Well, ok. It's a long story though.
Have coppy/pasted from the last time someone asked me this.
Ok
This post may be misunderstood. Please read it to the end.
When I was pregnant with ds1, I knew I was not going to breastfeed. I had never in my life seen anyone breastfeeding, but had made formula up for my younger sister's bottles many many times.
The concept of breastfeeding was utterly alien to me. It was something for middle class mums in their thirties, with planned babies and husbands and mortgages and a lady who 'does' and a detached house. What the hell had it got to do with a non married, unplanned pregnancy, homeless 22 year old? Nothing. That's not, in my experience, what single young homeless pregnant women plan.
Why, I thought, would I want to squeeze bodily fluid out of a part of my body and shove it down my precious baby's throat. Breast feeding repulsed me. Breast milk repulsed me. Whenever my nipples leaked colostrum, I had to wash my breasts and change my (permenent fixture) breast pad. I was disgusted with my body for taking over my life in this way, for not doing as I wanted, for getting in my way. I wanted to take the pregnancy off and hang it over the bannister until I could have the baby. My swollen breasts were a symbol of everything I hated about my life at the time. I hated them, and I certainly didn't want the revolting things anywhere near my precious baby. So I bottle fed him, very happily.
Of course, I had PND after the birth, but in the circumstances, PND was probably just a case of when, rather than if.
Fast forward to ds2. Pregnany was traumatic, as some here may recall. Perfectly healthy pregnancy, practically insane mother.
But this time, I was a little more clued up on breast feeding. I wanted to try to do it. I had finally brought myself to a point where I wasn't frightened to try new things.
Unfortunatly, by the time Ds2 was born, I had had to start a course of antidepressants, and had been prescribed (although refused to take) tranquillisers. In the delivery room, straight after the birth, the midwife asked me how I intended to feed. "Um, breast" I tentatively sqeaked.
She asked me about my medication. Disappeared to talk to someone, came back and told me I had to stop takintg the pills, or I couldn't breastfeed. I asked her to double check, she went of and came back 10 minutes later, and said again. No.
So ds2 has also been raised on the bottle, and that one hurt. That one really hurt, because I made that decision on what was best for %me. I would have become very very ill if I came off those pills - but ds2 could have had pure, unadulterated breastmilk, which I wanted him to have. But....
Doesn't he also deserve a well mummy? Should ds1, who was never breastfed, have to suffer a miserable and withdrawn mother for the sake of ds2's breastmilk, which is an advantage ds1 never had?
I made the decision and while I what outraged at myself, I was secretly relieved, too. I had been let off the hook by my own uselessness.
***
People have their own complex reasons for not wanting to breastfeed. To demand that they tell you the truth about their choice is sometimes an intrusion too far. Many people will simply take the easy route and say "Ew, Gross." or "My husband wouldn't like it" or "Formula is just as good".