I’m more important than my child…

I went back and forth about what exactly my first post should be. I have about 6 different drafts of topics that I was convinced were PERFECT for my opening post. Somehow this one just felt right.

The title might turn you off a little bit, but trust me, read all the way through until the end and you’ll understand WHY I went with that one.

Here’s a fact that I think nobody will deny: your child wouldn’t be here if you weren’t here. And this fact goes for every type of parent. Foster, adoptive, biological, step, etc. Think about it: your child relies SOLELY on you to be your absolute best at all times. Ergo, if you’re falling, so is your child.

This. This is why I didn’t breastfeed.

You guys, I get asked this question so often that if I had a dollar for every time it happened I could probably pay my mortgage for a month. No joke. And I’ve never been one to tiptoe around why I chose not too. I’ve been honest and shared what I thought was appropriate and kept to myself what I felt wasn’t. (Not because I was ashamed, but because I didn’t want it to come out as I was shaming moms who breastfed, even though that’s completely what they were doing to me).

I’m well aware that breastfeeding is a beautiful thing. It is so incredible that our bodies can not only grow a human, but also supply it with nourishment to help it grow. Really. Breastfeeding moms deserve a freaking medal. I’ve heard the horror stories. The bleeding, the chaffing, the exhaustion, the hormones, the LACK-tation (see what I did there?). I could go on and on. It’s also no mystery that breastfeeding can have negative side effects. Not only ones that can effect your baby (undernourishment/lack of production/allergy), but more importantly (yes, I know, how DARE I consider myself MORE important than my child!) it CAN (bitches, I said CAN so re-read that before you sick yourself on me kaythanksbye) also have a negative side effect on the mommas. Postpartum Depression is one side effect.

Let me back track a bit. I was grateful enough to have an OB/GYN who has been delivering babies for 37 years. (He’s no longer taking patients, so I’m not going to give his information). From my first visit with him at 12 weeks pregnant (yeah I was a little late in the game finding out I was pregnant LOL) he was insanely good at making sure I understood that I have two jobs once the baby gets here: to keep myself alive, so I can keep the baby alive. Everything else I was able to accomplish was a plus. He said however I chose to interpret that was up to me. And when I was 20 weeks along and found out my child had a 40% survival rate, he prepped me FOR EVERYTHING. Most importantly, the chances of having PPD. It’s not easy to be a mom. But it’s a hell of a lot harder to be a mom with a high risk pregnancy, especially when the condition you have only effects 1 in every 5,000 pregnancies, and currently there is no cure or understanding of how or why it happens. So I could understand why he was concerned that PPD might be something I may suffer from in the future. Which, I haven’t, and I know I won’t because FOR ME (see, there I go again sharing a personal experience instead of generalizing *insert eye roll here*), it’s a mind over matter thing. And I completely understand that for some people it is a real problem, and I HOPE my friends know that I will always be here for an ear, hug or a glass of wine with ZERO judgement. It’s just not something I choose to ever let into my life. But that’s another post, one of which I have saved in my drafts right this very minute. So anyone that has had a NICU baby (we were fortunate enough to not have one, but we were still prepped for the possibility), you know that they stress A LOT about the fact that you might not be able to breastfeed, or even give your baby pumped milk, depending on their vitals.

But I knew I didn’t want to take any chances with PPD– so that was strike one. Strike two was the information on partners relationships with breastfed babies. When my husband and I were doing our research, one of the things that we read was that children who are breastfed can sometimes have a harder time bonding with the non-feeding parent for the first year of life. Well I don’t know if you guys know my husband, but if you do, you’d know that that just wasn’t an option. My husband was MADE to be a daddy. He’s better at being a parent than I am! He is selfless, and nurturing and has the kindest heart out of anyone on this planet. He is not afraid of anything, not even to be a daddy. He has changed diapers, and gotten up in the middle of the night, and taken baths and read to and YES even FED her, since day one. He wanted to be 100% involved and for us to be able to do that, it meant bottle feeding.


“But aren’t you worried about not having a “special” bond with your child?” Listen, my child fucking knows I grew her. She just knows it. I can tell my the way she smiles whenever my husband and I feed her. Or how she snuggles his beard right after she’s done eating, or HAS TO be holding my finger while I burp her. Not to mention how she flails her arms and legs with excitement when she sees that bright pink bottle come towards her face. A connection is a connection. You can’t deny that.

And now that I’ve gone through all the “non-selfish” reasons for not breast feeding, I’ll give all of you that don’t have a stick up your asses my “selfish” reasons.

MY TITS. PRAISE JESUS AND MY MOMMA FOR MY TITS. I love them, I use them, I value them. And I did not want to see those babies take the back seat for anything. Here’s another personal fact, I absolutely LOVE how sexy and confident I feel at all times. It doesn’t matter if I have no makeup on and a blotchy spray tan or a full face and I’m a fucking bronzed goddess. I. KNOW. I’M. BOMB. And selfishly I just didn’t want to jeopardize that.

And then if you don’t know that I’m the queen of a good time then don’t ever read my blog again LOL. I love my alcohol. In fact, my husband and I finished two bottles of wine the second we got home from the hospital. I didn’t want pumping and dumping to cramp my style.

So anyways, all joking aside, I hope I was able to shed some light on why us non-bf moms do it. We don’t do it because we “don’t love” our children. We do it because we love them. We know that we will be able to be better moms to them, if we feel dynamite ourselves. It makes us feel good just like having your child eat from your breast makes you feel good. Isn’t that great that we can BOTH be stellar mommas and do things 100% different? So next time you see or hear a momma talking about why she’s formula feeding, remember that we want the same respect as you do when you whip your tit out in public. It’s all one in the same. We all love our babies just as much as you do.

So let’s focus on supporting our mommy friends, instead of trying to change the way that THEY feel will make them the best mommies to their babies.

Until next time Divas,


Published by LaurenQuiroga

Just a loud, outspoken, wine loving Mama trying to make the world a better place one seflie at a time!

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