Formula Is Not A Gateway Drug

Ooh! A baby! How old is he?
Six weeks.
Ooh! He's so little! How much does he weigh?
Six pounds, ten ounces.
Oh. How much did he weigh when he was born?
Six pounds, ten ounces.
Oh.

This conversation happened a few weeks ago in the grocery store just after one of many weight checks The Herdsman has had in his short twelve weeks of life. Because yes, The Herdsman took six weeks to get back to his birth weight after dropping down to five pounds, nine ounces two days after we left the hospital. For those who are unaware of a typical baby's first few weeks of life, babies do lose weight after they are born...they just aren't supposed to lose 16% of their body weight. And they typically gain back the few ounces they lose by their two week appointment.

The Herdsman did not get this memo and did not follow protocol. While so many things about The Herdsman have been going wonderfully, this has not been one of them.

To prevent you all from worrying, at The Herdsman's latest appointment he weighed seven pounds, eleven ounces, gaining over a pound in three weeks. He also graduated to a once a month weight check schedule (a vast improvement from the every-other-day schedule he had the first week).

While this post is most likely crossing my oversharing threshold, I'm writing it because I think there is this myth out there that breast feeding is the end-all-be-all of motherhood and the first 12 months of life.

It's what is best.
It's what the baby needs.
It's what you as a mother are put on this earth to do.

That's a whole lotta pressure, people! And for some, like me, it isn't always so easy.

And yes, I get the irony.

I am married to a dairy farmer.

And yes, at one point he did say to me, "I didn't marry you for your milk." (For those who might be appalled at this comment that compares me to a cow, please know I was laughing at this point.)

My doctor very diplomatically said to me six weeks ago that she still finds it baffling/amazing/crazy that some women struggle with this part of motherhood and other women could feed triplets. She also looked me straight in the eye and told me that formula is not a bad thing.

Translation: Formula Is Not A Gateway Drug.

Because yes, this was where my head had been for six weeks. I had a container of formula hidden out of sight in my cupboard; The Farmer insisted I purchase it around Day Six. Admittedly, I was ashamed it was in my house. It wasn't even open, but I knew it was there. And it was poison, right? It was the gateway for all things unnatural. It meant I was failing.

Well, in some regards that last sentence is true. I was failing on this one front. But it took me six weeks to be okay with the fact that this failure wasn't commentary on any other part of my life. It just was fact...I needed to do something else because this wasn't working.

Oh, I'd tried everything...a syringe, supplemental bottles of pumped milk, long feedings, short back-to-back feedings, I've increased my protein and liquid intakes, I've added dietary supplements...and that green container of formula was the last resort.

The first day I only allowed The Farmer to mix a "halfies" bottle before bedtime - my "real" milk mixed with the "fake" stuff.

The Herdsman slept six hours that first night.

And yes, while that fact was a celebration, there was also guilt in the result...

He was hungry.
I should have done this weeks ago.

In those first few days - OK, weeks, including at one point today - I've had many moments of guilt and shame. When people have asked how things were going, I'd sheepishly admit that I'd slipped The Herdsman a bit of formula in with his breastmilk. The thoughts running through my head were/are still revolving around the idea that by supplementing this into his diet I've introduced him to some sort of gateway drug, and next thing I know he'll be mainlining red dye #5, high fructose corn syrup, and MSG.

Amazingly, two women - both in the women's health field - immediately exclaimed, "Oh! Me too! It was a savior!"

Why don't the baby books tell you this?!?!?! Instead what you take away from the 1,782 articles and books you read is that formula is a gateway drug and your six-week old will be forever impacted by the dried milk product you laced his bottle and your precious breastmilk with.

So here we are...twelve weeks old today...six weeks after I admitted "failure"...and The Herdsman has kinda chubby cheeks. His skin is not quite falling off his thighs. I almost can't see his rib cage. And just this morning I retired the first newborn outfit he's grown out of.

He is thriving.

So to all the mothers out there that have read one too many articles...formula is not a gateway drug. You may be surprised by how many of us have that can hiding in our cupboards.

I'm going to put mine on the counter. Without guilt.