Running out of formula is probably one of the worst feelings a parent can have. It sneaks up on you and yet it’s so easily avoided. From what I’ve seen and heard every parent does it once – and only once. That feeling of guilt and even shame is more than enough motivation to stock up like you’re preparing for the End of Days. But it’s not the end of the world. A quick trip to the grocery store and everything is right as rain. Unless, of course, you’re like us.
You see, my wife and I could be considered semi-“crunchy” – the type who prefer glass over plastic and organic over processed, but still appreciate two-day shipping and a working espresso machine. We’ve read “Nourishing Traditions” by Sally Fallon and try to incorporate some of that old-school wisdom into our modern diet. Fermented veggies, sour-dough bread, grass-fed meat – all prepared as traditionally as possible.
The little one isn’t left out either. When breastfeeding didn’t work out for us, we already had a back up in place. Naturally, the standard formula they give out at the hospital wasn’t “good enough” for our little angel. We wanted her to have the best we could afford.
We found a couple nice, cow’s milk-based alternatives and settled on a brand. I won’t mention it here, but it was a good brand. Our baby seemed to be thriving on it – and I was happy with the can design (weird Dad thing, I know). I even 3d printed a funnel to keep from spilling that precious powder, and we were really getting into the swing of things as new parents.
Then it happened.
I threw out an empty can and went to the pantry to take out the next one.
I didn’t see it….
“Babe, where’s the formula?”
“Should be in the pantry, Love.”
The Calamity
I looked and looked. I moved stuff around – boxes, cans, bags – but came up empty. That sinking feeling formed a pit in my stomach.
We ran out!
Thankfully, this was the last feeding of the day. We were all but ready to tuck her into her bassinette and get some well deserved shut eye.
So much for that plan.
Freshly loaded with anxiety we struggled to sleep that night and awoke earlier than usual. The plan: be at the store the moment it opens to get the formula before the baby’s next feeding time.
Oh, did I mention we had to go forty-five minutes away to get this magical formula? Yeah… We live in a rural town, and the only major grocery store is Walmart. Suffice it to say, they don’t carry formula that meets our pseudo-hippie standards.
We had to make a pilgrimage to the closest Target to find a decent organic formula. Ah Target – the Mecca of white women and yuppies alike. Say what you will, but their baby section is pretty solid – way better than what you’ll find in Small Town Walmart.
The Quest
So, we packed up our little miracle in the ol’ Jeep Renegade and began our quest. The sun had just started peeking over the horizon as we zoomed through the early-spring countryside to collect our bounty. All things considered it was a nice morning. The sky was clear. Traffic was minimal. Not a bad day for a baby food emergency.
The Peril
Our goal was three towns over… but before we could even make it to the next town, tragedy struck.
I heard a loud POP and the jeep began to shake violently!
“Oh no! I think I know what that was.”
Being a mechanic by trade I know a thing or two about vehicles. I know their reputations too – and the problems that tend to haunt certain models.
Now, don’t get me wrong, Jeeps are fun. My first car was a Jeep Grand Cherokee, and I always liked the history of the brand. But let’s just say that old Jeep reputation for being a battle-hardened adventure machine is wearing a bit thin these days.
The Jeep Renegades in particular are known for transmission issues. And, as fate would have it, that specter of poor design chose this trip to make its dramatic entrance.
I did get a good run out of the old girl, though – 178,000 miles without any real trouble. That’s practically mythological for this model!
Back to the action!
Jeep: Shakey
Baby: fussy
Wife: concerned
But me? cool as a cucumber. A frustrated and slightly pissed-off cucumber, but cool none the less.
I popped the gear into neutral to see if it was the engine or the transmission that was FUBAR.
The engine revved like normal, but the car was still rattling like a washing machine full of bricks.
“Must be the torque converter.”
I jumped back into drive and kept on bopping down the road. There wasn’t anything I could do about it right then and we still had a mission to complete. With hazards flashing and an uneasy heart, we limped our way to our destination.
Twenty minutes of rapid thumping later, we made it to Target. That red bull’s-eye never looked so good.
The Conundrum
. I stayed in the car to keep it running (and soothe the child). My wife went into the store to get the goods. Ten minutes later I got the call.
“They don’t have any formula!”
As luck would have it, the formula we were using was on sale. Unfortunately, we did not get to capitalize on that sale. The shelf that normally held that product was stripped completely bare. This phenomenon of human selfishness is especially irksome to my wife and she called me in a panic.
“It’s ok, love,” I said. “What else do they have?”
The Resolution
After a few minutes of researching the products that were available on the shelf we settled on a new brand: Bobbie.
Now, one thing you need to be carful of when switching formula is the type of formula. Some are based on soy others on cow’s milk. There’s even goat milk based formula! Either way you need to be sure and transition your baby to the new formula properly. There’s a whole process that you can read about here.
This new formula is also milk-based so the transition wouldn’t be too bad. The ingredients and manufacturing process looked pretty solid. European style formula for the American market. This Bobbie brand was even started by a mother frustrated with the lack of quality options on the market. I see why my wife was drawn to it despite her frantic searching.
The Homecoming
With our new source of infantile nourishment successfully secured we made the trek back up the mountain to our humble abode.
We endured the rhythmic self-destruction of my loyal steed for a solid hour, but we finally pulled into our driveway. I put her in park and killed the engine for, what I feared, might be the last time. Alas, the Jeep is no longer fit to carry our precious cargo. Ten years of reliable service brought to an end. RIP Jeep Renegade
The Moral
Once we were settled in and the baby was fed (we did have another can of the old stuff put away, but forgot where it was until after we got home) we returned to Bobbie’s website to explore an interesting feature we noticed. They had a subscription!
I know, I know. Not another subscription. Don’t we have enough of those? I get it, we all have subscription fatigue at this point, but this is different. You might not want to watch everything on Hulu or Netflix, but your baby wants to eat everyday. More than once a day, in fact. So a subscription to their formula is actually a good idea. It prevents you forgetting to add it to the shopping list and having a crisis like we did. They deliver it right to your door, too! There really is no excuse not to sign up. You don’t have to remember, you’ll always have a supply, aaaaand it’s usually cheaper than buying it in the store.
Conclusion
If you learned anything from my tale I hope it’s that life is messy. There are lots of twists and turn along this road and even the most prepared can be caught flatfooted. It’s our duty as fathers to try and mitigate these emergencies and have a plan when they do show up. Some things, like poor car design, can’t be avoided, but others can. We keep at least three cans of baby formula on hand at any time now, and you probably should too.
If you liked this story please check out my other posts. If you have a similar story I’d love to hear it in the comments below.
Thanks for reading!
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