Switching to Formula With Confidence and Love – Let Go of Guilt

Breastfeeding is often presented as the only acceptable way to feed a baby. But the reality is more complicated. For many mothers, breastfeeding is not an option due to physical, emotional, or medical reasons. And yet, the pressure to breastfeed remains intense. The following stories show that feeding your baby isn’t a one-size-fits-all decision. These mothers made the best choice they could for their babies—and themselves. For many, that means switching to formula.

Amie’s Story: I Refuse to Feel Guilty

I spent six weeks trying to breastfeed exclusively. I pumped between feeds to boost my supply, and nothing changed. The most I ever got from both breasts combined was about one ounce. One breast hardly produced anything.

When I finally switched to formula and watched my baby stop crying, drink one bottle after another and actually get fed, I felt an enormous sense of relief. I never looked back.

With my second son, I didn’t even consider breastfeeding. The first experience of frustration and failure was enough. Everyone told me it must be my technique, but I spent hours trying everything I could and even worked with a lactation consultant for a month. Nothing worked.

When nurses gave me looks after my second was born and I made the decision to formula-feed, I loudly told the hospital staff, family, and anyone who questioned me that this was my choice. If they wanted to decide how to feed a baby, they could have one of their own. After that, no one asked again. I believe in education, but I won’t be guilt-tripped over a decision I made for the well-being of my child.

Kristen’s Story: Postpartum Depression and Anxiety

My little boy is ten months old now, and I went through so much pain, judgment, and depression over breastfeeding.

He lost a pound in the hospital and had amniotic fluid and meconium in his stomach, so for the first 24 hours, we couldn’t breastfeed. The hospital lactation consultants made me feel terrible, then sent me home with an intense feeding plan and formula to supplement.

We tried for six weeks. From birth to six weeks he only gained two ounces, though he had enough wet diapers and also had serious acid reflux.

Other moms and consultants told me it was my technique, that I was selfish, and that every woman can breastfeed if she tries harder. That destroyed my confidence.

We switched to formula, and he grew and thrived. But that entire ordeal triggered postpartum depression and anxiety. I want other women to be kind to themselves and remember: what matters most is helping your baby grow and thrive—however you feed them.

Lesley’s Story: Perfect Latch, Not Enough Milk

At 35 I had my son. Despite the first 24 hours in special care and me recovering from a C-section, he latched perfectly when I got him back. Two hours later he was still latched, even dozing while sucking.

But three days later, the routine hadn’t changed. He latched and sucked constantly, and still lost weight. A midwife finally told me to switch to formula. I felt like a complete failure.

The lactation team kept saying “perfect latch!” and “keep going, your milk will increase!” But there was barely any milk left. After the bottle, he finally slept. I cried.

Every feed was the same—45 minutes of latch, then a bottle. I pumped every day for three months. My supply kept dropping. At the end, I was producing just 5ml a day.

Eventually I chose time with my baby and others over hours at the pump. I later learned a medication I was on may have reduced my milk supply—but no one mentioned it at the time. They just kept saying, “Keep trying.”

Now I’m pregnant again. I’ll try breastfeeding, but I’ve got bottles, pumps, and formula ready too. The boobie police are already trying to tell me what to do, and the baby isn’t even born yet.

Lisa’s Story: I Am a Formula Feeder

“Hi, my name is Lisa, and I am a formula-feeder.”

For a long time I felt like I should stand in front of a group and say that, like I had something to be ashamed of.

My guilt came from everywhere—midwives, consultants, posters, strangers, society. And the harshest critic was me.

My mum breastfed both my brother and me past a year and donated milk. She often commented that peaceful babies must be breastfed. So when I got pregnant, I imagined myself nursing in a rocking chair, baby in my arms.

After 15 hours of labor and a C-section, I was too exhausted to breastfeed right away. By the next morning, the midwife panicked when she learned he hadn’t fed. She latched him on. He looked at my breast, then went back to sleep.

Over the next day, I was given 100 different instructions. He wouldn’t latch. I hand-expressed colostrum and fed him with a syringe. I watched other moms breastfeed while I struggled and sank into depression.

Some midwives were kind. Others were not. One stood over me, using a wet cloth to keep him awake while he screamed and I cried. I begged to be discharged. They agreed.

At home, I repeated the cycle: try to latch, hand express, feed with a bottle, cry. Over and over. I saw consultants, called helplines, spoke to doctors. Everyone said “keep trying.”

My husband finally said it was too much for both me and the baby. I stopped trying to latch and bought a breast pump. I expressed for two months. Then my milk dried up.

In the formula aisle, I cried. I didn’t know what to buy, so I picked the most expensive gold tin to ease the guilt. My baby drank it all and slept for five hours. No tears. He looked content.

He grew happier, more alert, and I started to feel better too. My husband fed him often. I could finally brush my teeth, shower, breathe.

In public, I hid the formula. I prepped it around corners before entering mother’s rooms, hoping no one noticed. But I began to realize—formula wasn’t the enemy. It kept him alive. He was thriving. I was a good mum.

I met other women with similar stories. My confidence grew. When asked, I simply said, “It wasn’t the right choice for us.”

When my second child also couldn’t breastfeed, we learned my milk ducts weren’t functioning well. I expressed what I could, but I switched to formula without hesitation.

Now, I feed him in my rocking chair and watch him fall asleep. He’s healthy, happy, and thriving. And I’m so grateful.

Conclusion on Switching to Formula

Feeding your baby is deeply personal. These stories show that what matters most isn’t how you feed, but that your baby is fed, safe, and loved. Formula feeding isn’t failure—it’s care, survival, and sometimes, healing. Every mother deserves support, not shame, no matter how she feeds her child.

Resources

• Postpartum Depression Support International
• Feeding Without Guilt – Fed is best

Other Pages Like This One

• My milk never came in
• I failed at breastfeeding
• Switching to formula
• I tried to breastfeed
• Feeling like a bad mom