Last night, I nursed my last baby for the very last time. It was a very bittersweet moment. It was also a time for reflection about my experience.
Breastfeeding my boys has been the easiest, hardest thing I’ve ever done.
It was hard because it took so much time and dedication. It was truly putting my baby’s needs ahead of my own. Often, it was putting my second baby’s needs ahead of my first child’s, if only for a few minutes. The mom guilt was real.
It was hard because I didn’t have a choice of help in the middle of the night. My husband couldn’t take a turn while I got a little more sleep. It meant not spending a single night away from my boys in the first year of their lives.
It was hard because I got mastitis multiple times. Feeling like I had the flu, crying as my son nursed because it hurt so bad. My husband had to take off work because it took all of my strength to feed the baby.
It was hard because even when I was away, I still felt tied to my babies. Pumping in closets, conference rooms and even bathrooms. Rushing to eat lunch so I could pump and get back to work.
But despite all of the hard, it was easy.
I decided from the beginning I wanted to breastfeed. Being able to provide their nourishment and so much more: comfort, closeness, safety, love.
I was very lucky to have a good supply. Both boys latched quickly and nursed well. I know how blessed I am. I know some moms try so hard, and it just doesn’t work. I have never taken this for granted.
Even when I was discouraged, their little eyes looking up at me was all I needed to give me strength. While I won’t miss the middle of the night wake-ups and pumping, I will miss the closeness of a little one against my chest.
Please note: this is what worked best for my family. This blog is not meant to be a how-to or a what you should do. Everyone’s family is different, and isn’t that a wonderful thing? I’m just simply sharing my own story.
