You And Your Breastfeeding Tits Aren't All That And A Bag Of Chips

Stop judging me.

You think I chose this? You think it was my first number one pick to give my baby inferior food from birth? Do you think I enjoy doing dishes and having to wash and sanitize a million parts to a thousand bottles daily? Are you judging me for not nursing my baby?

You're wrong on all counts.

I see your judgmental glares across the Attachment Parenting Group meeting. I saw your prying eyes of disbelief in the vaccination seminar Monday night.

I know who you are. I know you think you're better than me.

Let me tell you something, Little Miss Milkbags. I didn't have a choice as you do. My choice was let my baby starve to death or give him formula. So of course I gave him formula! I wasn't fortunate enough to have your plentiful breastmilk supply. As much as I tried, I never experienced a let down reflex. I'd try to get baby to nurse, but he would get so fatigued and angry from suckling so hard to get nothing. I'll have you know that I DO nurse my son, at every feeding. I hold him and cuddle him and stroke his hair and whisper to him how very much I love him. We snuggle together and he smiles and coos at me and his emotional needs are met as his nutritional needs are filled.

But this wasn't a choice, it was just what happened.

Similar to my friend who unexpectedly got pregnant on the pill, and then found out that her too-good-to-be-true boyfriend/future husband was really too good to be true. Now she embarks upon single motherhood and I applaud her. It's a hard path, but don't judge her. It wasn't a choice, it was just what happened.

We don't get to control it all. To some experiences in life, we truly are victims of circumstance and we just have to roll with it, and do the best we can with what we've got.

That's how tough ladies are made.

So stop looking at me like I am abusing my child by feeding him manufactured milk. I am doing my fucking best, okay? I'm sorry it is not up to your Stellar Standards of Perfection, but maybe you should just step off and keep your unattainable perfectness to your damn self. Because there is a whole big world out there of people just like me, who find themselves caught in a less than ideal situation and have to suck it up and make the best of it.

Motherhood as a profession is itself inherently wrought with all kinds of inconsolable Mommy Guilt. Must you lay more on me? What good purpose does that serve? Does it benefit anybody except you, who must get off in some sick way by making other people feed bad about themselves?

Screw you and your judgment of me as a Mother. You don't know me. You don't know my life, my pains, my trials, my struggles. All you know is what you see at first glance and if you want to judge me as a bad mother based on that, I don't want to have anything to do with you anyways.

So congratulations on your big, milky chest. Next time you stare me and my Dr. Brown's bottle down, I hope you become painfully engorged. And I will bounce away, in my very stylish and comfortable bra while sipping some caffeinated beverage you can't have. Suck it deep, you Judgmental Asshole.