Why I Breastfed One Baby and Formula-Fed the Other — And Why I’m Done Feeling Guilty About It

If there’s one thing motherhood is full of, it’s opinions. From the moment that pregnancy test turns positive, everyone and their great-aunt has something to say about how you should raise your baby. But there’s no topic quite as loaded as how you feed your child.

I know this all too well.

I was 17 years old when I had my first son. A teenager, still a kid myself in many ways. I was scared, overwhelmed, and didn’t know a thing about breastfeeding. All I knew was that formula was there, it was accessible, and it felt like the safest and most realistic choice for me at the time.

I remember standing in the formula aisle at the store, my hands shaking as I looked at all the different cans. I felt like every eye in that store was on me, silently judging me as “that young girl who couldn’t even try to breastfeed.” But at 17, I was just trying to survive. I was learning how to be a mom while still figuring out who I was.

So I chose formula. And my son grew, and he thrived. He hit his milestones, learned to laugh and run and love. He is strong, healthy, and more loved than he will ever know.

Then, nearly 10 years later, I became a mom again. This time, I was older, more settled, and more confident. My second son arrived when I was in a completely different season of life. I decided I would try breastfeeding. At first, I was terrified. I worried about the latch, the pain, the late nights, and whether my body would “fail” me somehow. But slowly, we figured it out together.

And I breastfed my second son for 17 months.

I spent many late nights and early mornings rocking him, half-asleep, hair in a messy bun, whispering songs as he nursed. I cherished those quiet moments when it felt like it was just me and him against the world.

But let me tell you a secret: both of those experiences taught me more about love than I ever imagined.

With my first son, I learned that love sometimes looks like making the best choice you can with what you have, even if it doesn’t match someone else’s definition of “perfect.”

With my second son, I learned that love can be messy and exhausting and beautiful all at the same time.

I carried guilt for a long time. Guilt that I “failed” my first son by not breastfeeding. Guilt that I didn’t try harder. Guilt that he didn’t get those sleepy milk-drunk smiles or the same midnight bonding. But over time, I realized that guilt wasn’t serving me — or them.

The truth is, there is no perfect way to feed a baby. There is only what works for you, your baby, and your life at that moment.

Formula-fed babies are not any less loved. Breastfed babies aren’t magically more bonded. Both feeding journeys are valid, beautiful, and worthy of pride.

My first son, who is now a strong, smart, and kind young man, taught me resilience, patience, and how to keep going when the world feels heavy. My second son taught me surrender, softness, and how to trust my body.

Both of them taught me that motherhood isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up every day, doing your best, and loving your babies fiercely no matter what.

So if you’re a new mom struggling with the choice, or a mom carrying guilt years later, please hear me: You did not fail. You made the best choice you could with the heart and tools you had at the time. And that is enough.

Whether it’s a bottle or a boob, whether you nurse for two days or two years, whether you pump or supplement or switch back and forth — you are enough.

Your baby needs your love, not your guilt.

Looking back, I wouldn’t change either journey. Both were exactly what they were supposed to be. And both of my sons are healthy, strong, and know they are deeply loved.

I am done apologizing for how I fed my babies. And if you need it, I give you permission to be done too.