!).

September 20, 2002 changed my life. It was easier to dress in modest clothing. Running down stairs didn't hurt anymore. Bathing suits fit. Shopping for a wedding dress didn't bring me to tears. But that day took something from me that I could never get back--my ability to breast feed. And I don't regret it--not one, single bit.

When I was pregnant with my son I researched breast feeding after breast reduction--and there's a really great website http://www.bfar.org that offers a lot of help and advice. From the best that I could tell, if you really focused and did nothing else but try to breastfeed, after about 4 months, it might work. Maybe. The women I read about had babies who weren't growing and who cried out in hunger all of the time. I couldn't do that to myself, and I certainly couldn't do it to my beautiful baby boy.

I tried breastfeeding for 2 weeks and never got any milk. It was incredibly painful because my milk came in, but due to the removal and replacement of my nipples, it could not come out. It was a very stressful time for both me and my son. Bottles and formula became a permanent fixture in our home. I made a lot of mistakes the first time around, but more on that next time.