Finding Peace with A Formula Feeding Past

I know what you're thinking... not one of THESE posts! Hopefully, though, it will be more of a comfort to you than anything... we shall see. :)

Before we start I want to make two things perfectly clear.

1. I am uber impressed, blessed, in awe, and (if I'm totally honest), completely jealous of mothers who nurse long-term. God has given you the amazing gift of being able to physically, emotionally, spiritually, and mentally handle caring for an infant for months with your own body in a world drastically different from the one that existed in the time nursing was created. You are doing not only what's best for your baby - but all babies.. I have so much respect and love for you all.

2. Moms who choose formula from the get-go. You are confident in what's best for your family without fear of judgment from others. Kudos.

Here is comes: I am a stay-at-home, formula feeding mom. There- I said it-whew!! Let me introduce you to the circumstances surrounding this choice for all 3 of my littles:

Baby # 1, Cohen

I had every desire to nurse. Cohen did not. The hospital freaked out about jaundice due to his weak latch. They did not offer much help, but did put him on a bottle the entire first night. I struggled the first few weeks.. using formula for a couple feedings during that time. We got the hang of it for a couple weeks, then lost it again. I ask for an extra week off of work (I was at a daycare at the time) to focus with him, but to no avail. Fortunately, until 2 months, he was at least fed breastmilk during the day time with a bottle. We switched to exclusive formula feeding around that time.


Baby # 2, Ella

We were working at a boy's group home, and I knew it was going to be hard to nurse, but I wanted to try again. Ella was incredible! She never took a bottle for the first five weeks. I so enjoyed the time I got to spend nursing her. Sadly, though, when we moved back into the boys' home, her reflux and tummy problems kicked in. I didn't have the luxury of changing my diet and I wasn't about to struggle with her under a nursing cover while maintaining my duties as a houseparent to 8 troubled teenage boys. I pumped as long as I was able and she received at least some breastmilk daily until 2 1/2 months. Whatever she took, unfortunately, it didn't matter. She still screamed for 18 months. :/

Baby # 3, Elijah

Most of you already know this story. Despite the grief and trauma of his birth. I pumped at first and then breastfed in the NICU. We did great until about 4 weeks. He made it to about 2 months on mostly breastmilk, though bottle fed the second month. At this point, postpartum depression overwhelmed me and I had to leave him for extended periods a couple times to get mentally healthy.


So, here's what you need to know.

* After my initial miscarriage (pre-Cohen), I was not mentally well. God has chosen to begin his healing only now, 8 years later, despite my best efforts to get well all along. This is what He has chosen for my story. This mental illness made it extremely difficult to breastfeed.

* I learned as a child- perhaps I was unintentionally taught, like many of us thirty-somethings- that if I couldn't do something perfectly, I might as well just quit. With nursing, I pushed through way longer than what my flesh was comfortable with. My past was playing mind games with me the entire time. My husband begged me to stop with the first two babies.

* I only sought out breastfeeding help with consultants over the phone. My first experience was a consultant who was rude and condescending. I was ashamed and scared of judgment from that point forward. Luckily, my consultant, here in WV was super sweet, calming me and talking me through a heartbreaking nursing "vacation" while bathing and caring for her own children.

Here's why I am trying to make peace:

* My kids (6, 3, and 10 months) are happy, healthy and beautiful. Even though I couldn't give them the best start nutritionally as long as I would've liked, I have a 3 year old daughter who has superior vocabulary for her age and jumps up and down when I bring blueberries home, a 6 year old son who eats bell peppers like candy, reads at a 3rd grade level, and can multiply, and a 10 month old who giggles constantly and loves avocados. .... I think I'm doing ok.

* God is sovereign over all. If breastfeeding my littles long-term was part of his plan, He would've broken through and made it happen.

* Have you ever thought of how different breastfeeding is now than it was in biblical times? First of all, diet was different.. better in many ways. But even the pressures on Mom. I was just talking to a friend the other day about how when one woman was nursing in the book of Genesis, other women in the household (other wives, maidservants, aunts, mothers, etc.) were doing everything else... including taking care of the other children. For Christian women today, unless you're fortunate enough to be able to hire help, (which we are not), we are doing it mostly solo. We don't live in community like we used to. Many of us are not even physically and/or emotionally close to our mothers. Do you think formula, in a way, to be God's redemptive grace to those of us who are flying solo during the day?

Listen, as mothers, we all have areas where we are weak, weary, and even selfish.

Maybe one of my areas (even the selfish part) was nursing, but you have one or two areas as well.

Maybe you had the strength to push through, to seek help, to go for months nursing, despite the heartache and stress it may have caused at times. Maybe, it simply came really easy and totally naturally to you.

Maybe you decided to formula feed from the start because you really felt that it was what was best for your family.

Either way, you did it for a reason, and I am confident that any mother reading this loves her baby just as much as the next.

I feel like one of my strengths is speaking to children; explaining things in a way the understand. Sometimes, I listen to moms who don't have that gift and think, "Geez! Why can't they do what I do? It's soo easy! You may have to work at it for awhile, but eventually, it's second nature!"

But it's not to them.. and it may never be. Just like nursing was not to me. So, I need to do what I pray nursing moms can do for me - give them grace.

Whether it's this issue or another- I pray that we follow the old school rule and worry about ourselves.

REMEMBER THIS: You have no idea what is going on in someone else's life - their mind, heart, and body -NONE!

I pray that we can give grace and offer friendship to those who parent differently.

I'll be honest, I'm still searching for peace on the nursing issue. This blog is an attempt at that.. therapy almost. I think it's so hard because for one, I want to believe that I've done everything perfect for my child. This is sinful idolatry, not to mention impossible. Also, the enemy is telling me that I was somehow disobedient by not nursing my children longer, and that there will be consequences for that. (Yeah, he likes to mess with my theology. :))  Lastly, I feel judged. I want to take my children places. I want to be more of a part of mom support groups, but I feel like this is such a touchy topic, and that truthfully, many moms have and will judge me based on how I fed my own child their first year of life.

I have to constantly remind myself this - That if I am in Christ, I am loved, my babies were given to me on purpose, and that He will use even my weaknesses for my good and His glory.

Joy and Suffering: A Suprisingly Beautiful Harmony and My Journey Back to Life

I've been looking at the computer monitor for a few minutes and I just take these deep breaths. Most of you know our horrible, beautiful, ridiculous story, or at least parts of it.

I haven't written for a long time. There's a reason for that. I told myself that I wouldn't write publically until I was standing on the other side of the chasm. I can confidently say that I am. I can also say with much certainty that Jesus plucked me up and dropped me on the other side. HE did it. No other explanation.

So, in this blog post, I will first share the facts. I will then share the journey.

The Facts

In October of 2013, we found out we were pregnant. It was planned and I was excited! This would be our third and final pregnancy. I was sooo happy for a third child, but I was equally happy to be done. Pregnancy and nursing had been hard for me mentally and emotionally. With my anxiety disorders, I was always more on edge during these times, and although I would take a house full of children, this biological thing was wearing me down.

I had an early ultrasound that showed a beautiful little peanut with a beating heart in November.

In January, there were two. They were sharing the same placenta, and their amnionic sacs were so close together that the technician could barely see the line that divided them.

A week later, she could tell an ounce difference in their size. She strongly suggested that we see a fetal specialist, but our OB didn't seem concerned.

A couple weeks and another ultrasound later, the specialist called us. He had seen our ultrasound and he wanted us in his clinic ASAP.

We went, and it was a dark, but not yet the darkest, day. He told us that our babies had Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome. They were sharing blood vessels. One was taking in all the nutrients and the other was only receiving waste. One was growing too fast; the other, too slow. Left alone, the little one would die in utero; the bigger one, a few days to a week after birth.

BUT.. there was hope. Cincinnatti Children's Hospital performed a surgery that would severe the vessels and as long as we came promptly, both our sweet boys would be saved and healthy.

Sounded like a great plan, but it wasn't God's.

We went.. and after a great day of hopeful tests, there was horrific news.  The baby's umbilical cords were too close together. If the surgeons were to enter my womb, they would both most likely kill them both.

Now, we had to just wait. I had to take awful meds, stay on bedrest, visit Cincy every week, and wait.

So for a whole month, we did this. All the while, thinking of the endless possibilities... Death for both infants. Two very sick babies in the NICU for months. Two severely disabled children. One severely disabled and one normal child.... the list was endless... and we had no clue what to prepare for... we couldn't even prepare our hearts.

On a Wednesday, my fetal specialist in Huntington said, "Your little guy is dying and the longer you wait, the greater the chances that it will be too late for your bigger guy's heart, and the greater the risk of stroke."  I thought, "What a downer! Cincinnati Children's is so much more positive!"

But the next day, on our drive from our Cincy hotel to the hospital, we talked about it.

We had decided to call our boys Micah and Elijah. They deserved names .. no matter what. It was easy to name our big twin Elijah. After all, in the Bible, Elijah was larger than life.

Micah was dying. He's suffering, so should we just end it? "Pull the plug" so to speak? What about our belief in God? What about Elijah? We didn't know what to do...

But God did, and He did it.

We found out in the boys' echo that He had taken Micah home.

Sadness and relief had never mingled so intricately together in my heart. We wept and lamented a little, but aside from a 30% chance of stroke for Elijah, the nightmare was over. So many questions had been answered and resolved.. We could breathe again.

A month later, Elijah had a final echo and MRI.. Beautiful heart, beautiful mind.. and who says there isn't a God?

I never anticipated what it would be like for a woman like me who struggled with OCD and anxiety, to carry a deceased and a living child at the same time. It was HARD. I'll talk more about that later.

I just survived. I didn't take pics, I didn't enjoy the pregnancy, I just went through the motions.

Then, came week 35. I was so mad when my doc told me he wanted to induce and refused to wait until 40 weeks. I was ticked when he told me that because of going this route, my little boy would spend a week in the NICU. He wanted to be safe. I wanted a happy, healthy full-term baby.

On the other hand, never had I been so ready to not be pregnant. Never had I been so ready to purge the tragedy that had occurred in my body. So, we did it.

After 34 hours of labor, Micah was presenting and was taken from my womb so that Elijah could move down.  We had already said our goodbyes. We thought we'd already mourned. They said he would be so tiny we could barely recognize him. They compared his shriveled "cocoon" to a quarter. But this wasn't the case. He was a 1 lb. baby. With little fingers and toes... everything.

So, Micah had been retrieved and it was time to deliver Elijah as soon as he came down. Unfortunately, when the nurse placed the monitor back on my belly, there was nothing. No heartbeat, no movement. And when the doctor was called in, the head monitor made the most horrific.... dut........dut....................dut. All the color drained out of her face, and I'll never forget her words.....

"Honey, we don't have time for a C section and I know that you're only at 8 cm, but you MUST push."

I pushed... so hard, but I pushed, screaming in fear, and all the while hearing almost audibly, "Crystal, you MUST trust me. My will is for you to trust me." 

A moment later, my sweet Elijah. The cord was wrapped around his neck three times, but it was quickly removed and oh, that beautiful scream. Louder than El and Cohen when they were born. The most faith-confirming, worshipful, God-glorifying scream I had ever heard. And then, more words from the doctor that I will never forget.

"He's ok, He's just perfect, and Mom, you saved his life."

We were emotional over our other two, but for Ryan and I, the tears just flowed with our little Elijah, our larger than life little boy.

It occurred to me, hours later, that at 40 weeks, he would've been too big. I couldn't have "saved his life". We would've lost them both.  Call it coincidence, luck... I call it Sovereignty. I call it mercy. I call it a Powerful, Mighty God.

So, those are the facts, but the journey had just begun.

The Journey

I want to say that during my journey, God used soo many people. Some still don't know how deeply their words effected my spirit. I never, ever want the positive thoughts and notions to come across as Crystal originals. A few of these people included my counselor, our four supportive parents, a dear friend in Indiana, a dear friend in Tennessee, and my best girlfriend here. But there were many more, including an entire ladies support group and I know, so many of you praying.

 No one helped me more than my wonderful, faithful, husband. When he promised for better or worse, he didn't know what he was promising, but he has stood by my side and loved my broken self like I was whole. Ridiculously. Loyal.

Micah's death started it all. I had been in denial and survival mode until then. Then, life slowed down and I began to see the bigness, the tragedy, the sadness of the situation. But, the interesting thing about my brain is that it doesn't process those emotions very well.. It seeks avoidance.. and it finds it in OCD.

I began to clean, I began to refuse to eat many foods, I began to research the most obscure things on the internet. It ebbed and flowed before Elijah's birth and stay in the NICU, and then it took off after life got back to normal and even after we gave our testimony at church.

I stayed up for hours on end looking at fringe articles and coming up with all the ways I had destroyed my children... I hadn't homemade their baby food, I didn't try hard enough to nurse, I used too many chemicals on their skin and in our house, I bathed them too much, I gave them too many vitamins.. I had killed my children.. I had shortened their days.. and then the morning came. I had figured it out. I was sure of it.

Micah's death was my fault. I had done it. There was no other explanation.

Enter the darkness. The desperation. The week at my parent's house with my kids where a bottle of pills looked like a pleasant way out. Never thought that before. But my kids didn't deserve me. They needed a better mother. I told my parents what I was thinking. I went to the hospital. I stayed a week. I got on some meds. God started his healing.

I was seeing a Christian counselor and doing well, but it happened again... the darkness, the desparation, and I was back in the hospital. More meds, but a horrific experience. Here I was with Postpartum, OCD, Generalized Anxiety, PTSD, and now, a new dose of the last.

But, between that July day that I left the second hospital and now, God performed a miracle. A true miracle.

For seven years...SEVEN... I had been angry and confused. Upon my first miscarriage, I put my Bible down and rarely picked it up. It ebbed and flowed with our moves and losses. The basic premise was "But God, I went to a Christian school, I married a PASTOR, we waited 3 years before we tried to have children, I've followed him everywhere, and .... how could you not bless me?? How could you not give me my desires??"

And then, as of recent, in this grief-stricken, terrible time, I became passionate about reading His word again, and writing to him continually, and I began to realize he TRULY loved me. I want every mother to hear this. Every mother with a regenerate, Christian heart, because it's the truth.


You say, "I am a dispicable mom. I feed my kids the wrong things. I'm selfish. I haven't been "natural" enough. I screamed today. I'm worthless, I'm useless, I'm not doing it right. I shouldn't be working, I should stay home. I sin against my kids. There are times I put my needs above theirs. I feel guilty because I didn't nurse. I feel guilty because they didn't have a vegetable today. I feel guilty because their father walked out. I feel guilty because I can't provide for them what I want to. "

Jesus said, "You're right about one thing. You are despicable. You are a daughter of Eve. A sinner. Imperfect. Dirty, filthy rags in the sight of my father. You have no ability to earn God's love. You are his enemy. Because he is just. Because he is perfect. Because he is holy. Left to yourself, You will never, ever win his approval.

But.. then there's Me. I sacrificed my life for you. I lived and died for you. If you believe, if you have put all your trust in Me, you should know that I took all that disgustingness that oozes from you away from you and carried it with me to the Cross. You are perfect in the sight of a Holy God. You are His child; unconditionally loved by Him. It is finished. Live for me."

OR..

You say, "I'm such a good mom. I make and serve a perfectly clean diet. I never raise my voice to my kids. I nursed all my babies. I find parenting easy. I use oils all the time. I would never think of putting a paraben anywhere near my kid. I work out. My 18 month old knows all his ABCs. I'm a great example."

Jesus says, "You are miserably wrong. Even your best days, your most compassionate and well intended works; they are filthy rags to God. You are no better than the mom on the street corner. You are filled with pride and arrogance and through your obsession over these menial, trivial things, you are filling other moms; weaker, younger, baby Christian moms with anxiety and fear. You are causing them to sin."

But.. then there's Me. You MUST lay down your own righteousness and take mine. Trust in me. Rely on my Spirit. You don't have to find your self-worth in such shallow places. You can be a daughter of the King, and you can stop running on your own fuel.. because you'll run out, and your husband and kids will suffer.. and you will be lost. Let go. Just let go. Follow me."

My biggest lesson learned from all my "research"? There is a mom war in our culture. It has permeated the church, and it breaks the heart of God.

Our life has been blessed, but nuts. From youth ministry, to work in a boys' home, crossing the state lines again back into youth ministry here.....and, now preparing for the day where eventually, we will shepherd a flock.

 I look back and think of all the things I've done wrong. Every single quirk and tantrum I've blamed either on my anxiety or "stupidity".  I get on facebook and see six pack abs and pictures of meals cooked by moms who spend all day in the kitchen and think I'm the stay-at-home mom community's award-winning failure.

 I also go to the flip side, and think, "Man, look at this mom, on her third baby daddy, only getting to see those precious ones half the time... I'm sooo much better than her."

Yeah, I do both. I swing like a pendulum. Mostly to despair.. mostly to "bad mom" talk, but only now am I finding the blessed middle. I have friends that live in the middle....

That middle mom, she's the one who you can tell REALLY enjoys her children.

She's the one who doesn't let others' posts that are clearly self praising get her down, but she doesn't play the game either. Nope.. she just keeps talking about how blessed she is, how much God has given her. She points to him. When she posts pics, they can be of her children's greatest achievements or of them.. ahem... showing their depraved nature. ;)

 She doesn't have time for the competition, the game because she's too busy enjoying her kids. She's the one who makes sure her kids eat their veggies as much as she can, but also secretly enjoys watching them delight in a big fat brownie with ice cream or a 4 pack of nuggets occasionally from McDonald's (or Ole' Donald's as my middle child calls it. :)).

She's not afraid of parabens or germs, but she does her best to be as natural as she can, as healthy as she can, as well-rounded as she can, and as loving as she can. She leans on Christ, and when she lays her head on her pillow, she rests in His Sovereignty over the Clorox wipe her kid decided to eat that day. :)

That mom.... wasn't me before we lost Micah... but she's becoming me...because I'm being transformed into the likeness of Christ. He's moving in a way I never thought imaginable.

Love. That's the key. If you truly love your kids the way Christ does, you will be absolutely compelled to give them healthy foods, to make sure they get plenty of exercise and limit their screens. You will be sure to set the example. You will avoid letting your kids see you lose your cool. You will preach the gospel and read the Bible to them.  You will be a "good mom".

But, you will not be perfect, and the peace of knowing that Christ is your perfection so you don't have to be... that you can even LAUGH at your imperfections and how they shine so brilliantly in your own children.. will cover you like a warm blanket.

The biggest thing that I've taken away from the mom thing (which is really a "Christ obedience" thing) is that no matter how much I think I've screwed up with my kids.....

They are COMPLETELY who and where God wants them to be.

COMPLETELY. Can you comprehend that? No matter if they're babies or grown, He's sovereign, He's absolutely in control over their life, and no matter what you "put them through", He let you. So who are you really calling a screw up??

Do you know what this means? It means you can move forward TODAY. You can forgive yourself when breakfast is a cold bowl of lucky charms and you can teach your kids about humility when you yell and have to say you're sorry.  It means that you can use that very scenario to talk to them about the gospel, how we're all screwed up, but if we believe, Christ has already taken care of that. You can be a sister in Christ to your child when they come to know Jesus instead of just Mom. You can punish when it's needed and delight in your children and spouse and you can move forward when you make mistakes and sin; simply learning from it and not drowning in guilt over it.

So.. how do I feel about Micah's death now??

Listen, I could do EVERYTHING to keep my kids alive. I could lather them with essential oils (which I do on occasion because I like them :)), I could cook with nothing artificial and everything organic ( and I try to do as much as I can), and I could make sure they got fresh air and a Vitamin D sun bath everyday. BUT if I don't live with a healthy recognition that I could put them in the car, reach down to turn the heat up, blow through a stop sign, and loose all three of them at once, then I just don't get it.

God allows and chooses. We don't get to pick. We just get to live in the peace that it's all for our good and His glory.

No, Micah's death wasn't my fault. If there was ever anything that wasn't my fault, that was it. It was an anatomical anomaly that had nothing to do with what I did or didn't do.

But I will tell you that God has, is and will be using it. I would never call my baby's death a blessing, but it was His sovereign will. His design to wake. me. up.  And that little boy, He's safer in the arms of Jesus than he'll ever be with me, and that deserves praise to Him who reigns and it brings me a peace beyond compare. So much peace, that I am med free, and His grace abounds.

I beg you...love your kids. First and foremost, continually give them the gospel daily. Let that be their first and most natural food.. Then do your best to nourish those little minds and bodies so that they can be, like we say in our house.. "BIG, STRONG, and HEALTHY!"  That's simply being obedient to Your Rescuer, Jesus. But don't think for a moment that these things will add days to their life or keep them from sin. You're just not in charge of that. You don't get to pick. You don't have to be in control...

So shout "Amen!", shut off the lies of facebook, shut down your laptop, and go enjoy those precious babies as worship to your God.