Super Mom Closes A Chapter With A Small Defeat And A Big Win
I love that I don't have to worry about packing bottles when I go out, or making one in the middle of the night.
I hate wondering if I'm eating enough, drinking enough, consuming too much caffeine, causing her gas, if she's getting enough nutrients, or if she would just freaking cry less if she were drinking formula.
I love that I stuck through the rough first 6 weeks and can be proud of myself for that feat.
I hate that my days are a jumbled mess thanks to her nursing every 1 1/2-2 hours and trying to find time to pump in between that for oh I don't know, AN OUNCE. A few pumping sessions later I have a bottle...SCORE!
I love the closeness, the feeling of knowing how much she loves and is comforted by nursing.
I hate that it seems the only way she wants to be comforted by me is by nursing.
I love that it's free.
I hate that I'm sacrificing time and energy that could be given to my 3 year old on simply feeding LO.
So tired of obsessing over breastfeeding. Back and forth, back and forth, love it, hate it, want to go for a year, want to go buy a bottle of formula right now.
I actually wrote this a few weeks ago. Here's my problem, I want to be super mom. I strive to be super mom. I want to do it all. Cook healthy, cheap meals from scratch, bake nutritious and delicious vegan treats, begin my trek into homeschooling by doing creative preschool type activities with my 3 year old, attempt at least one craft a week that Pinterest moms everywhere would not shame me for, clean to my OCD standards, bathe my children daily (that's a lie, every other day...3 times a week minimum!), read and play with my children frequently, do the laundry, FOLD the laundry, pay the bills, manage the money, go to work 3 nights a week, stay in contact with friends and family, and still have the energy to keep up with my own personal hygiene. Not to mention slap on some lacy undies (paired with a nursing bra, HOT) and attempt to regain the almost forgotten feeling of sexiness after cleaning off the puke, poop, variety of food, and 9,723 hairs I've lost in that day.
Most of the time I only "admit defeat", or rather cut myself some slack and take a step back, once I crash and burn in an epic display of neurosis and exhaustion.
But this time I decided to take a different approach. While I love a good meltdown as much as the next gal (seeing as how the recovery usually involves a good $12 bottle of wine, score!), I recognized that I was pushing myself beyond my limits.
I find it hard to understand how some women can "do it all" and some days I struggle to just get dinner cooked. But it is something I'm learning to accept. I'm a damn good mom and some days I earn the title super mom. But not every day. So when I realized that pumping enough milk for the 3 nights a week I work on top of nursing Riley around the clock was becoming the bane of my existence, I decided to take action. I kicked my ego to the curb, hit up the local Target, and bought my baby a can of *COVER YOUR EARS* formula. Quit pumping cold turkey. Riley now gets as many as 7 bottles of formula a week, and the world just keeps on turning.
AND I suddenly find myself with enough time to play with my 3 year old, cook, clean, and basically live my life between nursing my 4 month old. Big, huge, satisfying sigh of relief.
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