Breast Milk is Good, but FED is Best
I read two books, countless articles on Pinterest, had a lactation consultant on standby for the moment I would need her, and bought two hundred dollars worth of breast pump accessories so I could have a supply once the school year started and I had to go back to work.
I made it three weeks…
My son would nurse twenty times a day. He spit up large amounts of milk. He cried for what seemed like an eternity. All day. Every day. Each night he’d wake up, eat, be changed and put back to bed. Each time took an hour. Then, he was up in another hour. I did this for three weeks. Since my husband’s nipples are useless, I had the joy of losing my sanity piece by piece with each restless hour.
Looking to survive providing my son with “liquid gold” like the number one social media moms, I started to pump. Maybe this way I can sleep for a little longer and my husband can feed him once a day.
I felt like a cow hooking myself up to that machine, but I had to try. I remember the sound of that damn machine as I watched my nipples get so big I thought they were going to explode and ruin that oh so precious breast milk. Never mind the slowest drip, drip, drip into each container or my child who’s still crying next me because his belly still hurts.
I pumped three times…
Dear post partum depression – Fuck you! I’m trying to do the best for my baby and here you are turning me into the worst mom on the planet! I wished everyday that my son could have a better mom. Every time he cried, so did I. Every time I had to redo a swaddle, I was failing my son. Every time his belly hurt and he cried it was because I couldn’t provide what my baby needed. On… and on… and on.
One morning full of a few hours of my son and I crying, I frantically looked up what the best formula was for a baby. God I felt so selfish and guilty. As I came out of the grocery store I ran into my best friend. I held up the shopping bag and began to cry again. She assured me it was okay and I was doing my best. I just wanted my son to have a happy mom.
My son adjusted well and after a few nights of sleeping for more than one consecutive hour at a time I began to see a bit more clearly and started to enjoy my beautiful son. I was also able to see that I was dealing with postpartum depression and got the help I needed.
To those moms out there that survive that first month of breastfeeding, you are rock stars! But you know what? So am I. I have a happy, healthy son and he has a happy, healthy mom. Breast milk is good, but fed is best.