Breastfeeding was not something that I gave much thought to while I was pregnant. I had read enough horror stories to know that some people found it unbearably painful (I’m sorry but blood and nipple should never ever be used in the same sentence) and some people just couldn’t make enough milk to keep up with voracious baby appetites (3 ounces doesn’t sound like a lot until you’re sitting with a breast pump for half an hour). I figured that it was what it was and if I could I would.
Well, it was and I did. Breastfeeding turned out to be easy for me. Nothing was painful and the only “discomfort” I had was when my boob would leak. There are some involuntary actions that I am very thankful for: heart beats, breathing, my knee moving when it’s tapped in the right spot. A leaky boob is not on that list. However, since that was my biggest breastfeeding gripe I consider myself blessed.
For the first 2 months of Otis’ life he was exclusively breastfed. He was happy and I was happy. I don’t think I lost weight faster or that we were more bonded because of it (but I don’t think being the sole provider of milky goodness hurt us in that department), but I will say that I am super thankful that it worked out for me the way that it did.
When I went back to work boob pumping was the plan. I didn’t have much of an issue producing, but I don’t know if you’ve seen our little man. He likes food. So formula supplement was definitely part of his diet, and every night we nursed in the bed until we fell asleep.
Then he turned 5 months old. And he didn’t want The Boob anymore. Like, at all. He would turn away and cry and was only satisfied by The Bottle. Any self-esteem issues I had came alive.
“He doesn’t love me, want me or need me! Wah!”
I was so sad that our special relationship was about to end. At first I thought that he was weaning himself off of The Boob. Then I found out it wasn’t weaning. It was a nursing strike which is where a baby refuses to eat and this usually happens when they’re teething. And wouldn’t you know it, Otis’ first tooth started to poke its way through this weekend.
Either way, I had already dried up because I went ahead and quit pumping. Let me tell you, the awkwardness of two boobs of different sizes is, well, funny. Anyways, little man is now a formula baby (until he gets introduced to real food in October), and I’m ok with that.
Or at least I think I’m ok with that.
How was nursing for you guys? How did you decide to quit? Is it just me or is there severe mommy guilt over any and all decisions made with the first baby?
Also, a funny note. When I told my mom that I had finished nursing she looked horrified. Her grandbaby was no longer getting the wonderful nectar of motherly love?!? She was outraged*. And then I reminded her that she didn’t breastfeed any of us. A Lola’s love is strong…
*I say outraged, but she wasn’t outraged. Maybe just a tad miffed. I’m a blogger. I exaggerate. So sue me.