One Year

I didn't imagine what it would be like having kids. Sure, I always assumed that I would, but I never envisioned myself as a mom. Only when my husband and I were dating did I start thinking about what family life might look like. Once we started having those conversations, I'm pretty sure I hopped onto whatever popular opinion was most prominent at the time: 

I'd have a natural, unmedicated birth, 

I'd breastfeed for a year or so, 

We'd use cloth diapers,... all that jazz.

Then I had my firstborn - after saying yes to assisted labor after 50 hours - and soon learned that breastfeeding was hard for me. Every. Part. Of. It. The latching, positioning, milk producing, the supplementing, the crying (from hungry baby & frustrated mama), the guilt and anger and feelings of inadequacy. All hard. By the time my son was 3 months old I was a wreck - and likely experiencing postpartum depression. I pumped after each nursing session in an effort to trick my body into producing more milk. I drank fenugreek shots until my sweat smelled like maple syrup (because that's when you know there's enough in your system). I ate the oats, drank the lactation teas, did all the things I thought would increase my supply. That is until my pre-mama self raged for some kind of normalcy, sanity and a sense of self. I oscillated between anger, fatigue and frustration at having to do these things that brought me stress and anxiety, and back to the guilt and subsequent anger at myself for not doing everything in my power to give my baby what he needed - to say nothing of my harsh interpretations of the well-intentioned advice from everyone around me. Did I mention I was a wreck?

Around 5 months, we learned that baby couldn't fully digest cow's milk (the traces in my breastmilk that were a result of my diet), so I stopped eating anything with dairy. When that didn't fix the issue, I cut out anything made with butter. In the midst of this, I was preparing to be out of town for four days. I stressed for weeks to pump enough milk for him to drink during the day, while also trying to build up a freezer supply for the 96 hours of my absence.

It was after that that my husband sat me down and gave me permission to do whatever necessary to make me happy. He reminded me that formula wasn't evil, and that any amount of breastmilk I could provide was beneficial to our child. *Here's to supportive partners!* Over the next few months I nursed as I could, offered healthy solid food options, and supplemented with formula as needed - mostly guilt-free. Then, after 9 months of nursing, my body decided it was done supplying breastmilk. 

With our second child, I tried to approach nursing with a little more patience and grace towards myself. It was still hard. There was just as much of supplementing with formula, some optimistic fenugreek and oat consumption, and I still despised pumping. But there was just a bit less guilt and bending over backwards during the process. This time around, baby girl let me go after just 6 months of nursing. Oof.

The case with baby #3, our final baby, was different. I hoped it would be different - felt that it was from the first times we latched. My husband even commented that things seemed to be going more smoothly this time around. So, at the first check-up, when the pediatrician suggested we start supplementing, I was crushed. The full range of emotions came flooding back and it was all I could do to hold back my tears there in that little exam room. But a few days later my milk came in, and it seemed to just flow. For the first time I saw one of my babies full to the point of being milk drunk. I experienced what breastfeeding - and even pumping - was like without dread. I finally understood how good it was meant to be; I actually felt the joy of nursing that I'd so often heard about.

So, to be nursing my last baby on her birthday - one FULL year of breastfeeding - feels simultaneously unimaginable and also like the fulfilment of a promise I'd made to myself years ago.

They say "third time's the charm." Well, I say all of mine were charms. This one is simply my happy ending.