My Breastfeeding Journey

This is my breastfeeding journey:    

June was my first baby to nurse. When she was born, we danced the breastfeeding dance so gracefully. Everything was lovely. Breastfeeding, to me, was motherhood—and motherhood was breastfeeding.

As my exhaustion caught up with me around June’s eighth week, though, my postpartum depression and anxiety began rearing its ugly head, and breastfeeding was no longer graceful, no longer lovely. I stressed about every little piece of nursing. I worried about how I would find time to pump between patients. My supply had been strong, yet I now worried about how and where I would store my frozen milk. I researched every little detail to any unhealthy degree and set standards far too high. I found—and created—any reason to worry.

When a lovely friend, colleague, and fellow mama reminded me that giving formula was a perfectly viable option, I cried my eyes out. It was true. With much deliberation and support from my husband and family, I opted to allow my supply to dry up while we transitioned to giving bottles. It was a horribly scary time. I was angry, and I was so sad. While I knew something had to give to help me become whole again after the crippling weeks of anxiety, I still felt so defeated. I feared I was no longer the mother I dreamt I would be.

And then I gave the bottles.

And my beautiful daughter ate.

And she grew.

And she was happy.

And I grew.

And I was happy.

And I could relax.

And now Baby June is three. And she’s a big sister twice-over. And I have nursed two more babies. And I have fed bottles to these babies. And we are happy. And we have learned to be flexible. And we have learned to dance our own dance.

Mama & big girl, June

Nursing June in the hospital!

Nursing-- & hiking!-- Rose

Post-nurse Naomi

And we are so, so proud of who we are, where we’ve been, and where we’re going.

Own your story, give yourself (a whole HEAP of!) grace, and know that what is right for you is right for your child.

Also, June told me last night that I make her heart happy. If 8-week-old June could’ve spoken, I know she would have expressed similar sentiments. Her mama was working so hard and truly doing her best. Aren’t we all? ☺️ Keep on keepin’ on, friend. You make our hearts happy!