I don’t need reassurance from friends that formula feeding is adequate. The hospital nurses’ salvos on the virtues of breastfeeding didn’t tempt me.
When milk leaked through my shirt at the sound of my newborn crying, I changed shirts and grabbed a bottle. Throughout my baby’s four months of life, I’ve been happy to formula feed, glad that an option exists for me to nourish my child.
During her early morning meals, I cuddle her in my arms, telling her about our day ahead. “It’s Friday, so you know what that means, honey,” I say. “Daddy’s working on campus today.
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