233 Days

That's how long we've gone without a drop of formula.

7 months, 10 days. 117 days of pumping 3x per day (while working full time), another 56 days pumping 2x per day (while breastfeeding on maternity leave) and 46 days pumping 1x per (while breastfeeding on weekends). I have pumped 509 times so far and breastfed on average 1,165 times since my son was born. That doesn’t include the power-pumping sessions to try to increase my supply or the many, many nights of cluster feedings during growth spurts.

And yet today I sit here feeling defeated. I feel like I’ve failed. Today was the first day my son had formula. To say it was hard to prepare his bottles this morning would be a lie … it was excruciating. I decided to send one bottle with solely breast-milk and two more split 50/50 with formula. But as I put them in his bag I stopped, I thought “I can squeeze in 20 minutes of pumping, I don’t need to send this” … but by then we were already late and I knew that wasn’t a viable option. So I zippered his bag closed with tears in my eyes and off we went.

I know there are those of you out there looking at your computer screen saying “you made it 7 months, you should be proud!” but I also know there are some that are probably thinking “you didn’t try hard enough” …and that’s how I’m feeling right now. Maybe I should have taken more time to pump when I was on maternity leave, maybe I should have introduced power-pumping earlier, maybe I should have done middle-of-the-night pumping sessions, maybe, maybe, maybe… but guess what? I didn’t. I didn’t want to sacrifice the little time I had on maternity leave pumping – those 20 minutes I couldn’t be holding my son, playing with him, looking in his eyes – I’d chose those moments over pumping any day. It doesn’t help that my initial pumping experience was awful (see post) and that I almost wanted to give up then. It doesn’t help that every time AF rears her ugly head my supply dwindles to practically nothing. And it certainly doesn’t help that when I’ve been sick and unable to eat or drink anything my supply takes another hit, which when you have a child in daycare happens more frequently than I’d like.

Slowly but surely over these past few weeks, I’ve watched as my already incredibly small freezer stash has dwindled away to nothing. And with each defrosted bag, my dreams and hopes of making it 12 months on breast-milk alone were shattered just a little more. I have two bags left in the freezer – 11oz – that’s it. 509 sessions and that’s all I have to show for it. I could have pulled those out this morning and sent them to daycare to get one more day of 100% breast-milk into my son, but logic said not too. Logic said, use today (and possibly the rest of the week) to send 50/50 bottles. Pump as much as you can at work, power-pump once at night and hopefully maybe by the Grace of God, next week I’ll have enough stored again to send only breast-milk to daycare. But if not, I have to be okay with knowing I’m still sending some breast-milk.

At this point I don’t care if I have a “stash” in fact I don’t want one…what I would like though would be to make enough to send to school every day … that’s a measly 15oz… why is that so hard?

And why am I being so hard on myself for having to send formula? I personally know SO many women that have raised their children on formula only, or had to switch because they were unable to pump at work, or like me watched in horror as their supply just decreased on its own.

I was talking to a someone about my “situation” this past weekend because I knew then that I was going to have to start supplementing and wanted input and her response was “Oh, that’s really too bad. You’ve made it this far it would be such a shame to not make it all the way”… I don’t think she realized the impact of what she said. I know she wasn’t trying to be hurtful or judgmental but hearing that only made me feel worse about what I was going to have to do. Truth is, I didn’t tell her I was sending formula today because I wasn’t sure what her reaction was going to be. I don’t think she knows how difficult it was/is for me or how emotional of a decision it actually was. I don’t think she knows that I feel like I’ve failed or that I feel like in some way it makes me a bad mother.

And maybe that’s the bigger issue. Before Lucas was born, I’d find myself sometimes silently questioning the actions of other mothers, as if I knew better (that’s funny right?). But once I became a mother I realized that every family is different and every child is different. What works for one doesn’t always work for all. You have to do what’s best for you and your family. And yet, I constantly feel judged. I feel like people are questioning my mothering abilities. I watch as other mothers make their own baby food while I pack jarred Earth’s Best, or mothers that are still breastfeeding at 12 months while I am introducing formula at 7 months, or mothers that stay home with their babies while I work full time. I need to take a step back and applaud myself for everything I have done and continue to do for my son. He has a family that loves him to the moon and back, a roof over his head, food in his belly, clothes on his back, books to read, toys to play with, a dog to snuggle and an entire world to discover. I need to learn to stop judging myself. To trust that I’m making the best decisions for us, to know that I am a good mother.

While all of this was going through my head this morning I came across my friend (and photographer) Melanie’s blog on Facebook. Her words “It’s Motherhood, Not Martyr-hood” couldn’t be truer and were exactly what I needed to read today.  So I send a million thanks her way, for reminding me that while my choices may not live up to the pressures of our generation, they are mine and I should hold my head high.

So that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to look myself in the mirror and tell myself I’m an AWESOME mom, that I’m doing the very best I possibly can and that NO ONE can take that away from me.

And to every mother I ever judged, silently or otherwise, please accept my sincerest of apologies. I never realized how hard this job really is!