I poisoned my children and I'm not sorry

I take a knitting class at the Y on Thursdays.  It's a small group and I've always enjoyed it except for the last two weeks.  Two weeks ago, I felt attacked and on the defensive when the teacher was going on and on AND ON about the wonders of breastfeeding, the evils of formula, how most mothers are lazy and unwilling to try and what BS it is when women say they couldn't do it and gave up.  She BF her 4 daughters and apparently it was beautiful, spiritual and as easy as breathing.  Sounds like Jesus, the Blessed Mother and Mohammed all showed up to clap and do the wave for her at one point, that's how much her boobs rocked.  All this was said to another member of the group who is having her first child and until that night, was on the fence about BF.  I'm as far from confrontational as you can get.  However, I couldn't just sit there a moment longer and not defend myself and my formula feeding sisters who tried their best and ended up formula feeding because of poor milk supply/non-thriving baby/need for dangerous medications/fill in the blank with your own reason.  Without looking up from my knitting, I said, "Wow, Marilyn.  That's wonderful for you and it must have been great to have such an easy time with it.  I guess you didn't have a preemie in the NICU for a month who refused to eat without a feeding tube which required you to set your alarm and pump every two hours, hoping to maintain a supply strong enough for when he finally came home?  And then did you have to wear a nipple shield b/c he couldn't get your giant slippery boob in his tiny little mouth?  Would someone in that situation count as lazy or just not trying hard enough?"  

Then I looked at the pregnant girl and told her that it's not always easy and natural and that it's better to know that going in so you don't feel like a failure if you have trouble.  I urged her to take a BF class and to find a lacation consultant's number to have on hand in case she has any questions.  I told her that it is the very best feeding option for her baby and that I hope she is successful.  She seemed surprised that I wasn't all sunshine and roses about the nursing experience but I thought she should hear the truth -- It's hard, it hurts and it's not natural in the beginning.  It is worth all of the pain and effort of the first few weeks but there is a learning curve.  I wish someone had been honest with me about the whole thing so I wouldn't have felt like such a failure.  Only after I failed did I hear other war stories and realized that I wasn't the only one who tried SO HARD and didn't succeed.

The teacher humphed and looked annoyed.  She so wanted me to be one of those lazy people so she could continue to believe only higher life forms like her do things the right way so she peppered me with questions.  "Did you get engorged?"  No.  "Wasn't it crazy when your boobs would get rock hard and sore?"  Never happened.  "How about when you finally stopped.  Wasn't it so painful?"  Nope, they didn't feel any different than any other day.  I also never changed bra sizes, pumped more than 2 oz in a 20 minute period, tingled, leaked or squirted anyone in the face.  (GROSS!!!)  My boobs were the first complete abject failure of my life.  She finally said something like, "Well, there are always a few exceptions but..." and then went on to her next wacky story.  Whatever, bitch.  Her kids are all grown and married.  Why is she still carrying on like she BF them yesterday?  Why does it have to be such a competition?  BF vs. formula, working vs. staying home (another post to follow), the mommy wars list goes on and on.  Why do we judge each other when we're all doing the best we can?  Never have I needed so much support as I have in motherhood career and never have I felt more of a need to create and preserve a perfect facade.  It's really insane and although I try to have the buck stop here by being honest in my blog (I yell!  There are toys all over the house!  Jack has anxiety!  Natalie ate Starburst for breakfast!) it is hard to let down my guard sometimes because being judged sucks even when I know that I am doing what is best for us.  That's right, for us.  Not for everyone else, perhaps, but who cares about them and why should they care about us?  It makes no sense.