‘Breast is best’. This phrase is such a heart breaking one for me, I spent 6 weeks living and effectively dying by this ‘mantra’. At 4:30am the midwife said to me ‘reach down and grab your baby’, I reached down and pulled her chubby, soggy little body up on to my chest and by 5am she was breast feeding. I remember thinking as she ‘fed’ – ‘good grief this is painful, I can’t wait for this to feed to be over’ and thinking to myself ‘don’t worry petal, it will get better’.

The 3 days we spent in the hospital were filled with attempts to feed on my own followed by a purple, screaming new born VERY closely followed by a midwife opening our room door to see what was happening. I tried EVERYTHING. I leaned forward, leaned back, tried the football hold, the cross cradle, traditional hold, leaving over, leaning over like a dairy cow, laying back, a pillow, no pillow, talking, no talking and in the end was ready to hire a wet nurse because surely my child would suffer if she wasn’t breast fed because you know no matter the struggle ‘breast is best’. Midwives came every second day and watched her feed each feed more perfect than the one before, they would leave and full of hope/confidence I would put Ellie to bed eagerly awaiting the next ‘solo feed’.

By the time Ellie May was 2 weeks old I felt some severe guilt and depression setting in, why couldn’t I feed my child? Why were my nipples bleeding, bruised and swollen? Women were made to raise children weren’t they? I was made for this... or was I?? At 3 weeks old I was broken, my husband came into the bedroom to find Ellie May screaming at me and I was inconsolable, instantly he went downstairs and fetched her a bottle of expressed milk. Ellie took the bottle seemingly without issue, she was slightly gassy but nothing we couldn’t handle and with each feed I expressed.... I was going to exclusively pump I was sure of it. As each day passed I felt worse, being constantly tethered to a pump or a screaming baby was taking its toll. I didn’t want to leave the house to see anyone or do anything, Ellie would surely need feeding and OF COURSE people would judge me as they watched her scream while I tried to cram by ‘gravel rash’ nipple into her tiny rose bud mouth.

My sister in law began to worry, my mum looked at me with ‘the mum look’ of deep love and sympathy and I was beginning to crack under the pressure. At the end of November I went to my work Christmas party, we had spent hours that morning battling to get Ellie may to feed. She screamed with each feed, fell asleep then screamed some more. When we got to the party the Doctor took one look at me and said ‘you’re not happy are you’. I tried desperately not to make eye contact and not to cry, I was struggling, I was unhappy but I HAD to breastfeed, Society tells you so. He spoke to me much like a father would that day and I had a sudden and well deserved change of heart. As a mum who has breast fed, a mum who has pumped, a mum who has bottle fed breast milk and a mum who has mixed fed then formula fed I’d like to say openly and unreservedly, BREAST IS NOT BEST, FED IS BEST. I spent 6 weeks of my newborn baby girl’s life crying, fighting with her at every feed, listening to her scream, spending hours at parties alone in her bedroom trying to settle her, hours a day feeding then pumping and even longer wondering why I was such a failure as a mum. The first bottle we gave her was met with tears; I sat on the opposite side of the room and cried as I watched her finally feed happily as she squeezed her dad’s finger. I’d seen lactation nurses, Doctors, midwives, read books, read blogs, researched and done all I could despite how sad it was making me because I was told ‘breast was best’.

Ellie May is now a beautiful, healthy, advanced, inquisitive, wondrous 12 week old and she will get all she wants in life. She will not be disadvantaged, disadvantaged in school, shorter, fatter, and unhealthier or any worse off because she has been formula fed. In fact she will be a happier more content baby because her mum, her best friend, her protector isn’t sad. She isn’t depressed. She isn’t stressed. Instead, she is enjoying her baby. She is sharing the responsibility of feeds. She is a happy mum. Don’t ever stress yourself with the notion that ‘breast is best’. Breast is best IF YOU CAN, if you can’t, your baby will still survive, still thrive and still love you like no other.

I have a very honest blog if any of you would like to read it :-)