A few weeks ago, I happily entered the grocery store, grabbed a can of baby formula, and headed towards the register. I was positively giddy. As the clerk ran the can over the scanner and told me my total, I could barely contain my excitement. I quickly ran my card through the reader and grabbed my receipt. As I stepped foot through the grocery store’s sliding doors to exit, it took everything I could not to throw my hands in the air and yell, “FREEDOM!”. (Think Braveheart without the face paint.)
Anyone watching me leave the store probably would have thought I stole something.
But that purchase was important – and very freeing – because that can of formula is my last. And not just my last can of formula until the next kid comes along, as in years past. This can is my LAST. Ever. Period.
That means that I no longer have to figure out what store is having a sale on formula each week. I no longer have to trade formula coupons with friends or strangers because of the absolutely obscene cost. Gone are the days of purchasing multiple cans of formula due to a great sale, leaving the store with a 3-figure receipt, and feeling like I didn’t by any “real” food. My purse will no longer be a breeding ground for formula coupons and checks (all of which seem to multiply only after they expire, of course). I no longer have to explain to cashiers that a formula check is actually a tender type instead of a coupon or that yes, in fact, you can use a manufacturers coupon, store coupon and formula check on the same purchase, only to be told to apply for state assistance because it’s “easier” than coupons. And best of all, I’ll never have to cringe at paying full price for formula ever again.
We are done. Finished. Finito.
As I looked at the very bottom of the formula can this morning, which had only 2-3 scoops left in it, I almost felt sad. It’s bittersweet, really. Everett is my last baby and he’s growing up. After nearly 6 months of being in a strange, toddler-free place, I find myself right back in the toddler years. Hold me. And it’s not that I don’t like formula, because I do. I love that it was an alternative when breastfeeding was no longer an option. I love the convenience it offered. I loved that it filled my children’s bellies and made them grow.
But my appreciation for formula pretty much ends there.
I hate the cost. I hate the judgment that all to often comes with formula feeding. I hate that it was a quiet reminder that breastfeeding didn’t work out for me. I hate being so dependent on it. And I hate the cost. Oh wait, did I already mention that one? Seriously, it’s a $32.99 (every 6 days!) habit that we need to kick. Pronto.
So today, I declare my independence…from formula. Bring on the whole milk.
