Though growing up I have always wanted to be a mom, I have not always had the desire to breastfeed my children.  I was not breastfed.  Neither was my mother.  Neither my sister nor my sister-in-law breastfed my nieces and nephews.  It was not really something that was a big thing in our family.  Though intellectually I realize the ultimate purpose of female breasts, I have always had a sexualized view of them, so the thought of my child sucking on them for food was not appealing to me.

When I became seriously involved with my husband and knew that he was the man with which I would have children, he had a very different viewpoint of nursing.  He was convinced that since he was breastfed combined with the economic and health benefits of nursing, I should breastfeed our child.  What ultimately convinced me to nurse was learning that it would most likely make it easier to lose weight.  Seriously.  That’s why I tried it.  That is really the only reason I tried it.  I know; I’m selfish.

During my pregnancy I convinced myself that breastfeeding would be easy.  My friend Melanie had nursed all three of her boys and seemed to have it down pat.  She was a pro.  She was my inspiration.  When she came to work 12 weeks after having her third, she was almost at pre-baby weight.  Yes, awesome.  I was totally convinced this would be awesome.

Looking back, there are so many “shoulds” that go through my mind regarding my pregnancy and birth experience, but as always hindsight is 20/20, and as my postpartum group leader says, “Stop shoulding on yourself.”  I took a childbirth class but not a breastfeeding class.  I never stopped to prepare for the possibility that nursing wouldn’t work for me.  But that’s the hard part of accepting my ultimate decision.  Nursing DID work.  My daughter had no problem latching.  I had an abundant supply (I think).

The problem was that I never thought that I wouldn’t absolutely love everything about being a mother and nursing my child.  I never expected to hate the first two weeks of her life.  I never expected to feel so numb and detached and awful all the time.  I never expected that I would be so physically anxious worrying about when her next feeding was that I would not be able to sleep ever, at all.  Because what if I fell asleep, and she got hungry and no one could wake me up.  I never expected to feel dirty and smelly all the time.  I hated the smell of breast milk, especially on me, and no amount of showering would get rid of the smell.  While Similac is not a pleasing smell, at least it’s not coming out of me.  Just looking at my pump produced a panic response in me.  I hated pumping.  I was alone in the nursery in a rocking chair for at least 20-30 minutes every time I did it.  I couldn’t distract myself because my hands were occupied, and it hurt because I had set it on a higher setting hoping to get it over with sooner.  I wanted to take my Xanax so I could relax enough to sleep a little, but benzos and breastfeeding do not mix.  I went to a psychiatrist based on the suggestion of my postpartum support group who wrote me a script for Klonopin, but he stated I could only take it if I totally stopped breastfeeding.

On my daughter’s 4th day, I was attempting for what felt like the millionth time to take a nap while my mother watched her.  Per usual, I couldn’t fall asleep, but as I lay there a thought came to me.  I don’t have to do this.  I don’t have to breastfeed her.  And just like that, a huge weight lifted off of me. (Not that it made it any easier for me to sleep that day.  BTW, if one more person told me to sleep when the baby sleeps, I was going to hit someone.)  I went to tell my husband that I had decided to wean my daughter.  My that point and over the next few days I had pumped enough to give her two weeks of breast milk.  My husband’s response: “But you know breast milk is best for her, and formula is expensive.”  In my head I said, “So you breastfeed her,” but of course I didn’t say that out loud.  I honestly don’t remember what I said or what the steps were that transpired after that.  I know that my mom went to get some Similac for Supplementation, and I called my pediatrician to ask what formula they suggest should I totally wean her.  My mom then bought some of that as well.  I started giving her every other feeding as formula.  By doing that, she got breast milk for two weeks and had no problem switching to formula.

I felt guilty.  There was no physical reason I couldn’t breastfeed.  I had selfishly chosen not to.  I wouldn’t lose the baby weight as quickly, and I would spend more money than I had ever intended on feeding her because I was selfish and wanted to sleep.  I saw all the breastfeeding moms with their camaraderie and baby-friendly mission.  Their National Breastfeeding Month.  Their Occupy Breastfeeding pictures.

But I also saw the Fearless Formula Feeder, and the I Support You movement. Their “The best way to feed a baby is to make sure the baby is fed.”

I got sleep.  I knew at almost 12 months old, Melanie’s son was still waking up at least once a night to nurse.  By the time I went back to work when my daughter was 10 weeks old, she was no longer eating overnight.  The only reason she woke up is because her pacifier had fall out of her mouth.  Plug her back in; she goes back to sleep.

I still have my days when I feel like a horrible mother.  I am an intelligent person, and I know that the thinking, “Well I wasn’t breastfed, and I turned out fine,” is kind of specious.  I also know, though, that formula has come a long way in it’s ingredients and how it’s made.  And I know that nursing my daughter was not what was best for me which in turn means it was not what was best for her.  What’s best for her is having a mother that is getting enough rest to be present for her life. for her firsts, for her smiles.  My anxiety would not allow me to enjoy her, and as long as I was nursing, I wouldn’t sleep, and as long as I didn’t sleep, I would be one big ball of anxiety ALL THE TIME.

My daughter is 6 months old now.  She is the happiest, prettiest little girl.  While I still and always will struggle with anxiety and depression, and I know she will be an only child, I love her so so much.  Motherhood is absolutely nothing at all what I anticipated.  Nothing.  But I am adjusting with help and love.  And being able to make my own choice about how to feed my daughter was the best thing I could have done in that moment.