A Ramble about Breastfeeding...

I think I've mentioned before that when I was pregnant, I was excited to breastfeed. I had researched it. I was so excited that this was something that I could do for Lizzy to help prevent allergies and asthma down the road {although, I was breastfed and have the worst allergies of anyone I know!}. I felt confident. After our birthing class, Justin was excited about me breastfeeding. He kept talking about all the benefits of breastfeeding and how he was so happy that I was going to do it. I knew of a doula that did breastfeeding support if needed. Don't get me wrong...I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I felt like I could do it.I felt like it was what God had made my body to do, and that it was a beautiful thing.

And then Lizzy arrived. I had a terrible experience with a lactation consultant at the hospital. She would grab Lizzy, and shove her on my boob while saying, "Don't touch her!" Then, after having Lizzy "nurse" for six hours straight in the middle of the night, it became apparent to me that Lizzy just wanted to suck for comfort. I asked the nurse for a pacifier, and she brought me one. Later, the same lactation consultant came in the room, and yelled at me that Lizzy was a bad nurser (she used to press her tongue up to the roof of her mouth when she was trying to latch on), and that if I was going to give her a pacifier, I might as well give up breastfeeding right then and there. I ignored her, and Lizzy and I both slept. The next morning, I had a new lactation consultant who was more helpful, and had me participate in the process more, but was also very condescending.

A few weeks later, we had the nursing down a bit better. But, Lizzy was extremely active from the start, and would often pull off to look around the room, even if I was nursing her in a dark and silent room. Breastfeeding was not enjoyable for me, at all. Lizzy didn't lay there and look up at me lovingly...she'd pinch, and kick, and keep trying to turn her head to look around the rest of the room. I asked my mom, "Is this normal?" and she said that none of her kids had been nearly that busy and active while nursing.

We talked to the doctor about it, who did weight checks before and after nursing, and concluded that she WAS getting enough each feeding (i.e. no apparent supply issues), she was just apparently very active. They suggested swaddling her to nurse. That didn't help much.

And then, after working out and working out, but not losing any weight, I started having a number of conversations with friends who said that they weren't able to lose any weight until they stopped breastfeeding. And that became ANOTHER reason, albeit a selfish one, that breastfeeding wasn't enjoyable. In some part of my brain, I saw breastfeeding as the roadblock to becoming "me" again after having Lizzy. But I banished that thought from my brain, and promised myself that I would NOT stop just because I wanted to lose weight. I would not stop until Lizzy was showing signs that she was ready to stop. 

Breastfeeding became something that I did, because I had the supply and the ability. I believe in the benefits of breastfeeding. I felt that it was important, but I didn't enjoy it. I haven't ever enjoyed it. So why not switch to formula?

For one, because money is tight. Don't get me wrong, we could afford formula. But in my eyes, there was no reason for me to justify not breastfeeding--I had the supply, Lizzy wasn't having stomach issues or latch issues, etc. So for me, switching to formula would have been an unnecessary expense. Let me be clear--I'm not saying that everyone who chooses to give a baby formula when they are capable of breastfeeding is spending unnecessarily. Just that for me personally, I couldn't justify switching in my mind--I felt like I needed to do what was best for Lizzy, even if that wasn't necessarily what was best for me. And I wanted to be absolutely sure that I wasn't stopping just because I wanted to lose weight.  Plus, I had set the goal of breastfeeding until Lizzy was at least six months old, and dammit, I was going to meet that goal.

Now, Lizzy is seven months old. And I'm still mostly breastfeeding, with the exception of a formula bottle for the last feeding each day, which came about for a variety of different reasons. It is the one feeding each day that I enjoy. The rest have become extremely difficult--every feeding, she'll latch on for five or ten seconds, then arch her back and scream. Then she'll latch on for five or ten seconds, then kick and hit me repeatedly. Then she'll latch on for five or ten seconds, arch her back and try to throw herself out of my arms.

When I do pump, I've been pumping the same amount. It doesn't appear to be a decrease in my supply. I am 100% convinced that she would simply rather take a bottle, because she can hold it herself and look around the room while she is eating. This has been going on for nearly a month, and I am really beginning to think that Lizzy is trying to wean.

But for some reason, I am still trying to nurse her. I don't enjoy it. I dread it, but I am still trying to do it. I feel so guilty about even considering stopping, and I'm not sure why...I have nothing against formula. I hit my goal of breastfeeding for six months (and then some). It clearly isn't a good experience for either one of us, and it isn't just about me wanting to lose weight...she clearly doesn't like nursing any more than I do. The important thing is that she's eating, not whether it's breastmilk or formula, right?! So why do I still feel so guilty about the idea of stopping?

I'm not sure where I'm going with this...I just kind of had to get it out there.