The day of Layla's birth, I still had not decided if I was going to breast or bottle feed. It was a decision that I had been mentally rehashing for about eight months. In the end, the decision was simple. My baby was hungry, and so I fed her.
It really was a perfect fit. She latched well. She ate well. I loved the bonding and the time to devote to only her.
A few weeks in, I realized that sometimes it was impossible to feed her when she wanted to eat. With three kids still home on summer break, their needs had to be met, too.
Fortunately, I borrowed a hospital grade dual pump. It was fabulous. It took about half the time to pump as it did for her to nurse. Although, I wasn't ready to give up the nursing completely. We still found our time for each other in the evening, overnight and early mornings. We had a modern success story.
A few weeks ago, it became clear that my supply was not meeting her demand. At least not with our current pumping/nursing schedule.
So I chose motherhood over martyrdom.
I couldn't talk about it for awhile. The whole process of giving up something that I loved so much was too much to put in words.
Even muttering, "I'm weaning," made me cry.
I knew it was for the best, and eventually all of these emotions would subside.
I just couldn't talk about it.
Layla is now a formula fed baby.
In the time it has taken for me to fully accept this, I've also become proud of choices. We still have our own alone time. Although it is different, it is still right.
It took me awhile to appreciate the success we did have. At almost 10 weeks of breastfeeding, this experience lasted longer than ever before.
Sometimes I still miss the nursing sensation. I miss that special mother/baby connection.
But, I'm learning to appreciate every moment for what it is. To cherish what I have. Because these babies grow up....too fast.