I don't think I've had any doubt more overwhelming with either of my children than "am I feeding them right?" Even now with PDG eating full meals and telling me if he's hungry and thirsty, there's so much to doubt. More organics? Juice vs water vs milk. Happy meals? Candy? But none of it tops the doubts of breastfeeding the first year.
Now, I love breastfeeding. I love the bond it creates. I love knowing that my body can nourish another. I love the way my bras fit. I love burning calories. I love not making bottles at 2am. I love feeling like I AM WOMAN. I love how quickly I can resolve tears - any kind of tears. I love how their gulps slow and slow until the latch gives way and the milk coma sets in. It can be wonderful and empowering and comfortable.
But, truth be told, I kinda hated breastfeeding too. I hated how much it hurt those first weeks. I hated feeling like only I could feed the babies, not J-Man - at least, not without planning and pumping. I hated wondering how much he'd eaten and did he need the other side too or would he just throw it up all over me. I hated when I finally realized that he actually wasn't getting enough and instead of feeling awesome started feeling I AM NOT WOMAN ENOUGH.
Ugh.
Why do I do that? Why do so many of us do that? I should be thinking for the last eight months I've nourished and raised this infant into a crawling, laughing, learning machine. He is beautiful and strong and developing just right. Be proud. But, because I love beating myself up, I'm battling the thought I have failed him.
Perhaps what is worse is that, because I didn't have this problem with PDG, it feels like I am particularly neglecting MDG. I keep trying to figure out why my supply didn't keep up. Perhaps because I had to go back to work at 7 weeks because I didn't choose to be a SAHM because it wasn't for me? Is that how I failed him? Or because I'm on birth control this go-around because while I love my two boys I don't want any more. Is that how I failed him? Maybe I didn't drink enough water. Or I didn't remember to take my vitamins some days. Plus I took one night off a week so that I could sleep - obviously selfish.
Probably, though, it's a little bit of all of it. All of it, except of course, the calling it 'failing' part.
Logically, I know I didn't fail. Even now that he's almost exclusively on formula, he's being well fed. He's getting nourishment. I still hold him and love him and feed him.
I wish I had the right words of encouragement for people who ask me about breastfeeding. Has it been a crazy journey that ended up with two healthy boys? - yes. Would I do it again? - yes. Was it easy and pleasant? - sometimes. Was it awful and hard? - sometimes.
But regardless of what I'm doing right or wrong and how much I judge myself, for the first time in three years I'm pretty much back to eating for one again. No pregnancy, and only one nursing session. (Yeah, I didn't give up the 5am feeding. Let's face it, I will always love sleep more than walking to the kitchen to make a bottle. Always.)
I just realized, and decided, that a happy mother matters so much more than the detail of where the milk came from. So for the past ten days I've weaned from five feedings to just one. That one I'll keep for as long as it feels right.
I'm just trying to follow my favorite advice I received: Do what feels right; nothing is a problem until it's a problem, and then you fix it.
Here goes nothing.
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