Spoiler: This gets personal and mentions body parts not normally seen in public. If that idea bothers you, don't read it.
This post really brought me back to when Jared was born, i.e. What I Did On My Summer 'Vacation'[1].
We struggled mightily with breastfeeding. It took about six weeks for it to not be an incredibly painful and stressful event. The first day in the hospital was bearable (exhausting but bearable - he ate every 45 minutes and I wasn't skilled enough to position him so that I could sleep during it), I had enough pillows around me at any given point to make things balance correctly, and there was the comfort of having a lactation consultant a buzzer away 24 hours a day (even if each of the 3 LCs I saw in those 36 hours did give me entirely different and often conflicting advice, it was still nice to know I could reach them).
We left the hospital 12 hours earlier than our insurance said we could, because it was too difficult to rest. I spent that first night trying not to roll on top of Jared, being terrified to move when he finally, finally fell asleep instead of screaming[2] and so I did not sleep much myself, catnapping between his every-45-minute-feedings.
The next 2-3 days were painful but bearable. I managed to find a position for breastfeeding that wasn't too difficult, and it didn't hurt at all like I'd been scared of.
Then came day 4, or rather morning 4. My milk still hadn't come in. His last feeding was around 9pm the previous night. It was 5am and I still couldn't get him to eat. He just wouldn't latch on, he just cried and cried. And so did I. Fortunately it was the day of our post-partum followup, so we took him in to the women's clinic that morning.
I thought I knew a lot about breastfeeding at that point from all the reading I'd done, even downloading videos from babycenter.com of watching other women breastfeeding and observing their technique. But I didn't know enough to connect the dots to see that the reason he couldn't latch on was that my milk HAD come in and I was terribly engorged. And even after they told me that, gave me a nipple shield and sent us home, I was so full of breastfeeding guilt that it didn't occur to me that it was OK to pump to get rid of the engorgement even if I didn't give him the resulting milk in a bottle.
Needless to say, I learned a lot that summer about how breastfeeding really works. But that was after the cracked and bleeding nipples[4], the horrible three weeks of excruciating pain when we had thrush, and the gradual reduction in pain until I could feed my child without even wincing, let alone trying not to cry and curling my toes until they turned white.
My guilt complex kept me breastfeeding through the hardest part until I got to the point where I actually enjoyed it and found it far more convenient than bottle feeding (although I never understood that line in WTEWYE where it talks about how some women get a blissful look on their face when they're breastfeeding, likely due to the release in chemicals that happens during the event. Any blissful look seen on my face during the feeding session was likely due to me being stoned from lack of sleep and thrilled that I could actually sit down for 20 minutes rather than walk him around to keep him from crying.)
I pumped at work until 11 months and weaned my son from the breast by my choice at 13 months. I now consider myself extremely fortunate to have had the experience and I believe my son is healthier as a result. Yet I also remember all too well how little it helped me to hear about how others made it through the hard parts when I was suffering. I am a believer in doing what works for you and ignoring what others think. If you didn't suffer from the same guilt problems as I did with breastfeeding, then go to formula and don't look back, your baby will be just fine (and ignore the crap literature that talks about formula-fed babies having 1 less IQ point on verage than breastfed babies, my husband is the smartest man I've ever known and was entirely formula fed). If you think you might regret stopping, then try hard to find some way to motivate yourself to keep going (and find another breastfeeding mom or former breastfeeding mom to support you and show you techniques in person), but try not to let it get to you if you choose to stop. Your baby will still amaze you regardless of how he was fed.
[1] Many of my male coworkers asked me how I enjoyed "my time off" when I returned to work. If you are reading this and have never had a child of your own, please, I beg you, never ask a woman returning from maternity leave or any new mother if she's enjoying her "time off". Ask her about the baby instead.
[2] He came out screaming and didn't stop for many hours.[3]
[3] Unlike the stories from other moms I've read, not once were we even offered the option of taking Jared to the nursery. He stayed with us in the same room from birth. That first night, I did wish in desperation someone could take him away so I could get even an hour of sleep, but I know that I wouldn't have taken them up on it anyway as the self-guilt had already started by then.
[4] I called the local la leche league leader around day 7 as I was bleeding profusely from the nipples and figured that couldn't be good for my son, not to mention me. She informed me that it wouldn't hurt him in the slightest and that even when I couldn't see any blood, he was probably ingesting some blood and skin through the milk. This, like much of the advice I got from LLL leaders, was logically good to know but not at all emotionally comforting. Being told "Don't worry, you can bleed through this!" didn't exactly inspire me to keep doing the thing which caused the bleeding in the first place.
